The Warlord ((Methos and Vivid))

It had been a long and hard journey to the Northern borders of her father’s kingdom. The weather had been dark and dismal; foreshadowing the take over of peaceful Elys. Rain continuously beat on her form and frigid wind felt as if it blew right through her. What little magic she was able to learn did not protect her fully from the conditions and she had needed to take many breaks. There had also been perils to deal with. When it was not raining or blistery cold, monsters were out, and on more than one occasion the beautiful young woman had to run for her life. There were also bandits that attempted to steal from her and packs of wild animals and other things. The princess had been naïve and had only brought a bow, some arrows, and a dirk to defend herself.

As the days passed she saw more and more of the warlord’s men. Their armor was rustic at best and they carried large weapons. Some towns had even been taken over. Word of them had not reached her by the time she left. No doubt her poor father was now in more mental anguish and that only drove her on further. The more she saw her people suffer, the angrier she became. More and more villages were attacked, attacked, ransacked, and claimed for the enemy. The more she traveled the more she wanted to kill the bastard that had done this to her homeland.

Finally she had made it to the enemy enclosure. The city closest to the edges of the boundary was completely and utterly annihilated, only leaving a few buildings to house troops in tact. A makeshift fence was built out of rough metals and hacked wood. Guards were posted at the front of the poorly made gate, letting people in who had animals and other goods. Madgala circled around the fence, letting down her hood so she could examine it. Thick strawberry blonde curls sprang out from beneath it and pale violet eyes examined the build. She was completely and utterly perplexed. This was the first time she had to do something like this.

Two hands clamped roughly around her shoulders. She let out a gasp. One of the guards had grasped her and spun her around. Magdala bit her lip. This was not what was supposed to happen. Damn it!

“What are you doing?” he barked a question at her.

“I-I was s-sent for,” she lied quickly. “Um… I… I…” Damn it! She could not string two words together! The guard gave her a look. It was quite clear that he did not believe what she said. Magdala had never been that good of a liar. Though he let go of her and shook his head.

“You were sent for? Ah-ha. For what purpose, may I ask?”

“Um, the commander wanted to see me. I am here to um… offer my soothsaying abilities to his cause.”

After a few more exchanged words she got the guard to actually yield. A sigh of relief escaped her lips as she was lead personally through the encampment once town. It was the mayor’s mansion she was taken to. The walls crawled upward, going for three stories. There was also a basement in the bottom that, little did she know, had been converted into a makeshift dungeon. He lead her into the huge dining room. It had been converted into a makeshift throne room. This must have been where that bastard was.

Re: The Warlod ((Methos and Vivid))

Naturally once Madgala was lead to the mansion the guard would indicate that the woman claimed to be some sort of soothsayer whom had been sent for. The guards at the mansion seemed rather more sceptical of the claim as one of the brutes at the entrance to the makeshift throne room remarked “No one told me of any soothsayer being expected. We would know about that.” The fellow stated rather flatly. The surly guard looked at the woman and raised his hand to tug on a blonde curl of hair. “Bah, send her in. he likes blondes.. I’m sure he’ll find some use for her.”

If that was less than reassuring the doors that blocked the way to the room were thrown open and the woman was pushed through the doors and down onto her knees before the throne. The guard that had decided to allow her to pass loomed over her to growl “You bow before our lord.” The bastard in question was upon the rather crude throne found at the far end of the room. The throne was little more than an immense and imposing chair with the skulls of two animals fixed upon the end of the arms and the hides of wolves and bears lining it. What it lacked in artistry it seemed to make up for in grisly intimidation.

If the chair seemed designed to intimidate, one wondered after the necessity once its occupant was spied. He was human, but of a size that one wondered if he wasn’t partially a giant or otherwise gifted with unusual proportions but the warlord when stand would tower at six feet and nine inches. The span of his shoulders seemed to add to his size, their breadth and the musculature that filled them out seemed to lend his height a sense of primal power. That brawny frame was set against swarthy skin and a mane of raven locks. His facial features could be described as handsome, but there was a hardness to them that the term failed to capture. His eyes were dark, and seemed to glimmer like burnished coals with an intensity within them. He was clad at the moment in snug black leather britches and boots and tunic of the same material. A sword lay at the side of the throne as he directed his gaze at the woman pushed to the floor before him.

His eyes would simply observe the woman for a rather long moment. They seemed to slide over and scrutinize her as though at a glance seeking to take her weight and measure. Finally he spoke to simply state “What have you brought me?” Evidently regarding the woman as nothing more than another girl produced by his soldiers seeking to curry favour with him by bringing one local girl or another that they thought may strike his fancy.

The guard remarked “She claims to be a soothsayer that you called for.” The warlord remarked rather simply “I need no woman to tell me my destiny, I carve it with a sword.” A smirk graced the large man’s lips as he leaned forward slightly and he remarked “But that does raise the question of what exactly you are doing here doesn’t it girl?” He rather idly remarked “And it’s a question you’d best think of a rather pleasing answer to rather quickly.”

Re: The Warlod ((Methos and Vivid))

Magdala was pushed roughly to the ground. A grimace passed her lips. Never did she want to bow to that man. Her hands clenched but she kept herself on the ground. For now she was going to have to play along with this charade. She looked up. The anger in her pale eyes was evident. No matter how hard she tried she was not going to be able to hide it. Or her hate.

The chair was appalling. It was covered in furs and on either arm rest were the skulls of some poor animals. Her mouth went dry. She refused to let herself be frightened by the damned this thing that the warlord put his ass in. That wasn’t required to make her afraid though. The man himself was simply terrifying. He was a wall of muscle! No matter how hard she tried she could not help but visibly shrink at the sight of him.

