Dangels [Quin x heartless]

[Rudolph Quin]

When he saw an opening, he took it. No hesitation and no mercy. Sweat bouncing off his bronze skin like sand fleas jumping to a new host, his muscles filled with tension, thick in his arms as he jabbed high and his blow connected. Leather covered knuckles snapped the other man's head back, the sound of defeat cracking loudly in the snap of bone, giving Dean the satisfaction of his victory even before his opponent's nose poured blood and the black man fell to his knees in the sandy arena. As per the rules of the Womb, the fight was over.

The arena, also called the Womb by those who participated in the ritualized fights, was a large sandstone circle with layers of seats all around, above the walls that enclosed the hollow middle. Underground, the area was lit by windows along the top, letting in slanted pillars of light at ground level up above. This was where the different clans of the Mother engaged in combat, men pitting themselves against one another for the chance to bring new mothers into their midst. All women were mothers once they reached bleeding age, even virgins. Their sacred purpose, their divine power over life, bestowing this blessing upon those few men who were worthy to father the next generation. Mothers were the most valuable resource. More precious than water, which even in the worldwide desert the Earth had become, still fell from the sky and ran in channels and wells beneath the surface of the ground.

As the crowd of onlookers erupted in growled hoots, "Aah-whoo! Aah-whoo!", the mens' deep voices joining to sound like the chugging of a grand machine, Dean celebrated with them, hollering in triumph with muscled arms upraised. He'd taken a few massive hits himself, his bald head gleaming with a gushing wound on his crown where Mason shoved him head first into the stone wall of the arena. Nothing a few stitches and a night's rest wouldn't heal, however, it hadn't been an easy fight. Mason, leader of the Black Sun clan, was very powerful and wealthy, with many mothers and a ton of children. When he'd finished his victory dance, twirling in place and biting his lip as he groped himself through his pants, ending his signature move with a high-pitched hoot, Dean approached the still kneeling black man who held his nose woundedly.

"Won't be pretty," Dean said, flashing a gap-toothed grin at the other clan leader, offering him a friendly hand. "But you'll live."

Mason, who's coal black skin gleamed with sweat, looked up at him with eyes just as dark, the orbs surrounded by an almond of harsh white. "I didn't mean to fall down, but fekking damn son!" the man said with a shake of his head and obviously wounded pride. Still, when he released his nose with a grimace, he nodded and smiled at the other. "Good fight."

"Good fight," Dean agreed, his blue eyes shining as he helped the man to his feet.

The men shook hands amiably, keeping the peace in this sacred place and moving aside to make room for the next contenders and challengers to begin their own ritualized combat, albeit for a mother of lesser value. Dean didn't stay though, leaving Mason to tend to his broken nose with the medicists who were always standing by for the more serious wounds inevitably created within the ring. Walking the halls of the cool caverns, Dean Foster smirked proudly, a swagger to his step as he found his way to the betrothal halls to collect his prize. For the Womb was not only the place for the fights to be held but also contained the reason for the fights at all: the unclaimed mothers.

 

[heartlesskitten]

She leaned back against the headboard, listening to the distant roar of the crowd. It was the final match of the night, the one that would determine who would walk through the door to the sacred flower chamber. Around her were pillows covered with hand woven silks and Cybil picked at one of the threads, tugging at it with spite to ruin the floral images. The symbolism was heavy handed, likening the blossoming girls with the flowers that decorated the chamber. Stuffed animals like rabbits and birds, handmade by the keepers of the maidens to encourage the thoughts of babies and fertility were tossed around the bed. Being a breeding tool was the last thing the young woman wanted, but she had little choice. It was what she was destined for, what had been pounded into their heads, most of them since they were children. Cybil was a more recent addition, taken by force and sold to the Keepers at the Womb. Though she was a few years past her bleeding time, she had been saved for a special occasion because of her beauty.

