Dark Passions: Dark Romance Boxed Set, page 70
They were betraying her, just as she’d been betrayed so many times before. But never by them. They’d kept her safe, watched her back, protected her just as she had them for so long. Ara’bor and her went back years, ages in bandit time, and even Odir had travelled with them for many solid months.
Ara’bor had no trouble restraining her, as thickly muscled as he was. Pinning her legs together, he pressed a calf down upon them, holding them in place as he grabbed for her wrists and prevented her from finishing her spell. “‘ey now,” he began in his deep voice, “none a’ that. We’re still all friends here.”
“Get that thing tied around her head,” Ara’bor commanded Odir, and the young man instantly complied.
Her entire body struggled to the point of pain but to no avail. Her abilities had been effectively stripped away by the two people she trusted enough to travel with. Her strange, dark eyes became fiery as she yelled out ‘fuck you’ to them both, the words muffled against the gag as Odir tied the cloth around to the back of her head.
“Take her wrists,” commanded Ara’bor, and the young man again obeyed, transferring the slender limbs into his own hands and pulling them up over her head. They had no more makeshift rope to spare for her, so he kept her arms restrained in his grip.
Meanwhile the leader of their little gang shifted himself up straighter, reaching to her waist and beginning to pry through her clothes, undoing the waist of her thin breeches. “Don’t hold it against us, Elin,” he demanded in a voice that was both deep and a little hoarse from the cold mountain air. He yanked her pants down, “We need a bit a’ release, and yer all we got.” His words were of no comfort as her smooth, olive skin prickled against the cold. A pair of thin boxers were all that separated her lower half from the icy humidity of the tent.
Hot tears blurred her vision as she struggled harder against her binds, using all her strength to try to get away. There was no planning, no tactics, just pure fright. His words were degrading and cruel, and they chilled through her. She was no longer a comrade in arms; she was cast as an object to quell desire and frustration, nothing more.
The undergarments didn’t last much longer, despite her resistance. A tiny tuft of black hair shielded her full slit from view as she stilled for a moment, giving Ara’bor a look that could only be described as pleading. The two garments became something of a trap in themselves, binding her legs together as Ara’bor thrust her knees apart roughly. Beginning to undo the clasps of his own gear, he showed little intention of exposing much more of himself than necessary, just a mere glimpse of the rock hard abs of his stomach came into her view as he pried the girth of his sizable manhood free, already stiff with arousal, even under the terrifying circumstances.
“Keep her still,” Ara’bor growled.
Odir licked his lips, his eyes wide with delight, “I ain’t never fucked a demon-bitch.”
Grabbing her legs and thrusting them down, the darker man glared at Odir, “Show some respect,” he snapped, perhaps more bothered by the reminder that he was about to lay with a half-breed demon-spawn than the remark itself.
They’d traveled together for so long she’d actually come to rely on the towering leader and, even in spite of his seeming dislike of her, or maybe because of it, she’d become comfortable at his side. In all of their years together, Ara’bor had never showed any ill intents towards her.
Even now he acted reluctant, as if what he was going to do was something he couldn’t escape, rather than a thing he was choosing to inflict upon her. Though he may be prejudiced against her, it was but a fraction of how most felt towards her kind.
She’d left the town to escape this type of treatment, this all-encompassing fear, the abuse of trust, the constant violence. To have escaped it for so long, she forgot the burning hatred and pain that coiled through her delicate body.
With no adequate response, Elin’s pleading eyes begged upwards to the newer man, her tiny ribs heaving as she shook her head at him, but she found no sympathy in him at all. Unlike their leader, he looked anxiously excited for what was happening, eagerly watching and waiting, dying for a chance at her flesh.
With her thighs spread wide apart, Ara’bor brought his bulging crown, foreskin peeled back, down to her slit, jamming it in against her sex.
It had all happened so suddenly. The entire act of pinning her down and stripping her took no more than a minute or two, but it felt like an eternity in her terror. Her breathing was hot against the gag in her mouth and she renewed her struggles as she felt the flared tip begin to pierce into her.
