Chapter Forty-five
Submission
Chapter Written by Angmar and Elfhild
Her only covering a towel wrapped around
her damp hair, Elffled stood at the edge of the spring, the water trickling
down her thighs in irritating little droplets. She felt the impulse to cover
her breasts and mound of love with her hands. She dared not do that, though,
for such an act of defiance would only anger the Shakh. He watched her from
a short distance away, his arms folded across his chest, his feet planted
slightly apart, the picture of male dominion. She could not bear the
appraising scrutiny and hung her head in humiliation. She hated this, being
on display. She felt as though the entire valley was staring at her nudity.
She even imagined that the Great Eye of Mordor was staring at her with all
its flaming fury, burning her skin and searing her with shame. "Even the
Dark Lord Himself is party to my humiliation," she thought sullenly, not
realizing how true her statement really was.
When Esarhaddon walked behind her and began rubbing her shoulders with a
soft towel, she flinched, and tried to will herself to stand steady. Slowly
moving the towel down her back, Esarhaddon paused when he came to her hips,
his broad hands slipping down and briefly spreading her buttocks. She flamed
in embarrassment but felt an immense relief when he did not touch that
humble spot with his fingers. After he had finished drying her legs, he
moved the cloth around to her front. Except for his breathing, which had
grown steadily heavier, he worked in silence, toweling off her shoulders and
arms. Taking in a deep breath, she held it as she felt the cloth surround
each firm breast in turn.
"Oh, Béma," she prayed, "let this be over quickly!" The slaver was in no
haste, though, and his tormenting touches sent ripples of unwanted desire
coursing through her body. When he had finished with her breasts, he pressed
a hot kiss against the side of her neck and then rubbed the towel over her
stomach. She tensed, her muscles freezing, as the persistent towel moved
over the golden curls of her mound. Squeezing her eyes shut, she pressed her
thighs tightly together, dreading the inexorable plundering of her chastity.
"Do not fight me, slave girl, by locking your legs together! Move them
apart," he ordered, and she had not the courage to defy him. Her face turned
an even deeper shade of crimson when he took his time rubbing between her
legs, lighting a fire within her which she feared might burn out of control.
She hated herself when she heard a moan escape her lips.
"My little Northern flower, your body holds no secrets that I have not
already discovered. You crave more of my touches, do you not?" the slaver
asked her, a deep, knowing chuckle rumbling in his throat.
"No, no, Master, I do not!" she gasped breathlessly. "I do not want you to
-- to do that!"
"To do what, little slave girl?" he challenged. "Say it!" His hand moved
around to clench her gently rising knoll, his fingers leaving trails of fire
as he stroked the golden curls.
"To -- to touch me," she whispered, her eyes slipping closed as he massaged
her mound.
"You might be able to delude yourself, but you can never deceive me! You
want this more than you have ever wanted anything in your life! Now never
lie to me again, or you will find yourself paying a price that you might
consider too high!" he commanded her harshly. His hand suddenly weaving
around a clump of her pubic hair, he painfully wrenched the delicate curls.
"Yes, Master," she whimpered. Shaking almost uncontrollably, she forced
herself to stand still and endure his punishment.
"Tell me how you are starved for the touch of a man!" he ordered her, his
voice hot with lust. "Tell me that you want me to caress you, to finger you,
to explore deep within your wet insides! Then when your aroused body aches
for fulfillment, tell me how you will ride my thrusting fingers until your
body spasms in ecstasy and your honey pot overflows with your passion!" Her
mind almost numb with fear, she could not speak, for her tongue seemed
frozen in her mouth. Impatient with her delay, he savagely ripped out a
clump of her hair by the roots. Searing pain tore through her mound and she
cried out in agony.
"Yes! Yes!" she sobbed desperately, almost hysterical with terror. "I will
never lie to you again! Please stop hurting me! I want you to make love to
me! I yearn for your caresses!" She would tell him anything he wanted to
hear, anything, just so he would stop this searing torment! Maybe if she
said it enough, she would believe it, and the defilement of her body would
be easier to bear.
"That is much better, my little barbarian wench," he whispered in her ear.
The hand which had abused her so wickedly now caressed soothingly over her
throbbing flesh. "What a shame that you and your sister were born heathens!
You know nothing about how to keep yourselves clean and pleasing! Perhaps
the men of your land prefer this abundance of pubic hair, but the men of my
own land find it repugnant! There, they want women whose flesh is smooth as
satin, plucked and burnished to perfection."
"The men of your land!" she raged inside herself. "All barbarians, just like
you! If you had ravished a girl in the Mark, you would be hunted down like
the brute you are and put to the sword! And your women with their smooth,
hairless skin! I could laugh at that if I did not feel pity for them. In
your land, the men must beat the poor creatures into submission, and if the
women do not please them, their lords cast them off, selling them into
slavery!" Elffled did not argue with the slaver, though. Instead, with a
defiant toss of her head, she stood up straighter, holding her chin high.