Cybil stretched her arms, she wore very little, just scraps of expensive fabric to cover her pelvis and breasts. She had seen some of the girls that were led away to be claimed, some were hardly past their first flowering and had hardly any shape at all. She was well blossomed however, some Keepers even complaining she was growing too old to be kept much longer. The girl touched her sandy brown hair, fingering the ends and twirling it around her fingers. It would be a lie to say she was not nervous, it was the thing that all the girls whispered about, some feared it, some looked forward to it. Cybil felt a knot of dread, she was not so well indoctrinated and despite the efforts of the Keepers, she remembered her parents enough that she recalled they loved each other and it had been a choice by both to join and create new life. But that was years ago and many miles away, dozens of suns would rise and set before she could find her way back to the nomads who she had been born to.

See more

Cybil raised her head, suddenly alert when she heard footsteps in the hall. Her body tingled with the nearness of danger, looking up expectantly at the door. It was time and she was not ready. Her pale green eyes were fixed on the crack that widened as the wooden door creaked on its hinges. She saw the figure that filled it and felt her mouth go dry, her heart quickening. The sixteen year old gripped the pillow she had been slowly destroying, twisting it as her fingers tightened their grip.

 

[Rudolph Quin]

The smells in these halls were heady and dainty, smelling like a mixture of burning oils, desert flower seeds and pussy. By the time he arrived to his appointed door, Dean was hard in his trousers, the sweat from his fight drying on his skin, leaving him chilled and throbbing. Opening the door, the muscular man flashed a cocky grin at the young mother waiting on the bed, his eyes licking up her body and taking in her ripened curves. Not quite a woman but just old enough that he could appreciate the width of her hips and see the promise within them. Too many young mothers died from the effort of carrying life within them and many more infants, never making it past their first year in this harsh climate.

See more

"Well aren't you just perfect," he said with a dirty laugh, closing the door behind himself and slipping off his leather gloves. "Definitely worth the head bashing I got!" When he saw her glance at the bruised and bleeding cut on the crown of his bald head, he chuckled dismissively. "Don't worry. You shoulda seen the other guy!"

She really was perfect. Lovely eyes, nice skin of an agreeable shade for exposure to the harsh sun, high cheekbones and a mother's body. She could handle a babe for sure. It was a superficial examination, just to make sure that the Keepers weren't cheating him on his reward. He'd been promised a fertile mother with the high possibility of carrying to term and strong of will, and she certainly had better chances than most.

Smirking softly, Dean gently took the pillow from the young woman's hands, tossing it aside flippantly and commenting, "You don't need that. Trust me, doll. You've got nothing to be ashamed of." Leering at her, he rubbed a calloused hand over her leg, stroking her skin luxuriously while shoving her legs apart and yanking her closer by the pit of her knee. "Will you take my seed into you and bear fruit for me, young mother?" he intoned the sacred words, his fingers petting with deep, grinding strokes at the heat between her legs through the pretty cloth that covered her. Without waiting for her response, Dean kissed her neck with sloppy, hungered bites with his lips and teeth, settling down to suckle a harsh, bruised mark into her skin.

 

[heartlesskitten]

Cybil stared at him, her teeth grinding as he approached. She shifted on the bed, putting her back up against the headboard defensively. Her gaze dropped from the cut on his head to his leering face, her heart jumping wildly in her chest. She did not want this, any of it and despite the fact since she was twelve it had been ingrained into her that this is what she was destined for, she despised it. The girl remembered what it was like to be free, she was not born into this sham of worship, the idolized slaves that served no purpose but what the Keepers and the Masters wanted. When he jerked the pillow out of her hands, her body tensed, the hairs on the back of her neck standing up.

Beyond his nice words she could see the lust in his eyes, the fire in his blood from the fight and the potential of violence that sparked in the blue depths. She was treading on dangerous ground but Cybil found it nearly impossible to give in without a fight. No matter what harm it caused, she had her pride and they would not rob her of everything.

“Nothing to be ashamed of?” she finally spoke as his hands moved over her legs and pulled her close, her fingers gripping the bed. His rough kisses on her neck made her cringe and she shifted her hips to try to get away from his stroking fingers. She felt no arousal, only disgust at his actions. Her head felt light and she found herself speaking without thinking.

“On the contrary, this shames me. I would be ashamed to carry your child, you piece of filth,” she whispered in his ear as he sucked on her neck. “Get off of me!”

