by Rowan Bree
“Only one way to the castle,” he grunts.
“I’m not looking for the castle,” you reply.
“Then where?”
The other one hops off the wagon and comes around. He might be part elf, though you’ve never seen one so strongly built. Only his pointed ears betray him as such.
You look down at your fine dress and try to come up with a plausible lie.
The half-elf speaks for you. “I don’t blame you. I wouldn’t want to spend my night stuck in the castle with that miserable lot.”
You glance behind him to see your three companions still standing in the shadows where you left them.
“Do you know a place I can get a good drink and not be bothered?” You ask.
“Down the road’s the Lion’s Mane. Should be quiet tonight ‘cause of the feast.” He goes back to rifling through Sybil’s supplies. You need to stall longer.
“Any chance you could show me? I’m terrible with directions.”
The half-elf looks up. He smiles.
He calls back to his orcish friend, “Fancy a drink at the Lion’s Mane?”
The orc gets off the cart to stand next to him. “If you’re paying.”
“Don’t worry about it. It’s on me,” you tell them.
You take a few steps backwards, hoping to lure them just far enough for Sybil and Jasper to take the cart. As you glance past the elf you see Sybil gesture you even further. There is a narrow alley to your right that would take them out of sight of the cart. But you know what can happen with strange men in dark alleys. Do you take the risk?
Stay in sight.
Leave the cart.
You agree to go with them.
“Great,” Jasper smiles. He opens the closet door. “Now to find Sybil.”
A woman nearly runs into him as he steps into the hallway.
“Talking about me again?” she asks. She is wearing a gorgeous golden gown with black lace. Eli seems to cower in her presence.
“Sybil, what are you doing down here?” Jasper hisses. His eyes dart back and forth down the hallway.
She replies, “I’m coming to get Vale. He’s been gone a while and the others were getting restless. I thought it would be a good opportunity for plan B.”
“Plan B’s already been done,” Jasper replies. “You can thank Eli for that.”
He steps aside to bring Eli into the woman’s view.
“I’m not even going to ask,” she says. Eli relaxes visibly. “I guess that means we’re leaving now.”
Jasper nods and the woman sets off down the hallway. You follow as quietly as you can, scared that you might be discovered at any moment by the castle guards.
Somehow you make it out of the castle and into the courtyard. You skirt the castle walls, careful to stay out of sight though you don’t see a single guardsman. They must be inside enjoying the feast. Sybil leads you out of the castle grounds and towards town. She stops suddenly.
“Anyone in the mood for a fight?” she asks.
Parked on the side of the street up ahead is a wagon whose contents are being rifled through by a pair of large men. They might even be orcs but it’s hard to tell in the dark.
“Don’t tell me that’s our wagon,” Eli says.
Sybil frowns. “Not anymore.”
“Nonsense,” Jasper says. “All we need is a diversion. You’ll help us, right?” He looks at you.
“Me?” you ask.
Jasper smiles. “All you need to do is distract them long enough for me to get the horse’s reigns. Easy.”
You look at Eli and Sybil for a way out but it doesn’t look like you’ll be getting one.
“Just don’t leave without me,” you say.
You approach the men who are still busy rooting through the plentiful supplies on the wagon. Sybil must have been preparing for a long journey.
“I’m sorry, but I seem to be a bit lost,” you say.
One of the men looks up. He has a rough, battle-worn face and arms as big around as your thighs. You see a pair of short tusks curving up from his lower lip when he speaks. He could be half orc.
“Only one way to the castle,” he grunts.
“I’m not looking for the castle,” you reply.
“Then where?”
The other one hops off the wagon and comes around. He might be part elf, though you’ve never seen one so strongly built. Only his pointed ears betray him as such.
You look down at your fine dress and try to come up with a plausible lie.
The half-elf speaks for you. “I don’t blame you. I wouldn’t want to spend my night stuck in the castle with that miserable lot.”
You glance behind him to see your three companions still standing in the shadows where you left them.
“Do you know a place I can get a good drink and not be bothered?” You ask.
“Down the road’s the Lion’s Mane. Should be quiet tonight ‘cause of the feast.” He goes back to rifling through Sybil’s supplies. You need to stall longer.
“Any chance you could show me? I’m terrible with directions.”
The half-elf looks up. He smiles.
He calls back to his orcish friend, “Fancy a drink at the Lion’s Mane?”
The orc gets off the cart to stand next to him. “If you’re paying.”
“Don’t worry about it. It’s on me,” you tell them.
You take a few steps backwards, hoping to lure them just far enough for Sybil and Jasper to take the cart. As you glance past the elf you see Sybil gesture you even further. There is a narrow alley to your right that would take them out of sight of the cart. But you know what can happen with strange men in dark alleys. Do you take the risk?
Stay in sight.
Leave the cart.
“I belong here,” you say, remembering the note that brought you through the forest and to the capital. You can’t give up now. You have to figure out who you were once.