For this slight rebellion, the slaver dug his blunt fingernails into her
tortured mound, intensifying the pain of the raw, abraded flesh which stung
with the fury of a thousand nettles.
Mocking laughter deep in his throat, Esarhaddon licked over her ear, and
although his hot tongue disgusted her, somehow she felt a little shiver
ripple through her body. Why did he bait her this way when he had told her
that he had no intentions of ever claiming her for his own? Was it to
degrade her because she was a woman of the enemy? Was it to test her inner
strength? Or perhaps break her spirit until she was like a fawning puppet at
the mercy of a puppet master? Still as his tongue tickled over the delicate
shell of her ear, she found herself leaning against him. "Damn him!" she
cursed to herself. Still, no man or boy, not even Inbir, whom she fancied,
possessed such power to excite her. Of course, she was not at all
experienced in these sorts of things – love and lust were new sensations for
her. She heard the slaver murmuring softly in his native language, the
strange words melodic, soothing, both poetic and sensual at the same time.
How could the alien tongue, so hostile to her countrymen's ears, somehow
tease her imagination until she could almost sense the meaning of his words?
He turned her around to face him and his glittering eyes raked over her nude
body. She could not meet his heated eyes as they probed deeply into her own.
Draping the towel about her shoulders, he pulled her close to him. Her hard
nipples were painfully sensitive as they slid against his chest. This cruel,
handsome man with his mocking eyes and lips was trapping her in a web of her
own weaving, and she was powerless to save herself. She felt her will
crumbling as his full, sensual lips possessed hers in a demanding kiss,
plundering her mouth, subduing her tongue, and giving her no doubt that he
was the master and she was his slave.
His voice was deep and husky as he broke the kiss to rest his bearded cheek
against her face. "Perhaps I might pay all the fees upon you and your sister
and keep you at my villa for a time. There, you will be trained fully in the
arts pleasing to men."
The spell broken, she looked up at him in confusion. "Master, I do not
understand what you mean," she confessed shyly. "What arts?"
"You are still an innocent, my lovely," he chuckled as he took her hand in
his and brought it down to his groin, where his considerable bulge had
tented out his pantaloons.
"Oh!" she gasped, sudden understanding dawning upon her.
"Why are you so afraid?" he demanded, capturing her chin in a fierce grip
and turning her face to his once again. He forced her fingers to wrap around
his hardness, and she felt the throbbing beneath her touch.
"Master, I - I... was not brought up this way," she whimpered desperately,
on the verge of tears. "Decent girls do not t-touch men... th-th-there!"
"You amaze me, my lily! Perhaps you are not so accomplished as I had given
you credit." His dark eyes were filled with scorn. "You could have fooled
me, though! Since you were recaptured, you have done everything to flaunt
yourself before my men and me. Decent girls!" he laughed sarcastically. "I
have seen those glances you cast at Inbir, but praise the Gods, he has too
much sense to be enticed by woman's wiles! If your wanton eyes ever seduce
any of my men, woe unto him, for his death will be slow and painful!"
Seizing her by the shoulders, his cruel, hard fingers dug into her flesh.
His intense brown eyes held her frightened ones captive as the dark orbs
seemed to pierce the depths of her soul. "Perhaps I would be more merciful
to you and kill you swiftly," he laughed darkly. For a brief moment, an
unreadable look flickered in his eyes and then it was gone. Releasing her
arms, he pushed her away. "I have no more time for this discussion. The
horses are already saddled and waiting. Now get dressed," he ordered her
sharply.
"Yes, Master," Elffled replied, shaken by his threats. "I will dress as
quickly as I can!" She fell to her knees to kiss his sleeve. Somehow she
would survive this!
Watching her from beneath hooded lids, Esarhaddon crossed his arms over his
chest, his face an impassive mask. Far different from his expressionless
exterior was his mind, where rivaling thoughts fought for dominance. His
lascivious nature vied with his greed, and although the war was continuous,
greed would always be the winner of any battle.
"This girl and her sister are lovely little houris, their fair faces like
the moon rising in its fullness! Their bodies are ripe peaches ready for the
plucking. With their blue eyes, fair coloring and golden hair, what rarities
they will be when they are offered for sale in Nurn!" He fought down his
growing lust, for he had always prided himself on his self-control. Though
it required much of his considerable willpower to refrain from raping these
gentle blossoms, he wanted to introduce them to their growing sensuality
slowly.
"Such beauties!" he thought, congratulating himself on his good fortune.
"What man would not give a prince's ransom for two such lovely girls who,
while still retaining their virginity, are skillful in their abilities to
excite men and hold their attention?" The twins would be taught to respond
to pleasure, and soon they would yearn for the touch of a man, slaves to
their own passions. After their training in his villa was complete, their
price would be incalculable!
When Elffled had finished dressing, Esarhaddon's half-closed eyes lingered
appreciatively over her form. Then he snapped his fingers, turned and began
walking down the hill from the spring, the girl humbly following three paces
behind.
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