Condemned

by Cari Silverwood

  He was hers too, it was unavoidable, but his will would rule over her as it did his mauleon soldiers. Then he kissed her while he held her jaw and the chain.

  He could release her. He could but he would not. Not. Quite. Yet.

  “The priest are doing their fuck-dance ceremony up above, using another female. We have a side exit to use, but I’m not taking you out through it, yet. Not until I’ve made you clearly understand the rules of being mine.”

  Her eyebrows did a dance and she frowned. “They might change their minds.”

  “They won’t. Don’t be afraid of them. Fear me.”

  A nice sort of fear, he hoped. With the hand at her throat, he pushed her backward, making her bend uncomfortably due to her kneeling. She gasped and planted her palm on the floor but otherwise she let him, only squeaking when he rolled the chain to the side of her pussy and shoved two fingers into her. His fingers were thick, but she took them easily. No wonder, considering how big mauleon cock was.

  The clamp and release of her pussy muscles as he slowly fucked her, her weak attempts to wriggle free, and her squeaks and moans soon had him wavering in his decision to take this at a measured pace.

  He fucked her with three fingers, then pulled them out and squeezed in four. They made a cone of fingers so wide that even she was wincing before she again tried humping his hand.

  “Oh, girl, you are hard done by. Most of my hand is in you and I can see you want more. Am I right?” He stuck them in with a jolt that made her tits wobble.

  Silence for a cum-worthy second, her with her mouth wide open, silently begging, her thighs worming about on his hand.

  “Oh. Gods.” She choked on the words, whispering, “Oh, fuck. Oh, my fucking...”

  Again he jolted her with a hard thrust. “What-do-you-want? Say cock and I’ll be kind.”

  Her eyes fluttered open. She stared at him, and him with his arm between her legs almost in her cunt. Her bent over like a bar melted and hammered on by a blacksmith. Thighs straining. Cunt straining.

  He grinned mercilessly.

  The high priest had literally begged him to take her back. The money they’d paid had been paltry to appease his brother priests.

  Mouse-bot and that other bot-that-fucked had been allowed to exit already. It was puzzling.

  “Say it.” He shook her throat.

  Something weird was forcing the temple into this. He’d figure it out later. Once he scratched this itch the way he wanted to. By fucking her in these chains.

  “I... I want Zo.” Her eyes widened and a firm stare hit him. “He’s bigger than you.”

  At her annoyingly bratty challenge, he laughed, low and somewhat evilly. He hoped.

  They both knew it was a game. A sexy thrilling game that would likely get her used so badly she might have trouble walking afterward.

  He considered her, roving his gaze over her quietly. Not a word from him unless it fucked with her head. “I really need to buy some of these chains for the farm. My barn has nice high beams. I can tie you to those so we can use you in between herding, plowing, sowing seed, branding. Branding makes some critters scream. Especially ones with delicate girly skin.”

  “Oh.” She hit her upper teeth with her tongue tip, let it hover there a second. “Takk...”

  “Yes? Maybe you should think about your answers better next time.”

  Her mouth formed an O.

  He chuckled. Her eyes narrowed and he was sure she was wondering if she dared annoy him again.

  “Think before you curse.” He nudged a claw into her chin.

  His hard-on grew harder, threatening to poke a hole in his pants. Takk ripped open the fastenings there, let it out, grabbed his cock and stroked it before he leaned over her.

  Eyes fixed on hers, he entered her. First time in her pussy and his throat tried to stop him breathing. In... deep, deeper, and her panting then seizing up, and him thinking fuck, this is good. Never had a female been so in tune with him, so aroused, so wet that her pussy made noises with every move he made inside her.

  He fucked her into the stone, his hand pinning her throat. “Lucky you’re flexible.”

  Avalon voiced no complaints this time and he bit her neck, her tits, the underside of them, and right over both of her nipple rings. Made her make this sweet mewing noise, like he’d stunned her, sent her into the heavens. He jammed himself deeper, balls squishing, and she arched. Nailed by his cock, pussy juices slicking onto his dick and balls, she pushed herself up.

