Savage Surrender

by Deanna Ashford

  ‘You’re certainly beautiful enough to be a forest wraith,’ he murmured in confused bewilderment.

  ‘I came to tend your wounds . . .’ She hesitated, uncertain whether to use his name.

  ‘Tend my wounds, sweet lady?’ he questioned. Tarn’s eyes were the deep blue of a clear summer sky. Briefly they clouded with pain as he tried to move his head. ‘Ye gods, my head aches,’ he muttered.

  ‘Lie still. You’ve been unconscious for many hours.’ She touched his forehead with trembling hands. His skin was now warm and slightly clammy. ‘And you’re a little feverish.’

  ‘I’ve been insensible for that long?’ Tarn gave a brittle laugh. ‘I’m certain that swine Rorg must have suffered more. I hit his sex so hard he’s unlikely ever to be able to father a bastard ag–’ Tarn faltered, two spots of his colour appearing on his cheeks. ‘Apologies, sweet lady, my words were crude and unnecessary.’

  ‘Not unnecessary,’ she said gently. ‘Rorg deserved his fate.’

  Tarn did not appear to realise that she knew who, and what, he was talking about. ‘Lady, you must excuse my untoward behaviour . . .’ he stuttered. ‘To kiss and fondle you like that was unpardonable.’

  ‘Your brain was fevered from the blow to your head.’ She smiled tenderly. ‘You did not know what you were doing. In your inflamed imagination you believed me to be some spirit of the forest come to claim you as her own.’

  ‘I must have been dreaming most vividly,’ Tarn said weakly. ‘I could have sworn I felt gentle hands caressing me in the most intimate manner.’

  Now it was Rianna’s turn to blush. ‘I was tending the wound close to your groin,’ she said shyly. ‘In my haste and concern it is possible I mistakenly touched your phal . . . touched you intimately,’ she said in embarrassment, stumbling awkwardly over her words.

  ‘I should be grateful that you showed such concern for my welfare.’ Taking hold of her hand, he pressed it to his lips. ‘I thank you for your kindness, sweet lady.’ Tarn tried to lift his head but he grimaced in pain and perspiration broke out on his brow.

  ‘No,’ she pressed him back down. ‘Your head wound is bad, and you must lie still for some time, until I deem it safe for you to move.’

  ‘I will do as you say,’ he said, attempting a shaky smile. ‘What is your name, sweet lady?’

  ‘Rianna.’

  ‘And how came you to be on this journey? Judging by your unusual colouring, you are not from Percheron. I’ve never seen hair of such a glorious hue.’

  ‘I’m travelling to Aguilar to be married,’ she told him.

  ‘Then you are the noble lady who is to wed Lord Sarin?’ Tarn asked in harsh surprise. ‘The daughter of the Protector of Harn.’

  ‘Yes,’ she confirmed a little uneasily. The cruelty inflicted on Tarn made her wonder even more about her future husband. She could only hope Lord Sarin knew nothing of Tarn’s mistreatment.

  ‘Sarin.’ There was derision and abhorrence in the way Tarn spoke her bridegroom’s name. ‘How could your father sacrifice you to such a man?’

  ‘It was necessary for the protection of my country,’ she replied, ‘lest he try to conquer Harn like he did Kabra. Fate has set my path, just as it has yours.’

  ‘I made my fate, no one else had a hand in it. I brought about my own demise.’ Tarn smiled wryly. ‘Who would have thought the Prince of Kabra could fall so low?’ He saw the apprehension and fear she felt reflected in her eyes. ‘Do not be concerned, Lady Rianna. My situation is far different from yours.’

  ‘We are both captives in our own way,’ she admitted uneasily. ‘Though my prison is far more comfortable than yours.’

  His expression softened as he lifted a hand to touch her pale cheek. ‘My hatred of what Sarin has done to Kabra colours my opinion of the man. He can be captivating and charming to those he admires. Sarin worships beauty and you are lovely enough to turn the head of any man. I’m sure he will make you a fine husband.’

  ‘You speak as if you know him well.’

  ‘Very well,’ Tarn confirmed. ‘After he conquered Kabra, I resided at his court for a number of years. He treated me as a friend, a brother even; we were very close. I hear he was devastated when I chose to lead the insurrection in Kabra. Now he despises me as a traitor to our friendship as well as to Percheron.’

