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In the Shadow of the Dragon (Corsair and Xana)

Astrid shrugged. “What can I say? My training emphasized survival over honor. Though I still feel a tad guilty…”


Ellistair proved to be clever, moving into to a grapple after she disarmed him. Wrenching her arm and wrist so she dropped her blade as well. A grappling contest would favor him, with his superior strength. Worse still, was the promise and threat in his words, erect against her ass. Damn, she wanted him, but not like this. Not without proving herself first.

Years of training and instinct took over then. Her heel slammed into his foot, hard enough she might have broken it if he weren’t wearing sturdy leather boots. The impact was enough for him to release his grasp on her, enough for her to slip away. She could have gone for her blade, which would have afforded him a chance to retrieve him. Instead, she spun to face him, while he was still reeling from the blow and grabbed him by the shoulders. There was no conscious thought then, just the impulse to end the fight, here and now. The impulse that led her to slam her knee into his groin, and incapacitate him conclusively.

Astrid’s victory was short-lived, as Ellistair gasp of pain penetrated the focus the fight had required. He crumpled to the ground, eyes bulged and hands covering the injured area. With her own gasp, Astrid dropped to her knees at his side. “Holy hells, I really hurt you, didn’t I?”



Hilda winced in sympathy for her brother, crossing her legs, “Well, I suppose it is one way to win.”

Astrid laughed, embarrassed, “Yeah, but it was a bittersweet victory. We certainly couldn’t celebrate our betrothal afterward.”
 
With her own gasp, Astrid dropped to her knees at his side. “Holy hells, I really hurt you, didn’t I?”

“...no...” Ellistar managed, clutching himself and whimpering a little. “...i’ll.. live...”


“Yeah,” Ellistar managed, wincing at the memory. “It would have made it really hard. And, uhm, not in the intended way.” He chuckled at his sister’s expression, a little amused and a little scandalized, then took a bite of his breakfast.

“Is that the end of the story?” Hilda asked.

“Yep,” he replied. “I mean, unless you really want to hear me talk about cold cloths and bruising...”

“Pass,” Hilda assured him. “But... before the wedding night?” She didn’t sound shocked. Just startled. “That, I mean, you...?” She trailed off, unsure where she was going with the question.

“The Mountain really is a different world,” he laughed, setting his urltensils on the plate as servants came to collect them. More servants followed, distributing plates of sweetbreads and pots of jam and honey and butter. Catching Astrid’s expression, he smiled and squeezed her hand. “Last course, I believe. But, getting back to where this started, we really should find you a tutor to help you learn what is expected of a lady of your rank.”

“Stultifying boredom,” Hilda grumbled, taking her sudden burst of irritation out by savagely buttering her bread.

“You’ve managed,” Ellistar pointed out. “You may not like it, but knowing how you should behave makes it possible for you to know how and when you can misbehave.” He grinned. “Maybe you should be Astrid’s tutor.”
 
Hilda scrunched her face as she considered her brother’s offer. “It would be an excuse to get out of the capitol for some time, and away soul-crushing pressure to marry from Father. That is, assuming that I would be accompanying you two as you travel through Landis.”

“Travel through Landis?” Astrid asked, looking up form her piece of toast. She had only just arrived before the wedding, and hadn’t even really settled in, and was already expected to leave again?

“Well yes. Lesson one: you are expected to present yourselves to those who would be your subjects, since you two will ascend the throne, in all likelihood. And you are expected to have a strong grasp of the land if you claim to rule it.” Hilda explained, before biting into buttered toast.

Astrid nodded, “Well, that certainly makes sense. Still, I had hoped to spend time with my new husband. You know, engaging in all that consummation everyone is so curious about.”

Hilda laughed, “Oh, I assure you that no one is interested in interrupting that. In fact, it is something of a point of pride to have a royal heir conceived under one’s roof. I imagine that there is already a wager forming among a few of the houses to that effect.”

It was Astrid’s turn to make a face. Royalty was far less glamorous in reality than it was in her books. Far less actual power and far more scrutiny. “Well, I would welcome your company, Hilda, as well as your tutelage. Are you a strong rider? You could ride one of the mounts I brought from the mountain, as part of my dowry, if you think you could handle it. Verrier’s horses are quite a bit stronger and more willful than normal mounts.”

“And here is lesson two: as a Lady, and future Queen, you will not be saddleback through the countryside. You and I and our ladies in waiting will ride in a carriage.” Hilda explained, face and voice dour. “From this point on, you will be prohibited from doing anything that might endanger a possible pregnancy.”
 
The rest of the breakfast passed in silence, the festive mood slightly spoiled by Hilda’s pronouncement. One of the things that had attracted him to Astrid had been her wild, untamed spirit. Well, her untamed spirit, and her long legs, and her slender figure and ripe breasts, and her startling range of knowledge. But the thought of her, cosseted and constrained by the modes of the court..? It was nearly more than he could bear. He couldn’t imagine how she was taking it.