  Against his bulk, she went precisely nowhere.

  He outweighed her, had her at throat and cunt, and he worked his cock, rotating himself a bit to the left, a bit to the right, as if he were screwing himself into place, permanently.

  When she was crying out desperately, he thrust at her, smacking in, jangling the chains.

  One second, she was squirming and whining, and the next second, ready to come on his cock—judging by how she’d gone rigid and rocked deep and stuck herself there.

  Knowing it’d interrupt her on the verge of an orgasm, he pulled out of the stricken girl.

  He unsheathed his claws and sank them into her neck, pricking her.

  She panted and panted then glared.

  “As if I’d let you come when you want to.”

  After unraveling the chain, he made her sprawl on the floor and blanket, spread-eagled, pussy open to his view, and smacked her thigh when she tried to close her legs.

  “Mine. Remember? Answer.”

  Eyes shut then opened. Pretty blue eyes that blinked. “Yes, sir.”

  Oh, a sir? “I like that sir.”

  “Figured it’d be so.” She smirked, fleetingly, then tried to look innocent.

  He let that one slide, hooked his arms under her thighs and hauled her to him, bent his head over her pussy, and licked one long lick from slit to clit that had her falling apart already.

  “Beg.”

  Avalon whimpered, craned up her head. “More? Please, please, sir?”

  “Yes, more. If you come though, I will shove that chain in your cunt and do you that way. Remember that. No coming.”

  Mouth pinched shut, she nodded.

  “I aim to make you scream.”

  “Oh, fuck yes, please, sir.”

  They couldn’t be here forever though. She was right in that.

  “Arms above your head. Move them and I stop.” Then he waited for her to obey before he lowered his mouth to her.

  He brought her to the brink, three times, bucking and writhing and panting; made her wet the floor with her juices; let her grind herself into his face until he stopped her with a palm on her belly. Then and only then, when she was ready to pledge her soul to get an orgasm, did he stick his four fingers in her again and suck and lick like a machine that’s had its power control turned to high.

  No stopping this time. “You can come.”

  Chapter Thirty

  You can come. Words she was frantic to hear.

  Avalon let out a strangled cry as she stiffened, her muscles locking. For an eternity nothing registered except his tongue and lips pulling at her clit, his fingers in her, and how thoroughly he owned her. Pleasure destroyed her. She would swear she almost died, her heart threatened to give out, and breathing, breathing was optional.

  Before she’d quite decided she was alive, he had entered her in one, long, glorious thrust that rattled her teeth and the chains. Arms still above her head, she kept her eyes shut to savor this.

  She wanted to feel it all, every parting of her flesh, every sizzling awakening each new time he speared in, as if they were new and she was made a virgin.

  Nice idea. It just felt so fucking good.

  When she ended up clawing at his back with bared claws, he only laughed in her face and nuzzled her neck, fastened his own claws in her there, and rammed in that final time as she felt the swell of his cock carrying the load of hot cum, and it filled her gloriously.

  When he finally pulled her over onto him, rolling on the bla
nket, cuddling her chains and all despite all the mess they’d made, she found herself matching his rattling rumble with her own contented purrs.

  “That was...” she sighed, unwilling to wrap up what had just happened with words that could never describe her and his complicated power-play, emotions, and sensations, with any real justice. “Not bad,” she finally settled for, nudging at his chin with the top of her head.

  “You know, girl, you just earned a birching and a fucking at our next stop.”

  She giggled. “Sorry, but only a tiny bit.” She squirmed on his chest, his warmly comforting and rather massive chest, and stuck her nose to him, inhaling. “I think I will like your birching.”

  “Huh. We will get creative then. I have ways and imagination.”

  “Oh.” That whole chain inserted in her notion had been scary, but she wasn’t reminding him.

  Though it felt as if she’d shut her eyes for only a few minutes, he rocked her shoulder, nipped her ear.