Pull yourself together! This is just a man! It doesn’t matter how big he is or how many weapons he has, he is just a barbaric human from an inferior place.

The beautiful half elf dipped into her quickly vanishing courage reservoir and kept her eyes locked on him. She didn’t think that she would be able to keep up the soothsayer lie for long. A man like this didn’t take stock in anyone but himself. His arrogance was contemptible and she could not stand the way he looked at her,

Magdala pulled herself up, not caring if she had to stay on the floor or not. SHE was the princess of this kingdom. That man had no proper sway in that land. She placed her hands boldly on her shoulders. Her clothes most certainly didn’t show her status. They were torn and sullied with the filth of her travel but, if someone were to look close, they would notice that they once were very fine garments.

“I am Crown Princess Magdala Isoitiel.” she boldly said. “The reason I came today was to speak with you or rather, demand that you leave my homeland. You are brutally killing my people, ravaging my land, and destroying the legacy that my father’s fathers built.”

Such bold words coming from a relatively weak girl. She had walked right into the lion’s den. The guard was getting read to grab his sword and strike her down. It would be very simple to kill her and win part of the war right there. A lump rose in her throat and she forced it down.

Re: The Warlod ((Methos and Vivid))

The warlord looked at her for a moment and then laughed. He shook his head and then simply leaned back upon that rather macabre throne. The rather deep tenor of his voice booming forth in amusement as he listened to her. Eventually his mirth seemed to abate long enough for him to manage to remark. “I see. So just so I am sure I have the right of what you’re saying - you think I’m brutally killing your people ravaging your land and destroying your father’s kingdom without much qualm eh?” He paused as he reiterated what the girl had said “And you thought after I had done all that, that you had but to show up to ask it and I would leave?”

The warlord smirked as he observed “By the gods girl, they do raise their nobility as daft as a smith’s anvil down here don’t they?” He laughed “You come here to tell me what horrible things I’m doing and I’m going to stop - JUST - because you asked?” He idly drummed his fingers upon the skull affixed to the arm of one chair which seemed to resemble that of a bear. “And you wandered out here all by yourself leaving you completely in my power.”

To some extent the warlord seemed absolutely stunned by the stupidity that the princess had displayed in coming here. He simply smirked as he noted “I could have you killed where you stand.” He idly noted “Have that pretty throat of your slit and watch you gasp as you fell to the floor. If you think your father’s legacy is being destroyed now, imagine how he’d react to his little girl’s head being sent to him in a box.”

The warlord rose from where he sat and slowly came to his rather towering height as a rather cruel smile graced his lips. “After all realistically now - what is the best likely option you have coming out of this? Held for ransom? Hopefully not damaged too badly.” He smirked as he looked at the girl and drew a dagger from his belt. He idly brought the blade towards the princess’ throat. Thereafter, he trace the blade along her throat.

He smirked as he idly noted “Hmm…live or die.” He seemed to consider her fate as the knife would press to her flesh. The blade traced along her neck as through casually shaving imaginary hairs from it. Although after a moment of toying with the idea, he idly cut away the cloak she was wearing and thereafter he brought the knife to the bodice of her dress and idly began to slice it open. “Live…for now.”

Re: The Warlod ((Methos and Vivid))

The way he spoke to her was infuriating. Daft?! He was the one that decided to push his way into her land! What did he expect from her? She was not going to let it simply happen. Though she did feel a little silly, standing there as he belittled her. Being raised the way she was Magdala turned out to be a little spoiled. Everyone always did what she said. It never occurred to her that someone may not do something simply because she demanded it. She crossed her arms protectively over her chest. Never before had she felt so completely foolish and, what’s worse, she felt alone.

Her eyes widened in fear as he continued to speak. It also never occurred to her that a firm voice would not keep her from being murdered on the spot. Her shoulders rounded and she actually took a step back, hand on the dirk hidden in her bodice. He stood and she took another few steps back. Her fear was getting the better of her. It was all well and good to stand up for what you believed in but this was more dangerous than what she anticipated.

The dagger came out and she froze. He pointed it strait at her neck, and traced it along the swanlike column. This close she barely came up to the bottom of his chest. She tilted her head upwards. The act was supposed to be defiant. She was supposed to be accepting death nobly. As he continued to play around, her lips trembled. He was going to kill her…

But, to her relief he said live. That was short lived however. The sharp knife cut away at her cloak and then started in at her bodice. She let out a cry and she clumsily caught the small blade that fell from the cleft of her bosom. Little goosebumps rose on her chest as it was exposed. For a woman part elf, her breasts were large and rounded with tiny pink nipples. For a few seconds she didn’t know what to do. Cover herself or try to fight back?

Finally she brought the blade up to his stomach, though against his bulging muscles, she didn’t know how much damage it would do. “I am not asking you to leave, I am telling you to.” Her voice did not carry the same power as her words though. Her whole body was trembling. “And don’t you dare touch me! I’ll kill you if you try to do anything else.”

Her eyes were full of tears. She doubted that he would back off. He had the upper hand and he knew it. If he wanted her body, he knew that he could take it just as easily as he conquered her land. A lump rose in her throat she swallowed harshly. The tip of the dirk shook against his body. Oh, why couldn’t she just stop shaking?

The guard simply stood back and watched. He knew how much his commander loved to break women and this girl was begging for it.

Re: The Warlod ((Methos and Vivid))

Like any predator the warlord could smell fear. Oh and now that smell was thick upon her. His eyes would slide over the exposed shape of her chest. A rather bemused smirk graced his lips as he remarked “Perhaps I will enjoy …educating you on the realities of the world.” He smiled positively wickedly when he remarked “I wonder if you will bleed more when I take you than you would have before you died if I’d slit your throat.”