The light in her pale green eyes was intense and bordered on madness. She pushed at him, pulling her feet under her and kicking out at his midsection and the powerful thighs. Squirming under his grip, she tried to bite his shoulder, desperate to get the big man away from her.

 

[Rudolph Quin]

Well, then. Maybe not entirely perfect. Most of the unclaimed mothers knew their place in life and understood their role in the Great Cycle. They gladly took the role of goddess, preening in the worship and arousal they inspired. The inexperienced mothers were more apt to be shy and timid but easy to warm up as the men's bodies and expertise awoke the women's brand new arousal. Rarely did a mother, unclaimed or not, ever speak with such foul bitterness as this one did.

Sometimes the Keepers gathered mothers from wandering clanless nomads, capturing them to fill out the genetic stock in their stables. Being unfamiliar with their ways, sometimes the mothers would lash out in fear, either out of ignorance or as a result of previous traumas. No matter. It wasn't something Dean hadn't dealt with before and he wasn't unwilling to conquer this mother and awaken her desire for him. In fact, her resistance meant she had a fortitude of spirit that the others didn't have. She would need it to carry his children to term.

"Such rude words for a mother," Dean chided her, clicking his tongue in disapproval. A grunt left him when her feet bashed against his abs and his upper legs but he sniffed coolly and grabbed her ankles, holding her squirming effortlessly. "You've got an odd idea of shame, little lady! Do you even know who I am? I have won you because I am the best and you are the best. We are a good match and you should be honored for the prowess I have shown in earning you."

Laying it on thick, he dodged the swollen, bacteria filled wound a bite would create and gave her a quick smack across the cheek, at about 3% of his power. "Keep that up. I will gag you, mother," he murmured with a low chuckle, restraining her legs by pressing himself against her and weighing her into the bed with his firm body. "Shh-shh, relax, sweetheart. Trust me, I've got more skills than just bringing men to their knees." Freeing her breasts from the confining cloth that held her, he sighed in awe at the sight of her bared mounds, bending his head low to lick at her nipples. "I bet you've never even had an O before. This will definitely be a learning experience for you! Haha!"

Grinding against her pelvis, letting her feel his arousal through his pants, Dean held her still while he lost himself to the intimacy of mouthing her breasts. Like a babe again, he suckled her tit, his eyes closing heatedly and humming in his throat at the blessed feeling of touching her this way.

 

[heartlesskitten]

See more

She twisted away, turning onto her side to keep him away from the soft vulnerable slit between her legs but he was too strong for her. Cybil whimpered, her face still stinging from the slap, as he moved onto her, pushing her flat against the bed. Her long slender legs spread unwillingly with the weight of his body as she struggled under his grip.

“No,” she said through gritted teeth, “I don’t want this. I don’t want you!”

It was not entirely true, one day she would like to have a baby of her own but not like this. She did not know this man other than he was one of the biggest brutes in the ring. Giving him the allowance to have access to her body and it made her sick. Even if it was what she was taught, she could not help but remember other lessons from her mother. Her real mother, not the Keepers of the Maidens.

His hand yanking the binding cloth from her breasts was calloused and rough, she could hear the rip of the delicate fabric. Her breasts bounced free, surprisingly full for her slender frame, the soft pink of the nipples darkening as he licked and suckled them. Her body reacted and she pressed her lips together, her hands moving to his broad shoulders and she pushed at him.

See more

“Stop it!” she cried, squirming, trying to get away. Cybil was frightened of his dangerous strength but moreso of turning into one of those mindless mothers, women who existed to be fucked and impregnated, their children destined to be taken away once they were of age to be educated in the ways of the clan by the elders, so their mother could be made pregnant again. Certainly they could visit them but the child belonged to the clan, not to the parents.

When he rubbed his hard cock against her, she struggled, wanting to get away from the invasive rod of flesh so eager to tear into her. Pushing his face, her fingers curling to scratch at him, Cybil fought back against not only the man but the whole culture that had taken her. It was not hers and never would be, each night she repeated to herself the names of her family and the places she knew that the nomads had visited. It was a mantra to help her remember who she was and to keep from succumbing to the pretty, well fed and scented prison that the mothers existed in.