No, wait. He could. He’d had his balls kicked in for trying to impose a similar expectation once, and he didn’t need that happening to his father. Or, worse yet, his grandfather the king. So he wracked his brains, trying to think of a way out. Glance by sideways, he eyed Duke Nevyn and Aevill. Their marriage had suffered some early straiglns, he remembered faintly. His Duchy was on the borders of Landis, and his peopl’s customs were strange. It had taken Aevill years to adapt and...

Adapt.

A slow smile spread over his face. “Tell me,” he said suddenly. “Isn’t it a tradition of the Drakul that vigorous exercise improves one’s health, and that a strong and healthy woman is more likely to bear sons?” Catching her blank expression of astonishment, he kicked her under the tabl. Not too hard, he hoped. “I mean, I’m certain you told me that’s why swordplay and riding were encouraged among the Ladies of Fearfire, yes?”
 
“Isn’t it a tradition of the Drakul that vigorous exercise improves one’s health, and that a strong and healthy woman is more likely to bear sons?”

What in the hells is he talking about? Astrid wondered, wearing the question on her face. They literally never spoke of anything concerning babies or –Ah! His foot nudged her shin, and it was then she realized he was getting her an out.

“I mean, I’m certain you told me that’s why swordplay and riding were encouraged among the Ladies of Fearfire, yes?”

“Yes! Yes, that is right. Strong, healthy women give birth to strong, healthy children,” Astrid said, nodding vigorously. “Sons, I mean of course. Strong, healthy sons. It’s one of Verrier’s teachings.” Hilda raised an eyebrow, glancing between Ellistair and her, but didn’t otherwise comment.

Finally breakfast ended, and it was a chance to be alone with Ellistair. And while her carnal desires to be intimate with her husband had cooled, she still craved his love and acceptance. Landis’ culture of chivalry loomed hostile over her, and Ellistair was her only refuge against her supposed inferiority. He didn’t believe any of that, and it was a relief.

“Do you think we can convince anyone that I should be allowed to ride or fight, based on the traditions of Fairtheora?” She asked, leaning her head against his chest. He felt so good, which seemed to make it all worse. All she wanted was to lose herself in the buoyant feelings of love and longing for her husband. Instead expectations weighed her down. “I was really looking forward to riding with you. Showing off the mounts I brought from the mountain.”
 
Really, he wasn’t in much of a mood to talk. Leaning back on a settee with Astrid curled up against him, all he wanted to do was snuggle with his new wife and comfortably doze off his sleepless night and heavy meal. And then slowly peel her out of her gown and work on exhausting the both of them again. Preferably for hours. The thought made his cock twitch, suggesting that maybe he wasn’t all that tired.

But Astrid was asking good questions. Important questions. And she deserved answers. “I don’t know,” he said, stifling a yawn. “It’ll really depend on who we can talk to. His Majesty my grandfather will probably be amenable to the idea. He was the one that approved my asking for your hand.” He tightened his grip a little, resting his cheek on her hair. “A lovely hand attached to an extremely desirable person, I might add.”

Kissing her head, he continued. “And besides, you’re a lot like Hilda and Hilda is his favorite granddaughter. So you have that advantage, I think. But my father is extremely conservative - he barely tolerated Hilda’s weapon training, and bitterly opposed it marriage. He wanted to marry me to Lady Sofia Elessa, Duke Guerno’s only daughter from his third marriage.” A grimace. “She’s a year younger than you, but she’s also my aunt - a fact that seemed less important to him than ensuring that our family has clear title to the Elessia holdings if Duke Guerno sires no sons.”
 
“Your Aunt?” Astrid laughed, the idea so ludicrous she half wondered if her husband were teasing her. Surely titles and inheritance weren’t so important as that? “No wonder you were willing to risk Verrier’s wrath to seek my hand.” She turned to place a peck along his jaw, relishing his scent, and how he still smelled of her.

“Lady Sofia,” Astrid repeated, searching her memories of the reception, and the countless people she’d been introduced to that evening. Still, she couldn’t summon the girl’s face. “She wasn’t at the wedding, was she? I recall your Grandfather attended by himself. Makes sense, I suppose.” She snuggled against her husband’s chest, eyelids growing heavy. And he felt so good, warm and inviting, with strong arms wrapped around her body. “I wouldn’t want to attend the wedding of the man who snubbed me in favor of another woman.

Yawning wide, Astrid tried to continue, “But we should talk to your grandfather anyways. The king I mean. Lay out our argument and… convince him…” Astrid told herself she was just going to close her eyes for a moment, until that moment expanded into a comfortable nothingness.



“You want to ride a horse, as you two complete your tour of countryside?” King Giles asked, wearing an amused, if baffled smile. “But riding in the carriage is much safer for a woman in your…well, for a woman.”

“It is the custom in Fairtheora that women ride and hunt and fight alongside our men. Strong women birth strong sons,” Astrid claimed, sounding more confident than this morning. The king laughed, but his queen raised an eyebrow at him.

“Concerned about birthing healthy sons, are you now?” Giles asked, prodding her argument. Astrid brushed back a few strands of hair behind her ear.