The girl pressed a dirk to his stomach, and he glanced down at it rather casually. He paused and then seemed to take a moment to tense the muscles that lined his stomach. “Go ahead - try it.” He stated, seeming to invite her to stab him. His dark eyes gleamed as he leaned in and remarked “DO IT!” He demanded of her before he snarled “You haven’t the strength or the will to kill.”

Whether he was supremely confident that the layers of muscle upon his body would foil any serious damage to his body, or that his demeanour would break her attempt he didn’t reveal. Rather his had had drawn closer to hers as he yelled at her, but before she was given more than a moment to comply with his demand his head rather swiftly bludgeoned towards her seeking to strike her with the bony surface of his forehead upon her own head. His arm rather abruptly would strike downwards upon her wrist seeking to knock away her blade and thereafter to wrest it from her if she didn’t obligingly drop the weapon.

The deep voice would fill her ears once more as he remarked “Now princess, you think you can come here and threaten me harm.” His form would loom large in her field of vision as he stated “You think you can demand that I do anything.” His tone held a certain edge of irritation. “You think you can be insolent when I spare your miserable life?”

That large hand would soon circle about her throat. His fingers wrapping around her neck and squeezing. His hand tensing as his fingers tightened to begin to choke the life out of her. Her life literally being held in his hand. The force of his grip only lessening to painful from life threatening as he growled “Now beg.”

Re: The Warlod ((Methos and Vivid))

He was right. She couldn’t do it. Not even when he taunted her. Not even with the travesties he committed against her father. His voice frightened her and caused whatever malice she had inside of her turned into abject terror. All of the muscles in her body seized up and words refused to form on her lips. That didn’t matter though. Before she could do anything he acted. A bright light flashed in front of her eyes as his head made contact with hers. Another painful whack hit against wrists and she cried out softly as the dirk clattered to the floor.

When she regained her sense the man was looming over her, all she could see was him and his body. A slight pain throbbed in her head. This was too much for her! Magdala was now regretting ever coming here. It would have been better if she just stayed back at the castle. Why did she think she could reach an understanding with this Barbarian? All he would be able to understand was death and sexual coupling.

His hand wrapped around her throat and he squeezed. All thoughts were stricken from her mind, replaced by the desperate need to survive as breathing became impossible. The pain from his fingers was almost unbearable as he crushed her windpipe. Instinctually she began to claw at his fingers, gagging. He loosened his grip and she let out a pained sob. The tears were now falling down her cheeks without restraint. She didn’t want to be killed! She took in breath roughly and her chest pushed against his forearm.

Gods, she didn’t want to beg. Not from this man! But what choice did she have? Living was certainly important. If not life than perhaps a more dignified way to be killed. Suffocation was messy. She lowered her clawing fingers and swallowed harshly.

“P-p-please,” she managed hoarsely. It hurt to even talk! “Please. Spare my life. Please.”

Her begging was desperate and pathetic and not befitting of a woman of her station. Her cheeks turned bright red from the lack of air, pain, and humiliation.

Re: The Warlod ((Methos and Vivid))

So soft and so predictable - far too afraid to even act upon her threat to him. He could almost feel the horror and the fear that pulsed through her veins. Oh yes, she was his now more solidly than if he had her under lock and key. Fear was a far more effective box to lock people in, for once they were in it, they became their own jailor. As the dirk fell to the floor with a metallic clatter, that last security blanket was stripped away.

It would be so easy for the warlord to kill her. His grip had but to tighten a bit more and he could snap her windpipe like it were a chicken bone to be discarded after its flesh had been torn away. His fingers would begin to mark her neck. Five angry red imprints forming upon that soft half elven flesh. Her skin protesting at the rather rough grasp it was subjected to.

Her tears were satisfying as he heard her gasp and sob while those tears flowed. He waited as undoubtedly for a princess whom had thought to demand he leave to be made to beg for her life was truly a humiliation. And the blush was there as she hoarsely asked him to spare her life. His hand would loosen ever so slightly as though he had decided to grant that pitiful plea.

In truth he simply allowed her several deep and likely necessary breathes for sweet oxygen to fill her lungs once more. Then perhaps most cruelly for having allowed her that brief flicker of hope that the worst of her suffocation had passed, his hand tightened upon her neck to once more slowly squeeze the life out of her. His voice would cut through the agony as he stated “Please is not good enough. Justify your continued existence for me. Why should I spare you?”

If she thought her humiliation ended with begging she had thought wrong. Now he meant to force her to bargain with the devil for her continued existence. His dark eyes gleamed as he regarded her, after all it was ever a curious matter to see how people placed a value to their own lives.

Re: The Warlod ((Methos and Vivid))

Magdala was starting to feel like a small mouse that was being played with by a mountain lion. He smirked down at her. Despite her pride and anger, her eyes begged for him to stop. It was more pain than what she had felt before. Bruises began to form beneath his fingers and she closed her eyes tightly as more tears fell down her cheeks. Black dots swam in front of her eyes and, suddenly, his fingers released her neck enough for her to breath. Greedily she sucked in air. Her head was pounding now but she didn’t care. This warlord had showed some mercy! As much as she wanted to rip his face off, she couldn’t help but feel a twisted sense of gratitude.

Whatever relief she was feeling was soon taken away. His fingers tightened around her neck, threatening to snap it in half. This wasn’t over by a long shot. She tried to beg more but he was strangling the life from her body and her vocal chords were under that iron like grasp. He wanted her to tell him why he should spare her. She was a princess of the land he was trying to invade, for gods’ sake! All of the killing could be avoided if he simply married her! Though the prospect of being bound to that man until he died was not pleasing.

