by Zoe Blake
Letting out a shriek of outrage, I curled my fingers into fists as I sought to burn their hearts from within their chests.
Nothing happened.
Raising my arms, I cried out for the dark force.
Nothing.
“What form of torment is this?” I demanded as my lips pulled back to bare my teeth.
“We haven’t begun to torment you,” warned one of the men.
I shrieked in response as I once more tried to use my powers.
Nothing.
Swiping my arm through the purple smoke only caused a piercing sensation on my skin. Having never felt the like before, I could only assume it was pain. As an enchanted creature, I had always been immune to such sensations.
I was trapped inside this dark sorcery cage.
In horror, I watched as each of them slipped a long, black leather whip from their saddle horns. They slowly untwined the braided leather, each raising his arm high to crack the whip above his head.
Taunting me.
Once more, I tried to summon the dark force but was denied.
The air was rent by the cracking of whip as the thick black leather strip closed around my raised wrist. Another snap and my other wrist was imprisoned in leather.
“I shall see you damned for this!”
Pulling on my arms with all my might, I was no match for their strength. Two of them encircled my purple mist cage, wrenched my arms down and close to my body. Another whip snaked around my middle, further strapping my arms down. Contorting my body to the left and right, I could not break free. In desperation, I called out to Hrafn, but he did not come to my aid.
With my body strapped in leather, the men stepped through the purple mist, seemingly without harm. It must be some sort of enchantment to bind only my powers.
The one with the gray hair grasped my chin and forced my head back to meet his dark viridian gaze.
“Will you submit, and do as you are bid?”
Jerking my chin free, my eyes narrowed to slits as I inhaled deeply. “Hear me now—”
A heavy hand was dragged across my lips, quieting me.
“We’ll take that as a no. Come, Troylus. It grows dark. We must secure her in the dungeon before the sun sets.”
The kingsman with gray hair, Troylus, nodded his head before leaning down and placing a shoulder in my middle. Slung helplessly over his shoulder, my arms and lips bound, I could only listen and watch. Waiting for an opportunity to escape.
“You speak the truth, Gripir,” answered Troylus. “Regin, ride ahead and prepare the fortress for our return.”
The one with the tawny hair nodded his assent and disappeared on his horse through the trees.
The dark quiet one approached me as I lay prone over Troylus’ shoulder. Running his hand down the long, silken length of my straight black hair, he pulled roughly on the ends. I hissed, the sharp stab of pain alarming.
“This one will not submit easily, my brother.”
Swatting my backside, Troylus ignored my shriek of protest and said, “Which will make breaking her all that much more enjoyable, Gripir.”
For the first time since the dawn of the first sun, a queen of the fairies was carted out of the forest against her will…by four mortal men.
3
The ease with which this man carried me over his shoulder, revealed his brute strength. He didn’t even appear winded in the slightest as he kept me helpless and dangling over his broad shoulder as if I were simply a cloak on his back.
Troylus.
Yes, that was the name of my captor.
He would be the first of the kingsmen to pay. Pay severely with his life. But not before I had some fun torturing him for even daring to think he could compete against my power.
As the blood rushed to my head, I tried to lift it enough so I could see where they were taking me. It was a fortress located outside the forest that looked like so many I had seen and conquered before. Large blocks of stone, tall turrets to make their insignificant building appear mightier than it truly was against powers as strong as mine. A drawbridge entrance that, for some reason, the humans believed would keep their foe at bay. When would they learn that man-made structures or defenses had no hold over me?
Gasping as Troylus’ shoulder jabbed into my middle, I noticed something around the fortress I had never seen before. The purple haze that the kingsmen had used to capture me in the forest blanketed the dark gray stones. It rested heavily over every crack, every squared edge, and gave off an eerie aura that I couldn’t help but find fascinating.
What had these kingsmen found?
What magic had they conjured?
“What is this place?” I asked as I arched my back even more to fully take in the fortress.
“Your new home. But rest assured that it is truly befitting of a queen such as you,” Troylus said as he and the other men waited for the drawbridge to lower before riding inside on their steeds.
“Release me at once, and I will consider sparing your lives,” I said as I tried to wiggle myself from his shoulder to little avail.
Troylus chuckled. “Just a little bit further, your highness. I will be releasing you soon enough.”
It wasn’t long before the horses were moving forward again, and as we entered the thick purple haze, a sizzling fire burned within my core. The unfamiliar sensation brought tears to my eyes and captured what little breath I had left over from the bouncing of our mount driving Troylus’ shoulder deeper into my stomach with each move.
“What witchery is this?” I asked more to myself than to Troylus because I knew he wouldn’t reveal their attack strategy.
The thick amethyst smoke was clearly my undoing right now. With every breath I took, my power became more and more suffocated. I was nothing but a weak maiden in distress cast over her captor’s shoulder with no ability to fight. It was then that a new sensation grew from the depths of my belly.
Panic.
Looking out onto the horizon one last time before I was carried fully into the heart of my prison, I searched for any sign of Hrafn. Nothing.
Closing my eyes, I silently sent out a call for help. My only hope was that this encompassing fog could not hold back the connection I had with the one who could be my only savior.