“It is my duty now, isn’t? To bear Ellistair’s children, who might one day sit on the throne,” she asserted, feeling small as she said it. Hearing Hilda’s cheerless words in her mind. It's the duty of women to bear children. They say we're not, not suited for anything else. But she forced herself to remember Nevyn’s suggestion. Knowing the rules and expectations allowed you to use those rules and expectations to your advantage. She didn’t have to accept Landis’ beliefs to use them to benefit herself.

“She’s young still, and adjusting to life here in Landis. It is much different than on the Mountain, isn’t it?” Velka asked, her voice warm and gentle. Astrid just nodded. “There is no harm in humoring this request. If you do manage to have a healthy son or two, the rest of Landis might just have to stop and take notice of the wisdom of Mount Fearfire.”

“Perhaps,” Giles allowed, “And while we honor the customs you bring from the mountain with you, we also ask that you honor our customs as well. Respect for our culture will go a long way when you sit upon the throne. So, while you are traveling, I want you to spend half your time in the carriage. It’s not just for your safety. It will be good to you to talk with your ladies in waiting, and learn about your responsibilities and expectation from them. Perhaps we can even get you a tutor, who can teach you what is expect of a Lady in your position.”

“I had hoped Hilda could tutor me in etiquette,” Astrid offered, “She already agreed if it pleases your majesty.”

Giles laughed again. “Hilda, tutor you in etiquette? Well, it’s an interesting choice.” Shaking his head, he laughed some more, “I’ll allow it, for now, but once you’ve learned the basics from her, I think we will need to get you a proper tutor.”
 
Giles laughed again. “Hilda, tutor you in etiquette? Well, it’s an interesting choice.”

"Think of it as an opportunity to improve Hilda's disposition as well," Ellistar added in. "You've always said that some of the best lessons come from doing a thing, after all. And she'll need to brush up on etiquette in order to teach it."

Shaking his head, King Giles laughed some more, “I’ll allow it, for now, but once you’ve learned the basics from her, I think we will need to get you a proper tutor.”

"Thank you, sire," Ellistar replied, bowing.

"Now, tell me about your plans," the King continued. "It is custom, after all, to visit our bannermen after a royal wedding. Give the people an opportunity to see the new future queen, and the nobles a chance to meet you in person."

"Of course." Ellistar made a show of squaring his shoulders. "I'd thought of travelling East to Euthoria first, then taking a ship along the coast to Streganna. From there we'd make a grand circle - Greenhill to Archdale and then to Candor, before returning home."

"A good plan," the King replied, smiling. "Finalize your itinerary and send riders out with letters, and then make your plans. See the Seneschal if there is anything you need." He rose, then paused. "And be certain to take adequate guards. You are my grandson, and second in line to the throne."

"Of course," Ellistar said again, bowing and waiting for the king and queen to leave. Once they did, he took his wife's hand. "But I think that can wait until tomorrow, at least. For now, we have the afternoon to ourselves." He smiled. "Would you like to go for a ride? Slip away from the castle for a bit, and see the countryside without all the formalities?"
 
Astrid beamed at her husband’s suggestion “Absolutely! Oh I am so excited to finally show you the horses I brought from the mountain.” There was hardly time for a proper kiss before she bounded away, finding excitement in her new home again, instead of apprehension.

It took awhile to change into proper riding clothes, given how she was still learning to manage the numerous layer’s that Landis’ fashion required. Oh, but it felt so good just to wear a pair of pants. Like freedom. And the fact they fit close to her skin, flaunting her long, lean legs should please her new husband, shouldn’t it? So she paired it with a low cut corset top with long, flowing sleeves, both in black.

They’d need a bit more for their ride. So, she had a bundle of food prepared to bring along. Finger foods, mostly, crackers and fruits, hard cheeses and dried meat. A late lunch stretched over a blanket as the sunset. The sort of romantic scene in many of her favorite books.

And speaking of books, Astrid decided to pack one with her, Songs of the Onyx Queen. Picnic and poetry out in the countryside with her beloved? That was the fantasy of romance and courtship that dominated her stories, not all this concern over producing an heir, or rigid standards of behavior.

With her bag packed, Astrid made for the stables, to meet Ellistair. When she arrived, the stablehand was squawking. He caught sight of her, and his face turned red. “Sorry Princess, these horses you brought with you are not fit to ride today.”

“Is that so? They were fine to ride just a week back.” Astrid asked, coming closer to inspect the problem.

“Well, this one just tried to bite my hand off,” he explained, trying to keep Astrid a fair distance back.

Ignoring his warning, she pushed him aside. “Well, what have you been feeding them?” The horse regarded her with caution, braying.

“Oates, of course, and the occasional apple or carrot. I’ve been tending to the horses in Landisford for well over decade.”

“And I am sure you do fine job of it, but these horses are from Fairtheora. And they require meat.” Reaching into her pack, she pulled a piece of jerky out. The horse whinnied, growing excited by the food, but Astrid held it out of reach as she gave a firm order. Only once the horse was calm did she present the food. “See what I mean? Poor guy was just a little hungry. Here, help me get this one saddled, and I will go over their diets again.”
 
"Meat?" Ellistar questioned, entering the stable. Then he blinked in surprise as Astrid fed dried beef to her steed. "Wait... they eat meat?"

"It's not natural!" the stablehand protested. "Not one bit!"