She was sure that wasn’t what he meant in the lest. He wanted her in the most primal sense. It repulsed her but what was she going to do? Sully her body or live. It was a very cruel catch. No one would want her after this incident. Magdala didn’t want to die though! Panic streamed through her and she began to tug at her torn bodice, managing to pull a good portion of it off. Her breasts were now completely visible to him.

With a lot of force she managed to say, “M-my body. T-take my body instead…”

That was all she was able to choke out before slumping forward. There was no dread of what was to come yet. Her entire being was focused on getting sweet oxygen into her lungs. All she wanted in that moment was to live.

Re: The Warlod ((Methos and Vivid))

The warlord let the feel of his fingers gripping her neck linger. His eyes were fixed upon her features watching every flicker of her expression. Relief and then horror in turn were both spied as they crossed her face. Indeed he continued to suffocate her as smiled in a rather dark fashion. Indeed he seemed to take a certain perverse pleasure in her rather wretched state and her rather extreme vulnerability.

He watched as she tugged at her dress until her chest was fully exposed to him. He heard her manage to choke out her plea for him to take her body. As she suggested that and slumped forward his grip would loosen as he idly remarked “Very well, I’ll claim your body not your life.” Although the smirk that played across his lips should perhaps have warned her then and there that how he’d interpret that offer perhaps varied from how she would.

Yet for the moment as air was allowed to flood into her lungs it was if nothing else an immediate reprieve from rather painful strangulation. But the warlord idly gestured to the guard whom had remained hovering about. “Place the brand in the fire.” He stated rather simply as he casually dragged the princess over towards the side of his throne by her shoulder.

He reached into a sack that lay beside the throne and after a moment he seemed to find what he was looking for. A collar of gold was pulled forth from among a number that were crafted from iron and silver and thereafter unlocked before being unceremoniously thrust about her neck and fastened into place. While he did this a branding iron was brought in by the guard in question and thrust into the fireplace to heat.

The warlord’s hands would grasp hold of her dress and pull it downwards seeking to strip her body of garment that remained upon her. His fingers seeking to deprive her of that modesty and bare her body to his view as he leaned in towards her and remarked “So kind of you to volunteer to be my slave ‘princess’.” He smirked as he noted “The brand will hurt but really that and the collar will be all that prevents my warriors from each taking their turn should they feel the urge.” His lips twitched as he noted “And we do so like elven and half elven women - they’re always so tight at least to begin with.”

Re: The Warlod ((Methos and Vivid))

Sweet air! She took two large gulps of it, placing her hand gently on the bruised flesh of her neck. She winced. No matter how much she would like to have thought she was immune to vanity, the thought of ugly dark marks on her pale skin made her very worried.

Her stomach churned. Dear gods! What had she agreed to in her desperation? He was going to rape her! Little did she know what actual horrors laid before her. Her pale lavender eyes pleaded desperately with his even though she attempted to keep her emotions hidden. She attempted to stand up strait. This was her fate and she would accept it. A night of passion would go by quickly enough.

“What?” she asked in utter disbelief when the word brand came from her captor’s lips. There was no doubt in her mind where this was going. Instead of taking her body for pleasure, he was going to inflict untold amounts of pain to it! In panic Magdala attempted to dig her heels into the ground but he was much stronger than she and he pulled her along like some toy.

Her heart went wild as he looked through a bag beside her throne. On top of the burning of her immaculate flesh, he was going to add something to it. She closed her eyes and waited for more agony. Something was thrust around her neck and she expected for her to be choked again. Instead she was met with a small click and the feeling of cold metal encasing the delicate column. The beautiful half elf opened her eyes and looked down. To her shock there was a golden collar around her neck. She tried to pry it off but it didn’t work. Of course.

His hands were upon her body, pulling the dress down further, revealing her hairless body inch by inch. Back at home she found it a blessing that her body had been more elf than human and that no hair had encased her arms, legs, or womanly area. Now she felt more exposed than ever with the dress being her last form of modesty. When she was completely revealed he leant forward and told her something that was worse than a strike to her face.

“Slave?!” she exclaimed. “I… I never agreed to being your s-slave!”

Oh gods! She had been wrong. He hadn’t meant to simply torture her. He was planning on keeping her and using her body over and over again. She attempted to wriggle away. The guard was heating the brand for her and their was a twisted look on his face as he turned it in the coals of the fireplace. She whimpered pathetically.

“Wait! Can’t we talk about this like civilized persons? I am happy that… ugh… that elven and half elven women are your favorite but I am not a common animal. I am sure a more pleasurable conclusion can be drawn up for the both of us.”

Re: The Warlod ((Methos and Vivid))

The warlord’s lips formed a smirk as he noted “Ah but this is what you asked for girl.” He idly noted “You didn’t want to die and requested that I take your body not your life.” He rather matter of factly stated “Now your body is mine.” A laugh parted his lips as he remarked “You got precisely what you bargained for. Of course I could always kill you.” He smirked as he noted “But I doubt you desire that option.”

He leaned in towards her as his fingers would close around locks of her hair. He tugged upon them and seemed to toy with strands of her silken hair as he responded “Talk like civilized people? As I recall I am the brute whom is killing your people by the hundred.” He lofted a brow to her as he inquired “And how should things reach a more pleasurable conclusion? You will do whatever I want or you will suffer in ways you’ve never even imagined.” He smirked “I should think you would find yourself sufficiently motivated.”

A large hand would press to the bared globes of her chest. He took one mount into his grasp and his fingers would tighten about it, squeezing rather firmly. Dark eyes strayed along that lithe hairless body. His fingers casually kneaded her breast as he regarded her as he smiled. “And I think your smart enough little half elf that you’ve figured out already that the last thing you want to do is make me angry.” The statement had a pleasant tone to it, yet it still seemed to have an underlying menace to it.