A dungeon. Yes, that is where I sat.
Dark, damp, cold and what could become deadly if I could not come up with a way to regain my strength. Sitting tied to a chair, I had already come to the conclusion that without my powers, there would be no escape. The kingsmen had left me alone, so confident that with only a small, barred window near the ceiling, and metal shackles around my ankles and wrists, I would be going nowhere. They were correct in that assessment. No matter how hard I tried to remove my bonds or lift the purple haze spell that enchanted this fortress, there was nothing I could do.
The heavy stomp of boots announced Troylus’ presence without me having to turn my head to see him enter my new, forced domain.
“Queen Zelladine, I hope you find your accommodations suitable?”
The jest in his tone had me grinding my teeth to resist the urge to counter in any way. I may have lost my strength in magic, but I had not lost my strength completely. These kingsmen would soon discover just how much of a force I was regardless of what mystifying spell they had conjured.
Troylus slowly walked around me and stood with his arms crossed against his chest with a smirk on his face. I stared up at him, directly into his eyes. I refused to show anything but complete control and composure.
“Let me begin. You will tell us where we can find Briar Rose’s body, so she can receive a proper burial. This is nonnegotiable and only one of many demands we will have upon you,” he said, not moving, and not breaking the eye contact we both refused to back down from.
A true battle of wills had begun.
Though as with every foe in my past, I had no doubt I would emerge victorious.
The smirk on Troylus’ face grew to a wicked smile as he leaned forward and loo
ked at me closely. “The other men and I have wagers on how long it will take to break you, and with whom you will break. I am fairly confident I will win this bet with them. Though we all knew you would not answer on first ask, I’m actually pleased you did not. I enjoy a challenge.”
I did not enjoy the feelings coursing through me. They were unfamiliar and made me feel weak. Nervous? Trepidatious?
Regardless of what they were, I grew to detest the man before me for causing these inferior sensations to attack my body.
Troylus took hold of the leather strap around his waist and removed it with a swish of his muscular arm. The slicing sound bounced off the moldy walls of the cell, sending a shiver down my spine. He then removed a dagger from a holder that hung off his hip and placed both the strap and knife on a nearby wooden table that took up most of the length of the wall. Every slow move he made seem calculated and choreographed, as if he knew that my heartbeat sped up with every inch of his movements.
With a raised eyebrow, he looked over his shoulder at me and asked, “Would you consider yourself a merciful woman?”
I raised my chin and hardened my face. “No. Never.”
“Neither am I, my dear Zelladine. Neither am I.”
I wasn’t sure if it was the way he spoke to me as if I were a commoner with a common peasant name, or if it was the fact that I watched his eyes darken as he approached me with dagger in hand, but a lump formed in the back of my throat that I struggled to swallow against.
Fear. Yes, fear had me nearly whimpering when he brought the tip of the knife to my throat and ran it delicately along my collarbone. The touch of cool metal against my flesh, contrasted with the warmth of Troylus’ breath so close to my ear and sparked emotions inside of me that had lain forever dormant before.
“Have you ever screamed, Zelladine?”
He pushed the knife a little harder against my neck, piercing the skin just a little. The sting of having my flesh cut for the first time in my existence had me gasping in surprise. I tilted my head away from the weapon as a trickle of blood dripped to my shoulder.
Mortals bled. Not me. Not me.
“Have you ever felt so much pain that you howl against the air you breathe in hopes of releasing some of the agony?” Troylus’ voice was low and husky, reminding me of how I would speak to my prey as well.
He ran the knife down my neck to the fabric of my clothing and sliced effortlessly through the material. Like a wolf clawing at his victim, Troylus slashed away at every inch of clothing that had once covered my body. What remained after his vicious and unrelenting attack was my shivering and completely nude body in nothing but metal shackles. Never before had I stood—or sat for that matter—bare and helpless.
Defenseless.
Vulnerable.
The victim.
“You will pay for this dearly,” I seethed through clenched teeth. “In the worst possible way imaginable, you will pay.”
Another deep chuckle released from my captor as he went and placed the dagger back down on the large table and then walked over to me, took hold of my chains that restricted my ankles and tightened them around the legs of the chair, spreading my legs wider. “Well, in that case, I better make this good. I want it all to be worth it in the end when you’ll make me pay for it.”
Troylus took a few steps back once he tossed the last remaining shred of my clothing to the side and stared upon me. His gaze ran from the tips of my toes that rested on the cool floor, to the top of my head, which caused my face to heat in embarrassment. His eyes devoured every square inch of my being, and there was nothing I could do to stop him or conceal myself in any way. My arms were shackled behind my back, which only pressed my breasts forward, and as much as I wanted to squirm and find some way to hide my most intimate parts, I also didn’t want to give the man the satisfaction of knowing how much my nudity upset me.