"They're horses raised in the shadow of the Dragon," Ellistar pointed out reasonably, stroking the horse's nose and examining her teeth. "Things are a little different there, for which I am profoundly grateful." The teeth, he discovered, weren't radically different from those of ordinary horses. The incisors were sharper, though, and there were elongated canines. When the animal closed her mouth, he could just see them peeking out. "Do they eat meat exclusively, or..."

"No," Haldebar declared from the entrance. "We usually feed them oats and barley mixed with blood, about a pint of blood to a bushel. I'd recommend fifteen to twenty pounds of raw meat about once a week for optimum health, though. The Dragon just turns them out to hunt, from time to time, but I suspect that won't be as welcome around here."

"To... to hunt?" the stablehand stammered.

Haldebar nodded, strolling casually towards the animal. Helga followed followed behind, a bored expression on her face that brightened into a smile as she saw her daughter. "Aye," the old man replied. "He believed it weeded out the weakest. And look at you, girl," he continued, speaking to Astrid. "Already upsetting the apple cart." He grinned. "Good on you."

Helga embraced Ellistar, and then Astrid. "We just wanted to catch you before we had to leave," she said, kissing her daughter on the forehead. "Lord Verrier sent a messenger, and your father has to return. At once."

"Aye," Haldebar nodded, looking grave. "He's in a fury, no doubt about it. And someone has to mind Radarc Realtha while he's dealing with whatever it is." Then he grinned, and embraced his daughter. "You be sure to come and visit, though. Bring my grandchild when you do." Pausing, he glanced at Ellistar. "I suppose he's welcome, as well."

Helga jabbed him in the ribs, almost playfully. "Be nice," she scolded.
 
Astrid hugged her parents back tight, tighter than expected, when they told her they were leaving. Of course, she knew they’d leave, and probably even soon, but today? The day after her wedding? While she was still figuring out her new home and her new expectations? What if she couldn’t cut it here, with the demands and humiliation?

No, a foolish thought. Her father had survived hundreds of years as seneschal to Verrier, far from his own home. Clearly it was in her blood to survive, regardless of how far from home she’d come. Not just survive, but thrive.

“Try not to miss me too much,” she teased, hiding her own apprehension and grief in laughter. Turning, she smiled at Ellistair, reminding herself what she was gaining in leaving her childhood home. “Come on, I wanna see if you can keep up with me!” she goaded, dragging him towards a horse.

Bathed in the golds of late afternoon, the lands surrounding Landisford were a vision of verdant prosperity. Trees flew past as the horses galloped along the dirt roads. Astrid had spent hours as a child watching Verrier take flight, gliding along air currents and floating on thermals, and she was convinced this was the closest she’d ever come to flying. Wind in her hair and drifting over the ground, it was exhilarating, racing her own pounding heart.

Impressively, Ellistair almost managed to keep up. Almost. It had taken several commands and trots in a circle to get the steed to obey him. Time Astrid spent kicking up dust as she urged the horse to back to it’s primal memories of speed.

Plains spread out before them, and the castle was just a shadow on the horizon. Finally, Astrid eased her mount to a cantor, taking in the scenery. “You know this country, husband,” she called back, turning to meet his gaze, “Show me where we might take a romantic meal and rest out here.”
 
The flesh-eating hordes of Fearfire were like nothing Ellistar had ridden before - wild and temperamental and faster than he would have believed possible. It took all his skill as a rider to stay motivated nt d at first, and effort beyond that to make them respond to his commands. But he persevered, driven by the twin desires to show off for his wife and to not be trampled and eaten. Finally, when his steed obeyed, he rode out through the Sunrise Gate of Landisford, laughIng and joined by in as Astrid snapped her reins and sent her steed galloping. The lands flashed by, wind buffeting his body and tugging at his clothing as the horse ran on and on without tiring until Astrid slowed to a canter. “You know this country, husband,” she called. “Show me where we might tak a romantic meal and rest out here.”

He considered that. “I know a place,” he finally said. “Just another mile or so ahead.”

Nudging his steed with his heels, he lead the way along the trail they’d been following and then turning off into the woods as a new trail diverged. “This is the Royal Forest, although they’re not quite so grand as all that. My father brought me out to hunt, more than once. At the time I wasn’t thinking if romantic, but it should serve. And nobody I know of is he bring right now.”

The trees made a canopy over head, softening the light and lending an ethereal greenish hue to everything beneath them. A soft breeze played between the trunks, stirring the leaves and cooling the air. Another mile passed, and then two. Finally, they emerged into a clearing dominated by a compact little hut.
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He grinned. “Will this do?”
 
“I love it,” Astrid affirmed, squeezing her hands together. She rode up beside him, and reached over to place a kiss on his cheek, “I imagine I can get as loud as I want, out here.”

Despite its modest appearance, the interior was quite comfortably furnished. Centered around the hearth, several chairs, fashioned with the furs and antlers of wild game, faced towards the fireplace and lined a long dining table. Before the hearth was a massive bear skin rug with thick black fur. Astrid set the pack of food on the table, “Let’s go cut some wood for the fire.”