“They’ll catch you,” Eli protests.
“No one knows me,” you say. “They have no reason to suspect me. But you two should go. You’re enemies of the crown.”
Jasper opens his mouth to say something but stops himself. He pulls a letter from his tunic and hands it to you. The parchment is slightly warm from his body heat.
“To read at your leisure,” he says and turns to leave. Eli follows, leaving the door open behind him as if inviting you to follow. You can hear bells start to ring out in the distance. The alarm has been sounded. You hope the two rogues get out of the castle safely.
You leave the cramped storage closet just as a couple of guards enter the hallway.
“Hey,” one of them shouts at you. “All guests are supposed to wait in the great hall.”
“Sorry,” you reply. “I’ll go that way now. What’s happening?”
“None of your business. We’ll need to escort you.”
“What’s this?” The other guard says, taking the letter from Jasper. You had forgotten you were still holding it.
“Nothing,” you say, trying to get it back.
“A love letter?”
The guard opens it and begins to read while the other hurries you down the hallway.
“Hold on.” The guard with the letter stops you. He frowns as he hands the letter to his companion. “Tell the king. I’ll take care of the woman.”
The first guard takes back the letter and slips it into his pocket. You wonder what Jasper possibly could have written. Surely nothing that could incriminate you, as you’ve only just met Eli and Jasper and there was no way he could have known you would kill Vale.
The guard takes you down a flight of stairs to what looks like an unused part of the dungeons. Dusty wooden crates lie broken in some of the cells, which are roughly shaped and quite small. It is almost like the castle was built atop the ruin of a much older one, and this is all that remains of it. None of the cells have doors on them, giving you hope that you’re not meant
to be a prisoner here.
“I’m surprised you didn’t put up a fight,” he says.
The guard leads you into a dead end, into one of the unfinished cells. You turn around. Your back is to the wall. It’s dark.
A tingle of fear runs across your body, flushing your cheeks.
The guard smiles. “You didn’t read the letter, did you?”
As he closes the space between you, you realize just how much larger he is than you.
He grabs your legs, yanking you to the ground. He tears at your dress as you struggle.
“Stop fighting,” he growls, hitting you. The pain blinds you. The guard takes advantage of this and pulls down your underpants. You hear his belt being undone. He yanks at your legs pulling them apart, and pulling you closer. You kick at him, screaming, but he is far too strong. He grunts as he pushes into you. The sudden intrusion is a shock.
He fights the resistance your body is putting up and shoves his full length in. You struggle to get away even though it’s already too late.
“Yeah, keep fighting,” the guard growls. “It only makes you tighter.”
He slams into you again and again, each time with more force than the last. You feel a slimy wetness between your legs as your body reacts in confusion to the assault. It makes it easier for him to fuck you, to violate you against your will. You stop fighting and let him have you. It will be over soon, you tell yourself.
Heat builds as your mind drifts further and further away, and you can almost trick yourself into believing the pleasure you’re feeling is consensual. If you block out the pain, the grunting sounds of the guard and his nasty comments, the feeling of the crumbling stone floor against your back, you start to feel like you might actually come. You coax your body towards it, hoping the pleasure will drown out the trauma if only for a moment.
The guard pulls out and flips you over, shattering the calm you were beginning to feel and pulling you right back into the nightmare. He forces you on all-fours and spreads your butt cheeks. A glob of spit drips between them. You know what’s coming.
But something catches your eye. Jasper’s letter is lying on the ground in front of you. Now might be your only chance to read it, but that would mean letting the guard have his way.
Or you could try to one last time to escape.
Read the letter.
Fight the guard.
“I belong here,” you say, remembering the note that brought you through the forest and to the capital. You can’t give up now. You have to figure out who you were once.
“They’ll catch you,” Eli protests.
“No one knows me,” you say. “They have no reason to suspect me. But you two should go. You’re enemies of the crown.”
Jasper opens his mouth to say something but stops himself. He pulls a letter from his tunic and hands it to you. The parchment is slightly warm from his body heat.
“To read at your leisure,” he says and turns to leave. Eli follows, leaving the door open behind him as if inviting you to follow. You can hear bells start to ring out in the distance. The alarm has been sounded. You hope the two rogues get out of the castle safely.
You leave the cramped storage closet just as a couple of guards enter the hallway.
“Hey,” one of them shouts at you. “All guests are supposed to wait in the great hall.”
“Sorry,” you reply. “I’ll go that way now. What’s happening?”
“None of your business. We’ll need to escort you.”
“What’s this?” The other guard says, taking the letter from Jasper. You had forgotten you were still holding it.
“Nothing,” you say, trying to get it back.
“A love letter?”
The guard opens it and begins to read while the other hurries you down the hallway.
“Hold on.” The guard with the letter stops you. He frowns as he hands the letter to his companion. “Tell the king. I’ll take care of the woman.”