  “Let’s go. We should leave.”

  She sighed and crawled to her feet, held up her cuffed hands to him.

  The key to the cell turned out to also work on the lock on her cuffs. Freed, she rubbed her wrists. Still naked. Takk fetched clothes for her—leggings, underwear, shirt, boots, and coat, from a bag he’d left outside the cell. Everything was black. Had he raided some spy’s wardrobe?

  “Thank you.” She smiled at him, and he patted her head, caressed her there even, and shame of shames, she loved it.

  She was in awe at how he’d established this new dynamic between them. Flip-flopping from admiration but annoyance at his ways, to respecting him far more and wanting to, well, kneel at his feet and be patted?

  From the same bag that had held the clothes, Takk pulled the scent bottle. He sprayed her, getting her to turn. “That should be enough to get us through town. We’re going to ride out straight away and head home. Let’s go.”

  Her skepticism returned as she followed Takk from the cell.

  If he reverted to being an asshole, she’d be sad, angry, and probably slap him. That might be dangerous. Still, she would do it. The potential for the future made her heart wring itself out over and over, and whimper like a puppy that’s finally found a home.

  Ahead was a partly ajar door, rimmed with a rectangle of brightness. She slowed. “Takk.”

  “Yes? We’re almost out. That’s the exit.”

  Tentatively she went to him, feeling odd and half-expecting rejection.

  “I want to thank you, for finding me again, and getting me out of here.” Her frown came and went, and she found herself clasping her hands together nervously.

  His stern expression didn’t help until he opened his arms. “Come here. I’m sorry. The sex overwhelmed me. Your fault.” He smiled.

  She walked into his embrace, sighing and wrapping her arms around him as far as they could reach—which wasn’t far.

  “No thanking me. I know we rescued you from execution all those days ago, but I’m the one who set this up, then maybe you rescued me from my own stupidity upstairs. It gets too complicated to figure who should thank who.” He squeezed her then, after a pause, she felt him kiss the top of her head. “Thank you, Avalon.”

  “Mmmm.” That had made up for his previous assholery by a lot.

  She almost tripped at the door leading into the street daylight. A thought had confused her as much as the blinding light.

  Four. She had four mates, and this last one was possibly the one who would make her want him the most. Takk kind of owned her now. From fucking her once, and talking to her once, and that hug.

  She wasn’t sure how precisely he’d managed that when he hadn’t even birched her ass yet.

  * * *

  The high priest leaned away from the screen. Beads of sweat showed on the side of his face.

  The Spy Room rang with heated, suffocating silence. You could almost hear it panting.

  “Well. I think it best we preserve that video file for the education of future generations. Don’t you? The captain, ummm, moves so well.”

  “Uhh.” Lesser Priest Han nodded vigorously, adjusting his robe into a new, less stimulating place on his body. “Yes, High Priest. We can refer to it whenever we practice the Dance of Love? Yes?”

  “An excellent idea!”

  They agreed with each other, and that the recording of the captain doing things to the huleon female should therefore be filed at the very back of a cabinet under X, where it was likely only a few priests would ever rummage.

  “I have also, after much study of the inscription, deciphered the writing on the chest of our love machine. It is not simply ARBO. The ancient inscription reads WARBOT.”

  “Ohhhh.” Lesser Priest Han blinked. “That fits with the prophecy!” His opinion of the high priest rose.

  “Yes! Yes, it does. It and its small rider have departed the town. Everything is falling into place.” He smiled. “Everything.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  J’kai knew when the ideal place and moment for an ambush arrived. This was it.

  She’d watched and followed the troop from Omage, taken swift and arduous shortcuts to get ahead.

  This day was going to take her target score to over one hundred.

  She’d not seen a huleon female evoke such devotion from one lover before, let alone four of them. So many huleons were condemned to a lonely life with only curses to keep them company.

  A pity to kill these.