Ellistair sense of chivalry wouldn’t allow her to chop the wood, so she busied herself with gathering the logs and then carrying it inside once he chopped it. Astrid didn’t complain and was rewarded when her husband pulled off his shirt halfway through, and sweat glistened on his skin and glowed in the low light of the setting sun. Astrid spent more than a few moments transfixed by the rippling of the muscles in his shoulders and back as he heaved the axe into the air.

“That’s probably enough,” Astrid called, not really wanting him to stop, and yet also wanting to run her hands over his sweat-slick skin. “I am sure you must be hungry after all that.” I know I am. Taking his hand, she led him inside on the bearskin rug before the fireplace. She urged him to sit, and handed him some food, so he could start eating while she lit the fireplace. Red light filled the lodge, crackling as the fire devoured the logs. Astrid kneeled behind her Ellistair, rubbing his shoulders while he ate. Sure, she wanted to soothe him, but she also wanted to touch him, feel his firm muscles under her fingertips.

“You looked so good out there, chopping wood like that,” Astrid murmured, lips soft on her ear. Her fingers digging into tense muscles, enjoying the act of massaging him. Possibly more than he was enjoying her massage. “It’s good to know I didn’t just marry some silly pampered prince.”
 
Ellistar rolled his shoulders, relaxing back into his bride as she massaged his back. “I suspect the Dragon would have devoured me out of hand, if I were a ‘silly pampered prince’,” he replied with a smile. “And if he’d spared me, I rather suspect that kick you delivered me would have been much harder and much more deliberate.” He shook his head, then bowed it so Astrud could work on his neck. “We’re only a few generations removed from the rebellion that put my great-grandfather in power. Hardly enough time to get silly or pampered.”

Still smiling, he caught her hand and drew it to his lips. The way it made her lean against him, her breasts soft against his bare back, was a pleasant bonus. “Not that I mind a little pampering once in a while, mind you. I just try not to demand it as my due for simply existing.” Turning her hand in his, he kissed her wrist. “Now,” he added, nipping lightly at her skin, “had you called me privileged and overconfident instead, I would have been forced to admit the justice of your accusation.” Lips and teeth softly worked up her palm and along one finger. “I am, after all, accustomed to getting exactly What I want.”

Turning his shoulders, he pulled her arm across his body and caught her back as she overbalanced and fell across his lap. He rose up on his knees, lowering her to the bearskin rug as he came down over her, pinned by her to the floor with his weight. “For instance,” he whispered, feeling her breath hot on his lips. “What I want right now,” he added, gently gripping her throat with one hand, “is you.” His kiss was slow and forceful, an insistent demand that she surrender to him as he explored her mouth. “You,” he repeated,voice husky, “naked and screaming my name as take my pleasure in you.”
 
Astrid gasped as Ellistair pulled her down, disorientation rushing blood to her head until she was beneath him. His playful kissing on her hand had lulled her into a complacency, allowing her to think she was going set the pace for the evening. The turnabout that had her on her back, underneath her husband’s strong form, was exciting.

“Show me,” she moaned, straining beneath his grasp, “Show me how your family rose up to claim power for themselves. Show how a Camden takes what he wants.” Still, she resisted him, thighs struggling, lashing against his as his own legs sought to force them open. It would have been easy to spread herself for him, and truth be told, it was matter of will to resist her own desire. But her defiance paid off in the form of his taut, firm muscles rippling to restrain her.

The clash had her blood pumping, reflected in a flush on her skin. Not just her own, either, as Ellistair’s scent filled her nose and senses. Another assault in on her resilience, stoking fire within her. Fire that built as a wet heat between her thighs. She ached for him, and that ache drove her to fight harder.

“Overcome me,” She purred, gripping his shoulders and back, nails sharp on his skin. “I want to feel your victory over me. Inside me. But first you need to get me naked.”
 
“Oh, I’ll show you exactly how I rise to power,” Ellistar growled, struggling to push Astrid to the ground. This wasn’t exactly what he’d had in mind, but her playful, eager defiance was just too exciting to ignore. Especially given how it made her firm body press against his, allowing him to feel the muscles rolling and flexing as she moved. Her legs wrapped around his as she ‘fought’ him, her nails digging into his back, and he’d have been fine with that if they’d already both been naked. But they weren’t, and so he gripped her wrists and forced them to the rug above her head.

“Oh, you’ll feel it,” he promised, pushing up over her with one hand gripping both wrists. His free hand ran over the exposed skin of her breasts before tugging and pulling at the laces of her corset. “Struggle all you want,” he laughed, enjoying the way her bare chest heaved as she twisted and fought. “I’m still going to have you.”

The pants were a harder prospect, and made him wish she was slightly more traditional in her attire. A dress h could have just hiked up, after all. But then, he wouldn’t have been able to enjoy watching her ass move in the saddle as she rode. But then he had an idea. Working at his own waist, letting his hand press into her crotch as he did, he worked his own belt free. The leather was stiff, but he managed to twist it around her wrists a few times before tugging the buckle snug against her hand.

