The Dark Knight
By Angela Knight
It was night when I left the city, my bedroll slung across my back, my wages a weight of gold at my belt. Behind me I could hear feminine screams, triumphant male bellows, the crackle of burning buildings.
The sack of Trovan's capital had begun.
I had fought for this victory as hard as any mercenary in milord Britar's service, but I had no taste for the spoils. Nor have I ever had such a taste; I feel far too much sympathy for the women, warrior maid that I am. Sympathy -- and perhaps something else.
For among the conquerors this night is Kaska, taking his dark pleasures in the name of his dark god. Kaska, who for a year was my sword brother, though in all logic a Maid and a follower of the Dark One could never be anything but enemies. It's said, after all, that the god of conquest loves nothing so much as the moans of a defeated Maid; I would have expected Kaska to challenge me at the first opportunity. Yet we fought side by side for six months before I learned what he was.
When I asked him why he hadn't called me out, he told me, "We are contracted to the same master; in honor, I couldn't deprive milord Britar of one of his warriors." Then he gave me a slow, white smile. "But if I'd met you on the field of battle, the Dark One would still be savoring the nightly sacrifice of your cries."
Ignoring a trickle of heat at the thought, I tossed my head. "More like your god would be savoring the acid gall of disappointment."
His smile had merely broadened.
Now I suspected he'd only been kind, perhaps sensing my feelings for him. How could it be otherwise? I would have known if he'd felt something deeper for me; Kaska was too bold to hide his desires.
For months we'd watched each other's backs, fought shoulder to shoulder, even shared a tent, yet never had he made the slightest advance to me. Now, trudging away from Trovan's burning city, I suspected he'd simply felt no attraction at all. Warrior that I am, almost as tall as a man -- though not so tall as Kaska himself -- lean muscled and combat toughened, I bear no resemblance at all to the petite blonde captive he'd enjoyed three days before.
We'd been ranging in advance of the army at the time, just the pair of us, when we'd caught her sneaking toward the city carrying a report of milord's troop strength. Evidently she'd been posing as a camp follower.
She broke quickly enough, telling Kaska everything he wanted to know before he even had a chance to begin interrogating her. I suspect that disappointed him; the Dark One's warriors are said to relish such opportunities. But if so, he hid his disappointment well, stripping her slim body and binding her hand and foot.
I started to slip out of the tent then, but he looked up at me. "Stay, Matia. Though you're a warrior indeed, this is one pleasure of conquest you'll never know."
Nor, in truth, did I have any desire to know it. Yet then he began to strip, and I was caught. Kaska, though he could be as shameless as any other warrior, was modest around me. True, I'd secretly admired the width of his muscled shoulders, the strength of his powerful thighs, the rippled muscle of his abdomen, but I'd never seen the bare, hard thrust of his cock, and the prospect intrigued me.
I was not disappointed. His flesh blade was every bit as thick and long as my secret dreams; the spy whimpered a bit as he turned back toward her, the sound mingling fear and anticipation. I half expected him to fall on her and begin thrusting like the bull his cock suggested, but I'd underestimated him. Instead, Kaska went about seducing his captive, sipping delicately at her small, pert breasts until my own much larger ones ached.
A big hand slid between her thighs, stroking her pink petals and fingering her bud until they began to glisten with her passion. She moaned, tossing her head, fine blonde hair swirling around her face.
Suddenly I realized my own hand was rubbing against my mound, the other brushing one breast. I swallowed.
Abruptly Kaska rolled the little spy over on her belly. Looking up, he locked his crystalline blue gaze into mine. "There is a legend among the Dark Warriors," he said, in a voice as rich and hot as whiskey. "When the Dark One made women, he gave them two openings. One, he told the first brothers, was for pleasure and the getting of children. But the other was forbidden to the common run of men. Do you know why?"
I licked my lips. "No."
"Because he wanted to make sure his Dark Warriors would have tight virgin holes to enjoy after a conquest. To this day, the symbol of victory in our language is derived from the image of a kneeling bound woman." Using both big hands, he spread his captive's pale, narrow cheeks. "Look at her. So lovely, so female. So helpless. She knows she's soon going to feel my hard cock in her ass, and there's nothing she can do about it. It's my right as her conqueror." Extending a big forefinger, he touched her tightly furled anal bud. Slowly, he began to press. She moaned as it sank in a bare fraction. He looked up and smiled into my eyes, his own burning and bright. "Oh, she's tight, Matia. She's going to be a delicious fuck."