He glanced across the room and remarked “Check the brand.” The wrought iron pole with its distinctive wolf and lightening bolt pattern was raised and now glowed an angry red. Hence he nodded evidently satisfied that it was ready. Thereafter he casually pushed Magdala across the arm of his throne. His brutish strength bending her over it before a leather cord was pulled from his belt and he’d bind her hands to the leg of the throne.

“Now you should try to stay very still. It hurts less that way.” He informed her, although it was doubtful it would hurt any less but perhaps it would be easier to ensure that the mark was properly affixed and thus take a slightly shorter period of time. The brand as brought to him and he took the glowing iron in his hand, thereafter the heated metal was directed towards the soft flesh of her body.

The heat would precede the feel of the metal actually touching her body. But in a moment a searing pain would be felt upon the right cheek of her ass as the brand pressed into her flesh. A sickening sizzle was heard as it burned into her skin and the flesh beneath, the smell of cooking flesh would also waft to her nostrils. Pain would be added to humiliation as tied to the despot’s throne she was branded like common chattel.

Re: The Warlod ((Methos and Vivid))

Motivated? To do what? Rot away in this place until he got bored of her and handed him over to his men. This was not what she wanted at all! Tears formed in her eyes again as he played with her hair. What was cruel act of faux kindness. He was simply toying with her and reveling in her reactions. Roughly his hand came out to grab at the firm and round orbs of her breast. She gave a small cry and made a motion to push him away, but, upon hearing his words knew that she did not want to make him sore with her. The tone of his voice terrified her.

Not as much as the sight of that brand. It glowed a truly evil red color, as if to taunt her with its ferocity. Even before it was moved over she began to squirm and she fought helplessly against her captor as he tied her to the arm of the chair, binding her to leg. Her pert bottom was perfectly exposed.

“No!” She begged desperately. Her voice was so loud she was nearly screaming. “Please don’t! Please don’t burn my flesh! Please… please…”

Her pleads went unheard. The branding iron came dangerously close to her skin, she could feel the heat radiate off of it. In the next second searing white hot agony was pulsing from her left cheek. She couldn’t help but squirm uncontrollably, trying to get away from it. She kicked her legs, arched her back, and screamed the entire time the metal was searing a symbol onto her body. The smell made her sick.

The initial pain finally subsided and she slumped against the chair, sobbing like a child. Her body convulsed. It was still tender and she could feel her skin still burning slightly as it cooled down. She couldn’t fight the humiliation that she felt. Not only had he striped her and marked her like his sow, but he did it in front a lowly guard.

Tears continued to stream down her face. She was afraid of what he was going to do with her body in such a position. She was completely helpless and it made her agony much worse. Surely he wouldn’t take her virginity just after giving her such a brutal mark.

“E-enough,” she whined. “No more. Please, no more!”

Re: The Warlod ((Methos and Vivid))

Naturally the warlord had heard her begging for him not the brand her. He’d heard every word of it and seen her squirming as well. He rather simply couldn’t have cared less. Her desires and protests were essentially irrelevant. He had decided what would transpire and she simply would deal with the consequences. Unfortunately that would leave a princess in a somewhat novel position, although he saw her not as a princess but a newly acquired slave girl.

As he held the glowing metal to the flesh of her ass he watched her writhe. Not to mention that her piercing screams of pain filled his ears. He rather wondered that she hadn’t lost her voice from such intense screaming. Yet it continued until he was satisfied that his mark was properly seared into her flesh. Only then did he remove the brand from its contact with her.

The girl seemed to interrupt her balling only to whine that she’d endured enough. An irritated look was directed at her, suggesting that having said anything of that nature had most definitely been a presumptuous mistake. His deep voice responded with a growl “I decide what happens to my possessions.” He smirked “I decide when you’ve had enough.”

As though to emphasis the point a large hand was brought to bear upon the cheek of her ass. Its broad surface raised and then brought to slap down against where the brand had been placed, spanking that raw flesh to deliver a rather predictable measure of agony. Having done so he informed her “You now exist to serve. My whim is your command. My pleasure your only purpose and goal. You are nothing but a slave. You are mine.”

Undoubtedly she could have endured a lecture even if a rather pointed one on her new placement in the scheme of things. But perhaps more ominously his hand slid down to undo his belt. He stepped from her side to stand behind her. Her bent over body before him as slowly those leather britches were pressed downwards and the thickened form of his cock would protrude towards her.

Perhaps she’d figure out what was about to happen after he stepped behind her. Although, the touch of the head of that long, thick cock would certainly confirm her fears. Unfortunately for that slight elf, his body was entirely proportionate and a human of his size was not meant to couple with the slender form of even a half elf. Her fears for her virginity had been right, although perhaps not exactly in the way she’d foreseen. For it wasn’t against the soft lips of her sex that the tip of his cock pressed but the tight puckered form of her asshole.

Forcefully that broad head was slowly shoved into that small opening. Spittle being spat into it as a crude lubricant to allow him to press inside. He’d work that thickened cock inside her anus. He pushed deeper inside her, forcing her body to strain and all but be split apart as he pushed within. Roughly his hips pressed against her, his body smacking into the raw branded flesh of her ass cheek. He claimed her virginity all right, but if she’d thought he couldn’t be any more horrible it simply proved the deficit of her imagination.

Re: The Warlod ((Methos and Vivid))

He called her a possession. In her entire life she had never felt so low. Her being was chalked up to playing the sexual doll for some barbarian. A helplessness washed over her. What could she do now? Nothing. He had her tied. Her sex was fully exposed to him. All she could do was plan a way to escape his clutches after he tired of using her for that evening.