  ‘Then I fear his plans for you will be harsh,’ she said sadly. ‘But do you not think that if he once cared for you he will temper his judgement with mercy?’ She blushed awkwardly. ‘I’m certain he would not approve of his soldiers abusing you as they did. The soldier, Rorg and his sergeant deserved any injuries you gave them.’

  All the colour drained from Tarn’s face and his features contorted in distress. ‘You saw?’

  ‘Yes,’ she admitted, unable to meet his anguished gaze. ‘When I discovered what terrible living conditions you were forced to endure, I persuaded Chancellor Lesand to allow you to cleanse yourself. I wanted to ensure he kept his promise so I came to this encampment and I unintentionally saw what they did to you.’

  Tarn turned his head miserably away from her. ‘I cannot believe you witnessed my humiliation,’ he said, his voice cracking on the words.

  ‘But it was not your fault.’ She was filled with infinite pity for the suffering of this handsome prince. Tentatively she stroked his taut cheek. ‘Do not blame yourself, Tarn, for what others inflicted upon you.’

  ‘Say no more,’ he groaned. ‘If only I could find a way to erase the feel of those hands from my flesh.’

  Leaning forward, she kissed his cheek with sympathetic understanding. ‘Let me help you,’ she whispered, her warm breath brushing his face. ‘Please look at me, Tarn.’

  Slowly he turned his head. Rianna was so agonisingly close to his trembling vulnerable mouth. She wanted to kiss those soft lips, inhale the breath from his body and help wipe away his pain. Resisting the temptation, she smiled tenderly at him.

  ‘Rianna,’ he murmured as he stared deep into her compassion-filled green eyes. ‘Such a beautiful name, but nowhere near as beautiful as its owner. No mere mortal has ever been so lovely or so tender-hearted.’

  She placed the palm of her hand on the hard planes of his chest, feeling the agitated beating of his heart. ‘Tarn, you barely know me.’

  ‘I know all that I need to know.’ He covered her hand with his. ‘Earlier, when I said I felt you touching me intimately, I was not dreaming, was I?’ he asked entreatingly.

  She couldn’t lie to him. ‘No, you were not dreaming,’ she said shyly. ‘Before you, I had never seen a naked man. I was admiring your body. You’re beautiful also, Tarn.’

  ‘No, I’m not, I’m tainted,’ he said in disgust. ‘Forever befouled.’

  ‘Not forever.’ She ran her fingers over his chest, feeling the hard muscles tremble beneath her caressing touch. ‘I could wash away your degradation and make you whole again.’

  ‘Please,’ he begged as her hands trailed lower to tantalisingly stroke the iron hard planes of his stomach. ‘Help me.’

  She slid her hands under the fabric covering his groin, savouring the heat of his golden flesh, the springiness of the curls covering his pubis. Tarn’s phallus was still partially engorged, but now lying prone against his stomach. She touched the velvety skin of his shaft, feeling it jerk excitedly. ‘I’m inexperienced in these matters,’ she whispered as she ran the pads of her fingers slowly down the side of his rod of hot male flesh.

  With a trembling hand, Tarn pulled the striped fabric away, exposing all of his sex to her view. ‘I ache for you, sweet Rianna,’ he pleaded.

  Cautiously she curled her fingers around his shaft, feeling the glorious power of his manhood throbbing gently beneath her fingertips. Then, unsure what she should do next, she recalled the sight of Tarn chained between the trees and the crude pumping motion the sergeant had employed when he’d forced Tarn’s unwilling phallus into life. Using gentle, less vigorous strokes, she began to mimic the movement. At once, she felt Tarn’s cock
begin to harden, and she heard him give a soft encouraging moan.

  The sound pierced her body like a sword, travelling deep to the pit of her stomach. Her womb throbbed. A sudden rush of moisture seeped from her sex, and coated her inner thighs. She was filled with the sudden need to be invaded and stretched by Tarn’s rigid staff of flesh.

  Trying to ignore her own desires, Rianna stroked his cock shaft, still employing smooth regular strokes. His organ grew rapidly until it was firm and hard. She slid her fingers higher, forcing the skin on his cock to roll back and expose the swollen purple head beneath. She milked the shaft with slow precision, until she saw a bead of moisture seep from the tiny mouth at its tip. Soon the collar of flesh tightly ringed the engorged head. It appeared to increase the pressure in the bulb; the skin of the plum stretched, becoming taut and shiny.