His eyes finally settled on the tiny patch of curls between my legs. With my legs spread wide, I could only imagine what my silky folds looked like stretched and opened before him. I wanted to attempt to close my knees, but I also knew the effort was pointless. I had no choice but to sit in the chair with my tits out, and my pussy exposed. Troylus licked his lips as if he could taste what the liquid oddly dripping out of me tasted like. A deep throbbing emerged from my core and pulsated through my pussy. Once again, the unfamiliar feelings had me just as perplexed as before. Although this time, the intensity of the ache that seemed to be in need of quenching had my breath coming out in ragged puffs.
“Queen Zelladine.” His words rumbled from his chest. “What a majestic beauty you are. Too bad we are going to have to dirty up that creamy skin of yours.”
The flurry of emotions, sensations, and uncontrollable reactions of my body were my own worst enemy. I was weakened by far more than the enchanted purple haze, and I realized that the mortal feelings raging through me were far more savage than any dark force I could summon.
Summoning all the pride I had left in my body, I raised my chin and stared him straight in the eyes. With a smirk and a raised eyebrow, I seductively asked, “Do you like what you see, Kingsman?”
Instead of pushing my knees together as I still wanted to do, I resisted the urge and spread them wider, revealing my pussy even more to Troylus’ hungry stare.
“Why don’t you get on your knees and crawl before me like a good subject would do,” I said, “and serve your queen.”
Troylus’ loud boisterous laugh reverberated off the stone walls of the dungeon as his head tilted back and his mighty chest shook. “Oh, Zella, I do enjoy the spirit in you, lass.” He cut his laugh short, his face hardened, and his eyes darkened as he took a step forward and leaned down so he was inches from my face. “I am going to so very much enjoy breaking you. And when I do, and you are nothing but a million broken pieces, my fellow kingsmen will come and pick up the pieces…only to break you again.”
4
I had cast many a spell upon a poor man. I had enjoyed watching the weak mortal held captive under my control. But never before had I experienced being on the other end until now. Troylus did not chant, he did not recite passages from a book of invocations, he did, however, cast a spell over me. Every heavy step he made toward the table that held his leather strap had me fascinated. Every breath he took, every glance he made my way cast me motionless…nearly breathless. I was spellbound, and I knew the hex was just beginning.
“You never answered my question, my queen,” Troylus said as he folded over the leather strap into his hand. “Have you ever screamed?”
I swallowed hard but refused to show any sign of weakness or fear. “No.”
Troylus walked up before me, kneeled before my outstretched legs, and stared directly at my pussy which only made it throb more. The cool air against my moist curls, along with shivers of anticipation caused raised bumps to cover my skin.
“What about moan? Have you ever moaned in pleasure, your highness? Have you ever moaned so loudly that it’s difficult to tell the difference between your moans and your screams?”
I refused to answer his vile questions but instead watched him as he continued to examine my sex mere inches from his face.
He then surprised me when he inhaled deeply and said, “The scent of a queen.” He looked into my eyes as he ran his finger along the outside of my pussy. “I like.”
My body tensed, and I struggled to conceal the gasp that forced its way through my pursed lips.
Rubbing his finger in strokes up and down the lips of my pussy, he said, “You will. You will be moaning and screaming by the time I’m done with you. The question will be which one you prefer the most.”
Troylus pulled his finger away and stood. The absence of his touch infuriated me more than being shackled to a chair in the dungeon had.
“You are a fool to think you won’t suffer because of this,” I spat. “It is only a matter of time until I will rise and reign over you once again. I’m warning you—”
“Yes, my queen. You
have already told me that there will be a price to pay for my actions,” he interrupted. “If I am to die, then let’s make damn sure I leave a legacy.”
He snapped the leather strap in between his hands to get my attention and then slapped it down on my mons. I flinched at the small biting sting with wide eyes. Before I could process the sensation, Troylus brought the leather down upon my pussy again. My breath whooshed from my mouth as my eyes closed tight. A small burn erupted along the surface of my flesh, only to intensify when he lashed my throbbing and delicate skin with the leather again. Not pausing, but altering his assault, he then struck one breast and then the other with the leather.
“Before I truly begin, I will give you one last chance to tell me where Briar Rose’s body is,” he said as I opened my eyes to stare up to his towering frame.
Confusion over the flood of powerful vibrations of mortal feelings rattled me, but I refused to bend to his will. I smiled with a tilt to my head and said nothing at all.
“So beautiful and elegant when you smile, my highness,” he said as he used the leather belt to brush aside loose strands of my black hair away from my reddened breasts. “Let us see how pretty that smile is drenched in your tears.”
The leather came crashing down upon my breast again, licking my nipple with its painful bite. He repeated the action again on the other breast, and then again, and again, and again.
My body flinched, though my soul did not.
I stared down at my red and raw flesh and examined his work out of morbid intrigue. The fiery pain was so foreign to me, that I almost felt detached from this outer shell of mine.
An unexpected gasp laced with a hint of a moan released from my lips when Troylus returned his attack onto my pussy which still quivered from the lashing only a short time ago. The sound of leather connecting with vulnerable flesh echoed through the torture chamber.
The only other sound was me.
I couldn’t help it.
No matter how strong I tried to be, and how much I fought not to utter even the slightest sound of discomfort, the gasps and even hisses of pain emerged. Damn Troylus to hell for causing me to act like a mere mortal female.