“Now,” he laughed, pinning her thighs between his and working at the ties of her breeches, “I’m going by to show you just how I take what I want.” He shifted to one side, grabbing her by the throat as he dragged the pants down over her hips. One leg came free as he pushed her thighs apart, but ndoing his own breeches. His cock, Iron hard and aching, sprang free.

“This is how a Camden uses a princess,” he growled, groaning with relief as he drove his meat deep into her. One hand gripped the belt, pinning her down as he slammed into her. “Go ahead and scream,” he laughed, sheathing himself in her again. “Nobody around to hear you.”
 
“Fuck,” she gasped, his cock splitting her open. Still she bridged her hips to meet his, to take that thick length. Truth be told, the slight sting of forcing her walls apart was a delight counterpoint to the pleasure of taking him. And the way the belt bit into her wrist as she writhed beneath him? She hadn’t expected to find such pleasure in restraint, in losing control, but she liked it.

He looked so hot like this, the low orange light of the fire casting shadows over his features. Adding a darkness to the game they played, as if he hasn’t her beloved husband, but a stranger who happened upon her. The reality of such a situation was disturbing, but she couldn’t worry about such things now. Not as her body begged for more swollen cock slamming into her depths.

Screams broke the silence of the night, each one louder than the last. And why not? He was right, no one would hear them, and he was fucking her so good and hard. “Take me!” She snarled, out of her mind with bliss. Once more her legs wrapped around his waist, spreading herself further for him and pulling him deeper inside. “Take all of me…”
 
Ellistar pushed himself up, his weight leaning into the belt around her wrists to keep her pinned to the floor. "That's it, Princess," he laughed, enjoying the game far more than he'd expected. "Scream for me." He slammed his cock into her, bowing her body as he shoved her hips back across the fur. "High... highborn cunt. That's all you are, now." He slammed in again, watching her breasts bounce as he did. "Just a cunt... for me to use..."

She screamed again, wrapping her legs around him and spreading herself for him. "Take me! Take all of me..."

"Wedding bed's... barely cool..." he groaned, squeezing one shapely breast as he buried his cock in her once more. Fuck, but the feel of her firm thighs around his waist was hot. "I should have taken you there. Filled you... with Camden cum... in your husband's... bed..." The hand on her breast slid upwards to rest on her throat. He could feel her pulse, feel her heart seem to beat in time with his dick pounding into her. "You're mine now, Princess. This is your life, now." He pulled out, fighting against the grip of her legs until his cock was almost completely withdrawn, then slammed back into her. "Just a fucking... fucking... oh...ASTRID!"

His orgasm caught him off guard, dragging her name from his lips as his back arched and he buried his length completely in her. A sort of paralysis gripped him, locking his hand on the belt and tightening his other hand on her throat as his seed flooded her depths. Finally, gasping, he slumped across her. "That..." he gasped, stroking her damp raven curls and kissing her, "that... I wasn't... uhm... wow." Another kiss. "I... I guess I overcame you?"
 
Astrid giggled and gasped as her husband finally released her neck, exhilaration coursing through her veins on the heels of her orgasm. She never would have expected such delight in giving up her power and surrendering to passion, but the forceful way Ellistair had fucked her worked for her.

"I... I guess I overcame you?"

“I’d say,” she exhaled, squirming against her bondage. What had felt good during this little game they played began to strain her arms and shoulders, “Do…do you mind…?” She asked, motioning with her head towards the belt that still bound her. Despite a brief moment of fear, questioning what could she do if he didn’t, Ellistair obliged her. Of course. Stretching out arms, bare breast pushed forward and sweat rolled down her skin. “That was fun. We will have to do it again sometime. But first, wine.”

With another gentle kiss upon her husband’s lips, Astrid moved around him, grabbing the bottle she had packed for them, earlier that evening. Tart liquid soothed her parched throat and left her pleasantly dizzy when she finally relented. Scrubbing droplets from her lips, she passed the bottle to Ellistair, no doubt he was just as thirsty. And with the way orange flames and shadows danced on his strong figure, she was too.

While he was distracted by the wine, Astrid grabbed the belt that he had bound her with. She straddled her husband’s firm thigh, his and her cum dripping on his skin, and pulled Ellistair into another kiss. This time the kiss lingered, tasting of the wine they shared and of their desire. Except Astrid had another idea, grabbing her husband’s wrist and pulling them behind his back. BY the time he figured out what she was doing and broke the kiss, she had already tied his hands behind his back, leaving him in a seated position against a chair.

“Oh dear, what is this? Is this princess leading an uprising about the tyrants who stole her husband’s throne?” Astrid teased, slowly sliding off Ellistair. She stood before him, his climax still trailing down her thighs. “I will have everything you’ve taken from me,” she threated in a low purr. Spreading herself, she placed one foot on the chair he was braced up against and parted the soaking lips of her pussy with two fingers. Drawing closer, she assured him he had no choice in the matter, but to tend to her pleasure. “Everything.”
 
Lost in the lingering, erotic kiss, Ellistar didn't notice what Astrid was up to until she'd bound his hands behind his back. “Oh dear, what is this?" she taunted as she pulled away, clearly enjoying the sight of his struggles to free his hands. "Is this princess leading an uprising about the tyrants who stole her husband’s throne?”