  With her other hand, she caressed his trembling belly and the soft blond curls at his pubis. Then she stroked the smooth pliable skin of his balls, feeling them tighten and ripple under her gentle touch. Her innocent attempt to pleasure Tarn appeared to be working most admirably. He rolled his head from side to side as a soft, ‘Yes,’ drifted from his open lips.

  Rianna wanted to kiss Tarn, to impale her throbbing sex on his iron-hard rod and feel him thrusting deep inside her feminine sheath. She pressed her legs tightly together and ignored the wetness seeping from her pudenda, instead taking pleasure from Tarn’s steadily increasing excitement. Pumping and squeezing the stem of his penis ever harder, she disregarded the growing fire in the depths of her own sex.

  The wrinkled skin of Tarn’s seed sac hardened into two firm stones. A harsh groan came from Tarn’s mouth as a shudder of pleasure traversed the muscles of his groin. His stomach tightened, his phallus jumped beneath her encircled fingers and his balls tensed. A great jet of creamy seed spurted from his cock head, followed by another and another.

  Shivering with the strength of her emotion, Rianna looked up at Tarn’s face. His eyes were closed and he was breathing heavily; he appeared to be at peace with himself.

  ‘Sweet Rianna.’ His lips curved into a contented smile. ‘I adore you,’ he murmured so softly it might have been but a whisper on the wind.

  Glancing briefly in the direction of the guards to ensure they were still asleep, Rianna returned her attention to Tarn. Taking a cloth from her bag she cleaned the remains of Tarn’s creamy emanations from his still trembling flesh. She took hold of the other blanket Baral had given her and gently placed it over him. Then she tenderly stroked his cheek.

  ‘You must try and rest now,’ she said, feeling a great affection for the handsome warrior. She had never realised how easy it was to give pleasure to a man. She stared at the handsome planes of his face, the tender vulnerability in his full lips. She was certain Tarn would recover from his injuries, but she feared for his eventual fate.

  Suddenly, she was disturbed by the sound of movement behind her. Thinking it might be one of the guards, she turned her head. It was Baral walking towards her carrying a cup of the steaming potion.

  ‘My lady,’ Baral said anxiously. ‘I’m sorry this has taken so long.’

  ‘No matter.’ She smiled tenderly down at Tarn, who had now opened his eyes and was staring up at her. ‘The prisoner had but just regained consciousness. But the wound was as bad as I feared, and his brain is in total turmoil. He knows neither who or where he is. Also he has a fever. It appears I will have to tend to him for some days yet.’

  As she spoke, Tarn gave a faint, barely perceptible nod and closed his eyes.

  Chapter Four

  ONE OF THE herbs in the mixture Jenna had prepared would make Tarn sleep deeply. Rianna knew from experience that total rest and relaxation aided recovery, especially for wounds such as Tarn’s. She ensured he was made more comfortable, with extra blankets and a soft pillow for his head, then she fed him the potion.

  ‘It will be safe to leave him now,’ she told Baral, once Tarn had drifted off into a peaceful slumber.

  He nodded, then picked up her bag and the lantern. ‘It’s late, Lady Rianna. You’ll not get much rest, it’ll be morning soon.’

  ‘No matter,’ she replied as they walked out of the encampment and into the eerie stillness of the forest. Rianna knew it was unlikely that dangerous wild animals would venture close to the campsites, but she found the darkness menacing and frightening. ‘I shall have to return first thing in the morning, before we depart, to ensure that the prisoner is transported in comfort. He cannot be returned to that terrible cage. He must be carried in a specially prepared wagon. Too much jarring will cause further damage to his head. If he’s not treated gently I cannot be sure he will recover.’

  ‘Lord Sarin would never forgive Chancellor Lesand, if Tarn of Kabra dies,’ Baral admitted worriedly. ‘His orders are for the rebel to be brought before him in chains, but unharmed.’

  ‘Then you must tell the Chancellor, Baral. He must ensure that Tarn is treated with special care.’

  ‘Indeed I will,’ Baral replied as they came in sight of the other encampment. ‘I’m sure he’ll do everything you recommend.’