His hand came brutally down on the newly seared skin. A red streak of pain obscured her vision as it came down without mercy. She screamed and arched her back, brushing her nipples against the soft surface of the fur. Those rose at the tender action and a shiver of slight pleasure went through her. Quickly she tried to concentrate on that instead of the sting that his spanking caused. He began to inform her of her duties of his slave. All she was around for was to make sure he was sexually satisfied. It repulsed her and that feeling of helplessness intensified.

Indeed she had figured out what he was going to do. She shut her eyes tightly and prepare for his onslaught on her womanhood. But she was shocked when the cock didn’t press against her vagina but the tight bud of her anus. She began to thrash her body around, trying to get away from it. But of course she couldn’t as soon the large knob was pushed inside of her, the spittle doing nothing to aide with the agony of it.

“Stop!” she screamed. “T-that hurts! Please!”

But he didn’t stop. The more he shoved into her, the more she felt like she was going to be split down the middle. He was tearing her body apart with his manhood. Her hands desperately twisted as she tried to undo the binds. If she was able to crawl away, that pain would stop! His body slammed against hers, sending searing pain through the freshly branded ass cheek.

She cried and sobbed some more with him inside of her. Her cheeks burnt once more with shame. It was thoroughly disgusting to have that hole of hers taken. Waste came out of there! She whimpered pathetically. “Bastard,” she whispered. Magdala prayed that he didn’t hear her.

Re: The Warlod ((Methos and Vivid))

If the princess didn’t like his declaration and statements with respect to her being a slave now, then she was less likely to like the realization that every last work he’d said was now absolutely true. Nor was she likely to enjoy the ‘tender mercy’ he was likely to show insolence and disobedience to that new reality. His hand striking freshly branded flesh was merely a taste of the severity of discipline that would brook little opposition.

The shock that accompanied his prick pressing into her ass only seemed to amuse the warlord. The barbarian ignored her screamed demands that he stop, indeed her vocal opposition to the action simply caused him to thrust his manhood deeper within her. She’d feel that pulsing rod stretching apart that taunt anal passage and pressed deeper and further within her ass. Her body being force to stretch and strain to accommodate him, as tender and delicate inner flesh was agitated by that cock ramming within her.

His hips bucked into her. A rather steady rhythm of thrusts were leveled into that tight asshole, and his body rammed itself against the raw flesh of her cheek. He smacked into her audibly with each entry within her. He claimed her body and sought his pleasure in the delicious friction that entrance offered to him. His cock was hard, thick and throbbing as he seemed to enjoy her abject misery. He evidently heard her call him a bastard and he simply growled “Oh don’t you worry about bastards you’ll have them in your belly soon enough.”

Undoubtedly that was a prospect to cheer her as he indicated that broodmare could well accompany, play thing and punching bag in her list of duties. Although it did at least imply not fucking her in the ass some of the time. But for the moment those soft cheeks continued to be parted as he thrust into that tight brown eye. The tension and resistance of that soft gripping passage was causing pleasure to rush through his body in jolts even as each thrust within her caused agony to race through her. Each deep thrust into that sweet ass brought her closer to having that anus dripping with his semen.

Re: The Warlod ((Methos and Vivid))

His steady and hard pumping was brutal. The more he move, the more she could feel her insides being torn and ripped. Each smack against that new mark caused even more pain to go through her. The ability to fight back lessened the more he moved inside of her and was replaced by agony. A groan of pain came from her as her body fell limp from the bursts of extreme sensation of pain. The only thing to dull her demise was the friction against her nipples. Again she tried to think of that and nothing but that, but that didn’t work.

Blood prickled from the pucker itself, the tight indentions splitting without mercy. The red liquid trickled down her leg. It was hot and a mockery of her virginal blood. She cried out. As he went deeper and deeper. Her eyes widened as he began to poke at a different opening inside of her, where he met resistance. His movements made it yield more and more, promising more agony with each hit.

“You’re too big!” she screamed. “You’re tearing my body apart!” It did feel like she would die from this brutal invasion of her anus.

Though she was instantly silenced when he told her not to worry about bastards. He expected her to bare his children?! The thought disgusted her. Hopefully he became bored with using her before too long. Though, part of her was relieved that he wasn’t going to be doing that to her rear all of the time.

“Oh, gods, no…” she said as she hung her head. “I don’t want to have your children.” Having his children would bind her to him completely and fully. It was like marriage, only much much worse. If he were to show up to the castle with a pregnant princess on his arm, all he would have to do was kill her father to lawfully claim the throne.

All she wanted was for this to be over. She returned to her bitter weeping as he continued his assault.

Re: The Warlod ((Methos and Vivid))

The warlord smirked as he casually commented “I imagine that this isn’t how you imagined this trip going.” Droll fellow for a barbarian wasn’t he? His hand were grasping hold of her hips now as he rather forcefully pumped his cock inside of her. He stabbed his prick deep and firmly within her with each entry now. Her groans of pain were being met with the quickening of his breath. The trickle of blood that began to slicken her ass if nothing else mercifully eased his entrance into her.

He could feel that tight little ass being torn up within her. Each determined roll of his hips would rend the flesh within her as it was bludgeoned by that massive erection that her virginal form was ill prepared to accommodate. As she cried out that he was too big, he offered no real statement to disagree. After all that was something of the point of this exercise. That taunt channel would hug and strain against his cock as he roughly and punitively fucked it.

That quickened and heightened breath would soon encourage a flurry of thrusts on his part. His hips moved swiftly and repeatedly as he sought to sate his lusts now. A vehement thrust deep into her squirming and suffering form would arouse a groan from him and mercifully his seed would gush into her. Into that bleeding, battered and rent ass the sticky salty fluids of his semen erupted. Hot, thick strands shot forth from the eye of his cock and flooded that sore flesh. His load pumped into her as his body would slow, his essence mingling with her blood inside her.