Oh. The taunting question, and the promise of what would come with it, sent a delicious shiver through him that stiffened his cock. "Her husband's throne and his bed," he growled, making a greater show of trying to get loose. "I had you in sight of where he lay, while his body was still warm." Which was true enough, he supposed.

"I will have everything you've taken from me," she purred, melodramatic menace in her voice. His eyes were drawn to her thighs, droplets of cum glistening in the firelight. She must have seen it, because she placed one foot on the chair he was bound to and spread herself for him. "Everything."

"You'd best hope I don't get free, princess," he growled, feeling droplets of their mingled pleasure on his chest. "Because I'll..." Her cum-slick lips pressed against his mouth, cutting off his threat, and a strong hand tangled in his hair and pulled him tight into her. In response his tongue pushed into her slippery folds, probing and exploring deeply. The taste of his seed in her was unfamiliar and, to be honest, one he wasn't sure he cared for. But the moan of pleasure as his tongue caressed her walls and his upper lip pressed and slid against her clit distracted him from those concerns, and her grip on his hair tightened as he struggled to free himself. Damn, but he wanted to touch her. Wanted to grip her ass and pull her tighter as he fucked her with his tongue.

He gasped for breath as she drew back, allowing him to stare wild-eyed and hungry at the lust-flushed features of his wife. "I'll fuck you raw, bitch," he growled, jerking the chair forward as he lunged for her. Strong arms pushed him back, and she laughed. "If I get free, I'll use every hole you have."
 
Astrid didn’t flinch as Ellistair jerked the chair forward, the thud of wood on wood filling their cabin, but she certainly stood straighter. Fearful –and hopeful– that he just might get free, and fulfill his promise to take and use her. Bravado became laughter, boisterous and thick, enjoying this part of the game even more than the last. And still, enjoying the idea he just might take back control.

She turned around, reach back behind her should to get a grasp of his cock. His glorious, thick cock, still slick from their lust. She held him still, lining herself up to him, and teasing him with firm ass cheeks against him. “Everywhere? You want to fuck me everywhere?” The thought was interesting and exciting. A first she could actually offer her husband if he were really so concerned about such things. Would that prove that their eventual children were his? (Which was still such a silly idea to her. As if a virgin couldn’t go on to cuckold her husband).

They would have to try it, but not tonight. Or not right now, at least. Not while her cunt trembled, aching for his cock. So, this time, as she teased him, grinding against that steel bar of an erection, she brushed her slit over him and sat on his lap in a single fluid motion. He filled her, differently from this angle than from the others, and it felt divine. “Oh fuck,” she groaned, still grinding against him. “That’s really good.” She lifted her hips just a bit, coming half off his cock before driving back down on him, her weight burying his length even deeper this time. “So good…”

One hand brace on his thigh and the other teased her clit, using her husband like a well-crafted fuck toy. Slow, deep strokes that drove her wild on him.
 
“Everywhere?" Astrid laughed, pressing her ass against his chest as she gripped his stiff cock. "You want to fuck me everywhere?”

Ellistar hadn't really thought of the specifics of the teasing threat he'd made, to be honest. He was just playing up the role of the captured rebel, and making erotic threats. But, well, damn. "Fuck yes," he growled, leaning his body forward to try and bite at her back. "I'll use that royal ass the same way I used your cunt, Princess." Stretch as he might, he could barely scrape his teeth over her skin. "I'll tie you down and fuck it raw, while you scream and beg."

In response she lowered herself onto his aching meat, slowly swallowing him. All he could do was gasp in an agony of ecstasy as he felt her arousal drip down his shaft and her walls slowly grip his length. “Oh fuck,” she groaned, still grinding against him. “That’s really good.”

"Fuck," he groaned in response, trying to thrust upwards and finding it nearly impossible thanks to the angle they were at. "Oh... oh fuck..."

She lifted her hips just a bit, coming half off his cock before driving back down on him, her weight burying his length even deeper this time. “So good…”

His breath caught as she leaned forward, bracing on his thigh. And then he felt her fingers stroking his dick where it entered her cunt, felt them stroking him almost absently as she stroked herself and stroked herself on him. He struggled against the belt again, mad to free his hands so he could fill them with her body. So he could press her back against him, feel her whole body moving against his as she fucked him, as she fucked herself on him. "Fucking cock-hungry slut," he growled into her ear, trying to continue his role in the game. "I... fuck... I had you by, by force. Oh... fuck..." His eyes rolled back as she took him deep again. "Tied... tied you down... and... and... used your... your royal cunt... like a whore..." Leaning against her, his teeth found purchase on her shoulder for a moment. "And you're back... for more... And I'll... I'll... FUCK!"

He threw his head back and arched his back, doing his best to drive his cock into her as he came. His painfully hard dick erupted in her, throbbing and pulsing against he tight inner walls as his seed coated her. Inarticulate cries of pleasure tore from his throat as he came, the sounds grunting out in time with his heartbeat.
 
Astrid leaned back into her husband, thighs aching from the effort of fucking him from this angle. It had felt amazing, but now she worn out and covered in perspiration. “Cock hungry slut…” She repeated, still catching her breath, “I feel like I should be offended, but it was fucking hot hearing you call me that.” She laughed weakly, tired and content, before craning her neck to kiss him.