The first guard takes back the letter and slips it into his pocket. You wonder what Jasper possibly could have written. Surely nothing that could incriminate you, as you’ve only just met Eli and Jasper and there was no way he could have known you would kill Vale.
The guard takes you down a flight of stairs to what looks like an unused part of the dungeons. Dusty wooden crates lie broken in some of the cells, which are roughly shaped and quite small. It is almost like the castle was built atop the ruin of a much older one, and this is all that remains of it. None of the cells have doors on them, giving you hope that you’re not meant to be a prisoner here.
“I’m surprised you didn’t put up a fight,” he says.
The guard leads you into a dead end, into one of the unfinished cells. You turn around. Your back is to the wall. It’s dark.
A tingle of fear runs across your body, flushing your cheeks.
The guard smiles. “You didn’t read the letter, did you?”
As he closes the space between you, you realize just how much larger he is than you.
He grabs your legs, yanking you to the ground. He tears at your dress as you struggle.
“Stop fighting,” he growls, hitting you. The pain blinds you. The guard takes advantage of this and pulls down your underpants. You hear his belt being undone. He yanks at your legs pulling them apart, and pulling you closer. You kick at him, screaming, but he is far too strong. He grunts as he pushes into you. The sudden intrusion is a shock.
He fights the resistance your body is putting up and shoves his full length in. You struggle to get away even though it’s already too late.
“Yeah, keep fighting,” the guard growls. “It only makes you tighter.”
He slams into you again and again, each time with more force than the last. You feel a slimy wetness between your legs as your body reacts in confusion to the assault. It makes it easier for him to fuck you, to violate you against your will. You stop fighting and let him have you. It will be over soon, you tell yourself.
Heat builds as your mind drifts further and further away, and you can almost trick yourself into believing the pleasure you’re feeling is consensual. If you block out the pain, the grunting sounds of the guard and his nasty comments, the feeling of the crumbling stone floor against your back, you start to feel like you might actually come. You coax your body towards it, hoping the pleasure will drown out the trauma if only for a moment.
The guard pulls out and flips you over, shattering the calm you were beginning to feel and pulling you right back into the nightmare. He forces you on all-fours and spreads your butt cheeks. A glob of spit drips between them. You know what’s coming.
But something catches your eye. Jasper’s letter is lying on the ground in front of you. Now might be your only chance to read it, but that would mean letting the guard have his way.
Or you could try to one last time to escape.
Read the letter.
Fight the guard.
You ignore Sybil’s frantic gesturing and decide to stay in sight of the cart. She signals to Jasper. You catch the glint of his blade as he sneaks around the back of the cart.
“Are we going or not?” The half-orc asks.
“Yes,” you reply shakily. “Just give me a second. My feet ache from these shoes.”
“I could carry you,” the half-orc says with a grin. “It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve—”
His throat gurgles and his eyes go wide. You look away as Jasper pulls the blade from the base of his neck, only to see the half elf crumple to the ground beside him. The growing pool of blood underneath the pair of dead men looks black. Eli wipes his dagger on a rag and grimaces.
“Let’s go,” Sybil hisses from atop the cart. She already has the reins in her hand. Jasper climbs up beside her. You follow Eli around to the back of the cart. There is barely room for the two of you to squeeze in behind the stack of crates and barrels. Most of the supplies are thankfully still intact.
The cart jerks and
you tumble back against Eli. You push yourself back to sitting and notice that Eli doesn’t look so good.
“I’m sorry,” you say, unsure exactly what you’re apologizing for.
“I hate killing.” Eli snaps his fingers and a small flame flickers between them. It dies in the wind.
“I should have led them away from the cart,” you say.
Eli looks up at you. “Where? Into the alley? I’m glad you didn’t.”
The ragged edge of his ear looks brutal in the moonlight, and for a second you think you can see the bruised little core of his heart usually hidden by his snarky attitude.
He smiles a little to himself and looks at you. “We’re officially murderers and enemies of the crown. Still wish you went to the feast?”
You shrug. “I’ve had worse nights.”
Eli laughs and leans in to kiss you. His breath smells like herb smoke and whisky.
Kiss him back.
Stop him.
You kiss him back, savoring the smoky taste of him. The cart jostles making your teeth bump together. Eli laughs.
He asks, “What happened to ‘not gonna happen’?”
“Shut up,” you tell him.
He hikes up your dress and pulls you onto his lap. Though you know Sybil and Jasper are just on the other side of the tower of crates, you let the elf remove your panties. You watch as they fly away on the wind.
“Whoops,” Eli says. His grin is anything but apologetic.
You shove him backwards and kiss him hard. He pulls your dress up further and you can feel the cool night air on your wet pussy. Eli’s fingers are cool too, but warm quickly as he tickles you. You reach into his pants and stroke his cock.
The wind shifts and bits of Jasper and Sybil’s conversation drift towards you. They seem to be talking about you but you can’t make much out between the jostling of the cart and Eli’s soft moans in your ear.