Pleasure would course through him as he received that sweet release. After the last of his seed had trickled into her, he’d slowly withdraw himself from her ass. He wiped his cock off on her ass cheek and with a satisfied smile gracing his lips he finally answered her comment about not wanting to have his children. “You belong to me. Its not like you have a choice.”

With that said he tucked his prick back into his pants an did them up once more. But with that said he turned towards the exit of the room and several steps later disappeared from sight. Thus with a guard posted on the door he seemed content to leave his new toy bound to his throne, bleeding, raw and dripping with his semen.

Magdala cried. That was all she could do. Every thrust brought more agony to her form. The pain started to spread. Down her legs and up her back she could feel the horrible sensation spread. He was making her completely immobile and she hated him for it. She hated him with every part of her being. There was nothing more she wanted to do than take him and tear him apart and make him feel the same thing she was feeling at that moment.

Then, beyond anything she could imagine, he caused more pain than before. His trusts became harder and faster. It elicited a high pitch scream and made her arch her back once more, causing him to be able to go even deeper. It stretched her arms out and pulled a muscle between her shoulder blades.

Finally, finally he bucked into her for the last time. She felt his flesh throb within. The warm cum plastered the inside of her, the saltiness of it stinging her. He rested for what seemed like an eternity as every last drop was leeched from his body. With an aching slowness, he pulled from her, a slight popping noise coming from when his head was pulled from her. A sickness settled inside of her as he wiped himself off on the brand. His words stung her emotionally and she felt a little more than an object.

At first she thought he was going to come back and unbind her from the chair. Patiently she waited for a half an hour, feeling her nerves on fire and her tight bud close very slowly. She came to realization that he wasn’t coming back anytime soon and she was to be left there. Her muscles were becoming stiff in that position. She screamed for him to come back, she screamed for someone to help it, she just screamed until her throat became hoarse and she was unable to do so.

The night had been awful. Blood trickled down her body and the cum caked on her leg. Her hands were starting to lose circulation and they became painful. Despite the fur she became aware of the hardness of the wood beneath it and the material pressed without mercy against her stomach and bladder. Finally she managed to pass out from sheer exhaustion and the need to not feel the physical pain or the mental chitter that played over and over again in her mind.

After he’d elicited each rather piercing scream from her, he’d simply left. The princess had been left bound to his throne to suffer as her blood and his seed would slowly begin to dry upon her body, and the brand would simply throb with a dull ache. Undoubtedly being left bent across the throne had left her stiff and sore all on its own, the position entirely uncomfortable. But for all her screams and cries for some relief from where she was bound none was forthcoming.

The warlord had left her there until the morning. Only then did his towering form reappear and his hand casually come to the girl’s shoulder and idly shove her. The barbarian shook her to rouse her from what pitiful slumber she may have managed. He towered over her and that same smirk would appear to linger upon his features. His dark eyes regarded her as then and only then did he bother to untie her.

He glanced down at her and stated simply “Get up.” Thereafter a a bucket of water was brought in by a servant of some sort and sat down beside her. The warlord casually sprawled onto his throne and idly gestured to the bucket as he noted. “Clean yourself off slave.” He yawned slightly as he idly let his eyes trace over her. If he had any concern for her well being it wasn’t entirely evident. The barbarian simply issued his command and evidently expected it to be obeyed.

He slouched on the throne and thereafter seem to recall that he had some other matter to deal with in respect to her. As though having forgotten the matter he produced half a loaf of bread from a pouch and tossed it down onto the ground in front of her. Thereafter stating rather simply “eat.” The warlord was apparently not one for words in the morning.

Magdala did not want to get up. She did not want to ever wake up again. Not to the world that awaited her. Rudely her shoulder was pushed and she was brought out of the dreamless sleep that had completely encircled her. Pain. She awoke to pain and discomfort. Everyone of her muscles were sore, being kept in that position. The brand was pulsating still with that dull pain. Moving her legs was nearly impossible. She stretched them out and she groaned.

“Oh gods,” she muttered. “This is real.”

He leant over her and she tensed. The beautiful princess was sure that he was going to take her ass again. Tears actually sprung to her eyes but instead she was greeted with her ties being undone. She let out a cry as the blood rushed back to her hands. The pins and needles feeling was so intense. Gratefully she flexed them, rubbed her hands against each other.

When he commanded her to stand, she knew it would be best to do so. Her legs gave out on her a couple times, shaking with having to support her weight. Her poor anus hurt more while standing and her brand throbbed even worse. This felt like a different dimension. Someone, somewhere was back at her home completely and utterly shocked and relieved that no one was raping her.

As soon as she saw the water she sighed with relief. Turning from him so he didn’t see her body fully, she began to scrub at her body. Harder and harder she scrubbed at her flesh. Tears frantically fell down her cheeks and she sobbed. She nearly scrubbed her skin off but it didn’t not stop her from feeling dirty. Finally she just gave up.

The bread on the floor was instantly snatched up. Her stomach was growling and Madgala knew better that he wasn’t going to cater to her needs for something a little more substantial. She took a bite and her nose scrintched up but she continued to scarf it down. No matter how simple it was and bland, she needed to swallow it.

“Will I be given clothes?” she asked innocently after finishing her bread. She had not noticed the tone in his voice any different and she expected him to speak in simple one worded grunts. “I do not wish to be naked any more.”

An amused smile graced his lips as he heard her groan and then apparently come to the unfortunate realization that what had befallen her was indeed real as opposed to some unfortunate nightmare. The pain that undoubtedly now burned upon and within her ass both from his use of her body and his branding of it would see to that. His eyes roamed over her and her rather abjectly miserable state pleased and even aroused him somewhat. The imperious princess whom had ordered him to take his army and turn it around and leave now quivered and groaned rather helplessly before him, her body, bruised, burned, bloodied and branded through his doing.