It was another moment before she got off his lap and untied him, still curious if he was going to make good on his playful threats. But it had been a long afternoon and evening, and they had hardly slept the night before, and exhaustion wore heavy upon them. BY now the first was no longer roaring, but crackled and spat, keeping the roomy cabin at a comfortable temperature. Astrid cuddled up to her Ellistair, covering them with a fur blanket.

“I love you,” she cooed, nuzzling him happily before planting light kisses on his face. She settled in beside him, nestled under his arm with her head resting on his bare chest, and enjoying the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. “And, if you feel the urge to wake me up with some middle of the night sex, this cock hungry slut will not complain.”
 
“It was fucking hot calling you that,” Ellistar grinned, accepting the kiss. “Maybe not all the time, but hot.” It was also fucking hot when she pressed against him, molding her body to his as she undid the belt that kept him bound to the chair. The thought of having her again, staring into his eyes as he loved her long and slow, was exciting. But the effects of a lengthy ride, and cutting wood, and fucking last by and hard all combined to produce a jaw-cracking yawn instead of a passionate kiss. So she his arms wrapped around her, it was to snuggle against her on the beach skin as she pulled another fur over them both.

“I love you,” she cooed, nuzzling him.

“Love you too,” he yawned, smiling as she kissed him and returning them with the same sleepy affection as Neil she nestled into his arms. “How did I get so lucky?”’

Sighing contentedly, she rested her head on his chest “And, if you feel the urge to wake me up with some middle of the night sex, this cock hungry slut will not complain.”

“No promises,” he yawned, kissing her hair. “But I’ll see what happens.” Close by his eyes, he settled in to the furs. Soon, pleasantly fatigued and lulled by the pleasant sort nd of her breathing, he drifted off to sleep.

Hours later, he woke up. It was a slow, gentle thing, driven mostly by the way Astrid had brushed against him in her sleep. He wasn’t accustomed to sharing a bed, not yet, and pleasant as her presence was it was going to take some getting used to. A sentiment that his bride didn’t seem to share, if the single snore that escaped her was any indication.

He was at her sleep for a while, a series of gently moving curves highlighted by the silvery moonlight and dappled shadows that streamed through the trees outside. Gorgeous, he thought. Magnificent. Erotic, he added, absently gripping and lightly stroking his burgeoning erection. The strokes slowly increased tempo as he felt his arousal build, and he began to wish she was awake. And then he grinned.

She’d invited him to wake her, hadn’t she?

He started to reach for her, then stopped. Yes, of course he could just wake her. But, well, she was asleep right now. How aroused, he wondered, could he get her before she awoke to his touch? Would she wake up immediately? Or could he blend dream and reality until she awoke her ln mid-orgasm, unsure if she was still dreaming as he slipped into her?

He smiled. Only one way to find out. Carefully, trying not to wake her, he rested his hand on the firm peak of her breast. The fur blanket let him feel the softness and the shape of her, but the fur itself would be stroking her bare skin. Gently, carefully, he played the fur over the stiffening flesh beneath.
 
Astrid’s dreams flowed from the familiar to the strange, filling in details that were incongruous to the waking world. She called the castle of Landisford home, while all around it burned. At least Ellistair was here.

Still, Ellistair was…off. Darker somehow. A manifestation of the game they played, a rougher, cruel version of the man she married. He led the force assaulting the castle, and had, by now, cornered her into the bedroom. Defenses torn from her body, nothing remained to prevent him from taking what he wanted. Nothing left to protect her from this violation, not as he robbed her mind of the last traces of resistance.

The body on the floor of her bedroom was a vaguely masculine thing. She recognized it was supposed to be her husband. Not Ellistair, mind, but the husband he killed to claim her as his own. Another extension of their little game, made real by an imaginative mind.

“Struggle all you want. I’m still going to have you.”

His hands were soft on her breasts, a mocking parody of a lover’s touch. Mocking, while the corpse of her husband watched on. Worst, his touch ignited passion within her, stirring her desire against her dislike. Hands that had killed her lover caressed her breast, and her back arched into his touch. Nipples harden, throbbing in time with her terrified and aroused pulse.

“Go ahead and scream,” he mocked, switching to the other, aching breast, “Nobody around to hear you.”

As if granted permission, a moan escaped her lips, carrying her growing lust as the usurper took his prize. Outside of her control, her legs spread, offering him a position between them. His warm weight pressed her deeper into her mattress, brushing his swollen cock against her thigh as he took a kiss. A kiss she didn’t deny, meeting and matching his tongue in her mouth.

Her hips ground against his, dripping with seed and still craving more cock. Craving the cock of a conquerer, even if it were the man who slew her husband. She tried to pull him into with her own legs, but her pulled free, taunting her with a wicked smile.

“Highborn cunt. That's all you are, now,” he teased, trailing finger down her nude body. One thick digit traced her entrance, not yet entering despite how she writhed, “Just a cunt... for me to use..." As she whimpered, one finger pushed into her swollen depths, followed by a long, low moan.
 
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