  ‘Good.’ Rianna smiled to herself. At least Tarn would travel in comfort from now on. If she acted with shrewd caution she could keep Tarn in her care until they reached Aguilar. The handsome prince fascinated her, and she wanted to get to know him better. Perhaps, under her persuasion, Sarin might relent a little and deal with Tarn less harshly. Who could blame a prince for trying to regain control of his own kingdom?

  ‘Now you must rest,’ Baral said as he escorted her to the steps of her wagon. He handed Rianna the leather bag containing her medicines.

  ‘Thank you, Baral, and good night.’

  ‘Sweet dreams, my lady,’ he replied with a gentle smile.

  As Baral walked away, she looked around expecting to find Jenna waiting for her, but she was nowhere to be seen. Rianna felt too weary to seek her out, but as she was about to climb the steps to her house on wheels, she heard a sound, like a low husky laugh, coming from the direction of the forest, followed by an audible moan.

  The clouds covering the night sky had been blown away by a faint breeze, which heralded the steadily approaching sunrise. The bright moonlight made the forest appear less menacing. Rianna saw a golden glow coming from a patch of thick bushes just inside the trees ringing the campsite.

  Putting down her bag, Rianna crept cautiously forward. She heard a breathy sighing coming from the undergrowth. She couldn’t be certain but it sounded suspiciously like Jenna. Trying not to make a sound, she knelt and parted the interlaced branches.

  Jenna and her soldier friend, Mircon, were indulging in carnal pleasures. A lantern glowed beside them, bathing their bodies in a pool of golden light.

  Rianna drew in her breath. Mircon was naked. The dusky skin of his chest was covered by a thick matt of black curls, which spread downwards over his belly to his groin. Jenna, also unclothed, crouched astride Mircon’s thighs, kissing and stroking his engorged penis.

  The organ was nowhere near as magnificent as Tarn’s. It was shorter and slimmer, curving slightly at the end, while the bulb at its tip was a rich ruby red.

  Jenna pulled Mircon’s cock into her mouth and sucked on it lewdly. Rianna shivered excitedly. Her breasts suddenly started to throb and ache as she became conscious of every pore of her body. Heat spread downwards, filling her sex; powerfully erotic emotions suffused her thoughts. First it had been Tarn, now this. Her innocence was being eroded away. The sensual side of her nature had awakened from its youthful slumbers and overtaken every aspect of her existence.

  ‘I want to come inside you,’ Mircon groaned.

  Jenna gave a soft laugh and eased her body higher. Straddling her lover’s hips, she parted the lips of her labia with her fingers and slowly impaled herself on his cock, pushing down hard, until the brown curls at her pubis ground against the black curls circling the root of his penis.

  Urgently, Mircon grabbed hold of Jenna’s hips, digging his
fingers into the full flesh. She lifted her body and thrust it downwards again, pumping herself up and down on the rigid stem. Rianna was overcome by their mutual lust. Opening her own thighs, she slid one cautious finger between the lips of her vulva. She was moist, the interior flesh warm and pleasantly slippery. With the tip of her finger she sought her clitoris and rubbed it gently, until it began to throb with a sweet heady fire of delight.

  Unable to forget the wrenching pleasure she felt while watching Tarn climax as he strained against his chains, she rubbed the bud even harder, feeling a responsive tingling deep inside her womanly sheath.

  She saw Mircon’s shaft, gleaming wetly in the dim light, as it slid smoothly in and out of Jenna’s vagina. Agitatedly, Rianna pressed her finger harder against her throbbing nubbin. The tiny clearing was filled with breathy moans and the sucking sound of flesh moving wetly on flesh as Jenna and Mircon approached their orgasms. Suddenly Jenna gave a high pitched squeal, her buttocks tensed and she ground her pelvis down against her lover’s belly. Mircon grunted and heaved Jenna’s body off him. She fell limply at his side as he climaxed, his face contorting with pleasure as creamy liquid spurted from the head of his cock.

  Rianna shuddered, rubbing her fingers harder against her rosy pearl. It throbbed wildly, her flesh tensed and she was wracked by wave after wave of turbulent bliss. The pulsing pleasure slowly died away, leaving her weak, exhausted and trembling. She took a deep breath, and crawled away from the bushes. Then she rose to her feet and walked unsteadily back to her wagon.

  Baral stifled a weary yawn as he escorted Rianna through the forest the following morning. The main encampment was a hive of activity. Most of the travellers had already breakfasted. Wagons were being packed and horses harnessed ready for their journey to recommence.