It had been a long while since Elin could enjoy the privacy or ability to relieve her own tensions, and even if her body did prickle unwillingly at the carnal sensations, it wasn’t enough. A muffled “Stop!” and a yank of her body tried to draw Ara’bor’s attention to the wrongness of the situation, but he continued to jam himself against and into her forcefully, digging his fingers into her thighs, grinding his teeth as the slender woman was kept in place.
Under another set of circumstances, she would have considered Ara’bor an attractive man. She’d noticed him before, the strong body, the easy commanding nature, the gravelly voice. But long ago Elin had learned that those kind of fantasies were just torture for her and she’d repressed them deep down. Now, forcing himself upon her, he seemed anything but a dream man for her.
Odir, still anxiously awaiting his chance, merely muttered, “C’mon,” under his breath.
Facing resistance as he violated her, there was an odd moment where Ara’bor stroked her inner thigh in an almost soothing, apologetic manner. Tears stung her eyes and the effect of the soft caress was quickly lost as he resumed shoving himself into her in the dark of the tent.
Her cries were muffled by the gag, but her tears went unhindered, spilling from her exotic eyes. After the first two pools of water dripped away from her, she clenched them shut, body arching as she let out a loud, pained scream as his body slowly won out against hers.
Burying himself inside her cunt with a grunt of exertion, her narrow cunny was tacky and resistant as he began to draw back, gruffly muttering, “Relax, we ain’t gonna kill ya or nothin’.”
The worst thing was that was a relief to Elin. She didn’t calm at his words, but her struggling did relax slightly, her face twitching between disgust and despair, unable to look at either of them any more in the dark tent. She knew as well as she could that it was easier to just let it happen. In the end, they would always win.
Though in truth, it was exhaustion and weariness that won out at least as much as reason. Resting the two men had quickly drained her of all energy, her muscles weakened and tired.
Ara’bor’s armoured outfit dug into her as the long deprived man slowly began to set a pace of thrusting inside her, seemingly desperate for the feel of her flesh around him.
Though the moment was grim, in all their time in the mountains the tent had never been warmer, as the heat of their bodies grinding together grew, and even that she resented.
As the slap of flesh—his balls striking her ass, his cock banging against her—mingled with the strike of her thighs against cold metal and fur, so too was added his own low grunts and groans. The whole act didn’t last over long. There was no romantic press of bodies, and he had been so long without the touch of another on his loins that his release brewed forth quickly.
With a few erratic pumps, Ara’bor bucked and groaned, shooting his load into her, heedless of the consequences as he used her body for his own selfish desires.
Spending little time lingering inside her after, Odir urgently beckoned, “C’mon boss, let me go now!”
Odir’s words sent a chill of terror through her, her eyes bounced around the darkness of their small confines, face reddened with anger and fright. Ara’bor... Even during this she trusted his promise that he wouldn’t kill her, but Odir she didn’t trust at all. She didn’t know him well enough to. Her muscles were tight from being kept pinned, even for such a relatively short period, and she could already feel the bruises forming against her skin.
The dark man over top of her shot a glare to the fair young Odir, though no sharp words followed, and even his look faded quickly. Plucking his loins from her with a messy tug, he smeared some of his seed against her inner thigh before tucking himself into his pants. The anxious Odir fidgeted as Ara’bor redid his cold weather gear, eager to transfer her arms to his hold.
Ara’bor lifted himself out from between her legs, taking her arms and keeping his boot on her pants, pinning her still as the younger man scurried around to take his place. She tried to struggle from the grasp in the split second of the switch, but there was no opening, no availability for her to stop what was happening to her.
Switching positions, Odir fumbled with his furred outfit, exposing his own stiffness to the increasingly stuffy air of the tent before lowering himself down.
Head feeling swollen and tender, she sought Ara’bor’s gaze in the dark tent, begging for him to stop the younger man.