  Emboldened by the love story unfurling before her cynical and shadowed eyes, she’d dared to talk to a mauleon at a tavern. It had yielded interesting results: her first kiss in the arms of a handsome ex-lawman called Raiden. Kissing had its attraction.

  Her six assistants were male human warriors trained in the art of subterfuge, concealment, and silent death. They’d bowed to her and vowed that their hearts were pure as fresh white snow and their arms the righteous arms of the kingdom that would strike unerringly. They could do no wrong. It’d been a pretty speech.

  They were poised in position to either side of the path used by the mauleon troop and the female.

  She rechecked her sword, her knives, her throwing darts, and picked up the blow tube, careful to make no sound, or press on twig or grass.

  The darts containing the numbing poison were in one hand, tube in the other, as she sighted through the gap in the undergrowth and the bank of dirt. Her position was above the cutting that held the road. The six warriors were also ready to attack from above. They’d agreed to use the blade rather than ranged weapons. If used accurately and ruthlessly a blade thrust could kill silently. Not long before this, a party of mauleon traders had passed by.

  She’d told the warriors it was best not to arouse suspicion.

  Each warrior had been assigned a victim. Two were assigned to the captain. A volley of her darts could be sent on their way within seconds, instantly semi-paralyzing the muscle each dart penetrated.

  As time wheezed past, each victim would find themselves more and more paralyzed. However, long before the poison stopped their heart from pumping, the warriors had pledged to put a blade strike through both heart and throat.

  She could hit the neck of the four mauleons and the girl, even if they spurred their mounts, guaranteed. It was why she was the primary assassin and not the six warriors.

  Such a pity to do this. Her small claws slid out and she pressed them to the blow tube.

  She never took lives without thought, without referring to her unique code. Payment before death, that was her moral code. The girl thief’s uncle had paid her well.

  She inhaled, exhaled, nodded, made her decision.

  “Time to die.” She lifted the tube and aimed. The darts flew, spat out rapidly as she fed them into the mouth end of the tube, and they sank into their targets.

  Falling through the air, the righteous warriors had their sword arms raised to deliver their blows.

  Warned by the rustle of grass as the warriors jumped, the mauleon s
oldiers below were unsheathing pistol, rifle, and sword.

  Too late.

  Except that each and every human warrior failed to strike correctly. They fumbled and fell into their targets, dropped to the ground with holes in them, wounds created by soldiers trained by war to react fast and with deadly force.

  The girl had been knocked partway from the saddle but even she was hauled back into position as the troop galloped through the ambush setting and away. They weren’t staying to see if more enemies might appear and attack.

  Those were well-led soldiers.

  J’kai listened to the hoof beats diminish, and to the choking noises of the warriors as their hearts failed from either poison or blood loss.

  She smiled.

  Her darts had struck well and paralyzed their sword arms.

  Silently, she wriggled backward then waited for any sign of someone returning. Or someone new arriving. There were rumors her client liked to have a backup for difficult targets, and that Arx was his favorite.

  If Arx was involved, the danger would escalate exponentially. Disguise and improvisation must be expected. The unexpected must be expected. There was no assassin superior. He was at the top of the heap—most likely pretending to be a leaf on that heap, wafting on the wind, or a dead body, or a girl selling cookies.

  When there were no signs of interference, she leaped to the floor of the road and retrieved her darts then sprinted away into the forest where her mount waited for her.

  One hundred and one, yes. Her score was indeed above one hundred. A nice achievement to retire on, but could she? Should she?

  There was one more to kill before she could retire, alas.

  For once, for the first time in her life, she’d let her common sense be swayed by emotion, by love.

  It felt good.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  She’d barely had time to get a hug and a kiss from them—Timin, Zo, and Kon—before they’d ridden out of Omage, and then the ambush had meant they’d had to go even faster, even harder. Relentless riding. She’d fallen asleep in the saddle. Last night when they rested, it’d been less than a few hours before Takk had coaxed, ordered, and insulted them into saddling up again.