“If you had hoped I was simply some horrible imagination that you had conjured while you slept - I assure you that is most definitely not the case.” He casually let his hand pat the curve of her ass, taping against it before his fingers would tighten upon it and squeezed into her. “You’re little lesson in how easily you and your country are conquerored and invaded I assure you was most definitely real. After all how could I forget hearing your sweet screams as I felt your ass tearing and bleeding around me?”

He let the girl begin to scrub herself as she sought to clean herself not only of the blood and semen present upon her but likely more metaphorically as well. “And you are delightfully soft. I do enjoy that in women. But ill for you is the fact your land and people are much the same. Softness is no virtue in a country, it makes it like you easily seized, claimed and ruled over. Any land that is to last needs men like myself, those that are hard, cruel and dangerous. Otherwise they exist as no more than prey for those that do.”

The warlord saw her rather ravenous tearing into the bread that he’d provided her with. Injury did tend to cause one a terrible hunger. It was hardly fare for a princess, or even a well liked slave. But it was what he gave her and she wasn’t in much position to complain about that. He smirked as the slave girl stated that she didn’t wish to be naked any more. “Ah but I wish you to be naked. Hence you shall be.”

The warlord idly noted “When I decide you should have clothes, you will have clothes. Until then you shall have none. You exist at my pleasure and for it. What you want girl doesn‘t make a lick of difference in what shall happen to you. You‘re more the fool if you didn‘t learn that yesterday.”

His hands on her body made her wince and nearly snarl. She didn’t want her hands anywhere near her flesh! She didn’t want to feel the rough hands pressed against the aching flesh of her newly acquired mark. A mark that claimed her as his. A mark she wished she could tear from her flesh. His words before her washing cut her deeper than any knife. He implied that she was weak and she, horridly enough, believed his words. Tears stung her eyes but she didn’t dare shed them. She wasn’t the soft little princess he imagined. She was strong and she would find a way to leave that prison.

When he told her he would not give her clothes, she turned around quickly. Her arms covered her most delicate of parts. Hadn’t he embarrassed her enough by taking her in front of a guard? By making a mockery of the sexual act itself by roughly claiming her poor behind? Pale violet eyes narrowed on his dark orbs. This was no way to treat a princess, even if she now was a slave.

“Master,” she replied. There was a sarcastic and scathing sound to her voice. She didn’t mean it. Magdala was sure that she never would. “I do not wish to be on display for your men. Surely you don’t want your, ah, broodmare to be ogled and potentially raped by your men?”

Of course she had learnt the night before. Who couldn’t have after such a lesson? It was a quick and brutal way to enact his dominance. The princess was perhaps too spoiled to care or maybe did not want to believe that her fate had brought her to this low. Her position was delicate and any word could bring on untold pain and punishment, but she was simply too stubborn for her own good.

She did not want to be naked so she would try and get her way. “I am a little cold, anyway.”

The warlord lofted an eyebrow to her as she suggested he wouldn’t want her on display to his men. “Why wouldn’t I want you displayed to my men? What is wealth and power if it is not displayed so others can see it.” He smirked and idly patted her head as he noted “Let them see what a pretty pet princess I have to play with.” His fingers tapped the collar as he noted “Between this and the brand on your ass they know very well whom owns you. They won’t rape you, as your clearly marked as my property. They won’t take you anymore than they would steal one of my horses.” He chuckled “As for ogling, I see little harm in their looking.”

“Then be glad you aren’t hurt enough that you can feel cold. And be wary that I have the means to rectify that situation should I choose too.” He stated rather evenly. He smirked and noted “The only way I’m going to give you anything more than a bellyful of my semen is if I have reason to be pleased with you girl.” He leaned in towards her as he noted “And I still think you too much a spoiled brat and too little an eager slavegirl.”

His fingers would stroke against her cheek as he noted. “But I trust you shall release your rather foolish delusions of importance. Although if you don’t, I can always give you to a half a dozen of my men and let them all but rape you to death.” He smirked as he noted “I think that would cure you of any lingering notions of importance hmm?” His fingers would lightly tap against her chin as he noted “But I don’t think you’re as stupid as your mouth makes you out to be now are you hmm?”

“If your cold curl up against my legs.” He stated rather levelly as he noted “And lean down and start licking my boots.” The warlord smiled rather darkly as he noted “It shall be a good way for you to start to properly show you’re devotion to your master, slave.” He paused as his eyes seemed to bore into her “I expect you to be most thorough in your efforts.”

His very touch made her want to lash out at him. Desperately she wanted to move her mouth to bite roughly at the fingers that caressed her cheek. There was no lovingness in it. On the contrary. The touch was intended to frighten her and intimidate her. She hated him. She hated how much power he had over her very being. No. She wasn’t an eager slave girl. Gods, Magdala despised what she had become.

Tears welled in her eyes. They were sore and tired and hiding her emotions was going to be next to impossible. How she wanted to just go to bed and forget everything that had happened. The princess was more than an object! She was more than a sexual toy, damn it! But in that world she was simply what he told her what she was.

Sobbing bitterly she fell to her knees and huddled up against his legs. She did not want to lick his boots. The very idea was disgusting. Animals were treated better than this. Yet she knew that she did not have a choice. Being raped brutally by one man was much better than being raped by multiple people. Especially if those people were simply underlings. No. If she was going to service anyone, it was going to be the Warlord.

Still…

With a cry she moved her tongue against his boots. The taste made her shudder but she continued until she was gagging on unpleasant things and she shook her head, reeling back. “I-I-I can’t!” she exclaimed. “Don’t make me, m-m-m-master!” The word came bitterly on her tongue.