His eyes seemed to catch hers in the dimness of the tent, but there was no reprieve. His hands kept her wrists pinned, a strong grasp holding her firmly in place, although not as roughly as the younger man had done.
Odir wasted no time, jamming the fat tip of his slippery cock against her cunt so that it sunk into it immediately with the aid of the other man’s seed. Far more vocal and noisy than Ara’bor, Odir rocked into her hard, ramming himself against her insides as his hands gripped her thighs. Another loud sob gripped her body, forcing her to spasm and squirm fruitlessly underneath the two large men.
Odir was impatient and greedy for her body and the release it promised, and bucked into her roughly without delay. Her head rocked back, exposing her throat as she screamed a mourning wail into the gag. Every slam of his body against hers brought with it more pain, bruising the inside of her thighs as she tried to kick him away.
She couldn’t help but wonder whose idea it was, and she was terrified for it to be over at the same time she wished for nothing else. At least for now, she knew what was happening and what she could anticipate. After the other man found his pleasure, things were much more uncertain.
The brutal way in which the younger man jabbed into her didn’t go unnoticed, and in a gruff commanding voice Ara’bor managed to bark at him, “Don’t beat her up! Just do what ya gotta.” Odir had no reply but his grunts and groans, lost in his own pleasure far more than the darker man had been. Twisting and thrusting himself into her, he didn’t heed the warning, just hammered himself in, panting unevenly until he too was spasming and writhing atop her, his boots scraping upon the stones beneath the mat.
She whimpered a fruitless protest against his orgasm, her head falling to the side in defeat. Her entire body felt scorching hot, her muscles knotted and tense as her ragged breathing struggled out through her nose and the cloth stuck in her mouth.
With his legs kicking, tugging at her pants and straining her pinned legs, he spent himself inside her after a long, very vocal and emotive release. He held her body, panting as he spoke to Ara’bor, “I wanna go again after you.”
Her physical protests rejuvenated, but with far less energy behind them. She’d beaten herself out in the struggle, and was exhausted. Still, she wasn’t defeated, and she didn’t wholly stop trying to wrestle her wrists away.
Ara’bor didn’t respond right away, instead letting him tug himself out of her cunt, allowing the two seeds to mingle and drool out of her gaping, used slit.
“No,” Ara’bor stated firmly.
“What?!” snapped the younger man.
Before he could continue, the more dominant man put a stop to it. “She’s had enough. An’ you were too fuckin’ rough with her anyhow,” he added irritably.
The younger man, quite against his nature, kept up his protests, “Aw fuck ‘er! We’ve been up in these mountains for ages with no fun!”
Her heart pounded harder in her chest as her breathing caught, not daring to do anything to attract their attention.
The tension was thick for a moment, between the young Odir and the silent but glaring Ara’bor. Finally Odir broke the silence again to speak in his impetuous tone, “She ain’t one of us anymore anyhow! Can’t trust ‘er now, so why not wear ‘er out?!”
Elin had never seen the man in this light before, and a chill ran up her spine at the heartlessness and threat in his voice. She’d known men like him, men in the towns that had eagerly run her out, and she knew they were capable of such heinous things.
Despite all the pain of her life, though, she didn’t want to die. She didn’t want to face her death used up and useless.
Ara’bor’s hands almost released Elin’s wrists before he stopped himself. “That’s. Enough.”
The words were simple, but forceful, each growled out angrily, and despite the fact that young Odir opened his mouth to protest some more, the deadly gaze he received finally succeeded in shutting him up.
“I told ya to get it outta yer system. Ya had yer chance, so now ya go lay down an’ rest. Understood?” Ara’bor’s threat was implicit on the last word, and silence again hung in the air.
Odir, disappointed with the turn, seemed to fizzle at last. His head sagging, a braid of dirty blonde hair drooping over his chest, he nodded to the elder man. Tucking himself away he pointed to Elin, “How we gonna tie her up for the night?” he asked, “Ain’t got a post ta lash her to or nothin’.”
“We ain’t,” Ara’bor responded firmly.
Immediately the younger man began to object, “Bu—” and he was cut off by another sharp look.
Rising up, Odir was reluctant to take his foot off the pants that so conveniently helped keep her legs pinned. “Ain’t gonna feel comfortable with her loose while I sleep.”
“Deal with it,” Ara’bor replied gruffly, holding his ground against the junior member of their party with that dark, ominous insistence.
The other man finally let her pants free, “A’right then.”
Elin’s legs immediately closed and curled, the muscles tense, the wet feeling between them disgusting to her. Still, she gave a grateful look up to her captor. Her breathing was shallow and hoarse from the struggled shouts of only moments earlier.
Odir went over to his mat, shifting to squat down on it. Casting a suspicious look over to them both--though over all looking more at ease than he had been earlier--he settled in to reluctantly go to sleep.
The grim man standing over her, her head between his tightly muscled thighs, looked down. There was no hint of regret, no real softness, just determination as if he had to do an unpleasant task. He loosened his grasp on her wrists a moment before letting them go, his hands moving to the sides of her face to the makeshift gag, not yet removing it but looking as if he was about to, “Y’alright?” he asked, the tone of his voice indicating that he was trying to judge if she was going to try and retaliate rather than if she was hurt.
Her arms went slack, shifting out of their uncomfortable position as she nodded to him. She wasn’t going to fight. Even with the novice skills she’d learned as a mage, she was no match for the brute strength of the two of them. Especially not, exhausted as she was now.
Ara’bor’s fingers moved through her dark hair around to the back of her head, untying the gag, and then carefully peeled it from her mouth.
She licked around her lips, swallowing the pool of saliva and taking in a gasp of air, all within the span of a second. She didn’t scream, even as her eyes threatened more tears, a tiny sniffle coming from her but little more until a soft ‘thank you’ pressed forth for removing the gag.
He watched her the whole time, giving but the slightest of nods in return to her meek gratitude. There was no anger or hatred in his gaze, not even dislike or paranoia.
Whatever was going on in his mind was more subtle and muted as he placed the gag aside. With a glance over at the other man, Odir’s eyes shut immediately upon being looked at, as if he could pass himself off as already being on his way to sleep.
Peering at her, the dark man looked as if about to say something, though the expression he gave seemed to say it all for him: he didn’t trust Odir to let the matter drop, and neither should she.
She was shivering, her pants left around her ankles until she understood the unspoken message, nervously trying to tug them up. It made her heart pound and her lower lip tremble.
Suddenly she wanted very much to be near the gruff leader, if only to protect her from Odir’s hate-filled lust.
Ara’bor showed no sign of further restraining her, merely headed over to his own mat a couple feet away. Settling himself down, he tugged up the large fur pelt that served as his only blanket, taken from a poacher they had held up a few weeks prior. Ever a keen observer, he seemed to note her own thoughts, and with a motion of his head he gestured for her to settle in behind him, a quiet invitation.
Frightened she’d stumble if she tried to stand, instead she crawled towards him, tugging her own makeshift blanket with her. Even if she wanted to leave the bandit camp, it was night, and it was the middle of the mountains. It was difficult enough traveling with companions by day; by herself, it would be suicide.
She was trapped.
Odir’s eyes were open again without any subterfuge as he heard her shuffling over to Ara’bor. There was a glint of jealousy there and suspicion as he watched her join the elder man, who welcomed her beside him, conveniently making room at the far end of the tent.
From all the physical activities of the three, the tent was warmer that night than it had been for all their time in the wilds, yet still she didn’t fall prey to sleep for the rest of the night.
She came in and out of awareness, but there was always a part of her that was alert to the sounds of the tent, and of the other two men, constantly listening to their breathing, their shifting. She shivered, despite the heat of the tent, the smell of sex suffocating her.
The violent act seemed aimed to relieve tensions, yet it was thick in the shelter regardless, even though none of them moved the whole night through.