And she was. He greased her well with a jar of butter, taking his time, describing to me all the while how hard his cock was, and how tight she would feel around him. Then, as I watched dry-mouthed, he mounted her and pressed the thick, round head of his flesh blade to her backhole. He entered very slowly, the tiny pink anus stretching desperately to accommodate his size, until he looked as though he'd split her open. And indeed, her moans and whimpers sounded as though he was doing just that.
But as he rocked in her, I heard the tone of her cries change, taking on a note of shamed hunger. Finally, I saw her begin to lift her hips for his entry, until she was thrusting hungrily up at the cock that was so brutally reaming her. She screamed out her climax just before his bellow of triumph.
My heart was pounding hard as I turned to find to my own pallet, but he called my name before I could crawl into it.
He'd withdrawn, and was holding his limp victim's cheeks apart. Her abused anus pouted, red and swollen from the hard fucking he'd given it, glistening with butter and pearly drops of male cum. "After we take Trovan," he told me softly, "every pretty woman in the city will end the night like this."
At last, I escaped to my pallet. But though Kaska and his spy were soon deeply asleep, I tossed and rolled, remembering the way his massive flesh blade spread her to splitting.
And, may the goddess forgive me, in the depths of my heart I wished that brutalized backhole was my own.
I would have expected Kaska to keep the little blonde spy for his own use, but the next morning he found another dark warrior in milord's service and gave her to him. The fellow gave me an odd, amused look and took her away.
Now I puzzled over that. Perhaps Kaska expected to find other captives during the sack of Trovan.
"Matia."
I felt a leap of joy at that deep, familiar voice, and turned with a smile. "Kaska. I expected you to be buried to the balls in someone's ass by now."
He drew his sword. "Oh, I will be soon enough."
My jaw dropped as I stared at him. He'd cleaned away the sweat and blood of combat, and his long black hair was swept back and tied neatly. There was a white grin of anticipation on his handsome, sharply cut face. From the way he held his blade, I knew he was serious. "You're challenging me? But I thought ...."
"You are no longer in Lord Britar's service, Matia. And neither am I."
The light began to dawn. "All this time, you've been deceiving me." Rage surged through me, burning away the cold shock. My hand flew to my side, and I jerked my sword from my scabbard. "Your god will taste disappointment today."
His blue eyes widened as I drove at him, swinging my blade in a wide, deadly arc. His surprise was such that he barely parried my attack in time.
"Such astonishment," I snarled. "Did you think that after pretending friends
hip all these months, you'd be safe from me? Did you expect me to go to my knees and spread my own cheeks for your pleasure? The god fuck you, Dark Spawn!"
He recovered quickly, meeting my hard, slashing attack with his own steady blade. "Our friendship was never pretense," he grunted, deflecting my wild swing at his head. "Yes, perhaps at first. When I came upon you fighting those brigands, I meant to challenge you after we killed them."
"But you didn't. Did you think I'd be too much for you?" I swung again, but he parried it with an insulting ease that demonstrated just how foolish that idea was.
"You were hurt in the fight, if you'll recall," he said coolly, blocking a thrust at his groin. "I could hardly have challenged an injured Maid; the god would not have been pleased. And then, as I was tending you, you told me you were in Britar's pay. After that, challenge was out of the question."
"But why deceive me for all these weeks? You could have hunted me down after I left Britar's employ; it wasn't necessary to lie."
"I never lied." I could see the first flares of temper in his eyes. "I protected you as tenderly as any man protects his woman."
Realizing I couldn't get through his guard, I pulled back and began to circle around him, looking for an opening in his guard.
"Now I have a question," he said, his eyes blue and watchful. "You stayed with me, even shared a tent with me, even after I let you know I was one of the Dark Brethren. Yet you know how we prize the Maids; the Dark One prefers their sacrifice over any other, because you serve Jitai, goddess of the night. The conquest of one of you puts her at his mercy. Yet knowing that, you stayed. Why, Matia?"
"You were my sword brother," I said bitterly. "I did not think you would treat me so."
"Then you deceived yourself. I warned you the only thing that kept me from taking you was our mutual service. Yet you stayed. Days ago I even demonstrated what I would do to you with that little blonde, yet still you stayed, though you knew you'd be leaving Britar's service, and would no longer be exempt from challenge."
"I knew nothing of the kind," I snarled.
"You did know." He smiled slowly. "And what's more, I think you want it. The idea of being bound and helpless while my cock tunnels up your virgin ass makes you burn."
"Bastard!"
"Did you think I didn't see the look on your face as you watched me spread that girl? Did you think I didn't notice your hands between your thighs as I forced my shaft into her untouched backhole?"
I sung my sword in a singing arch, but he parried it with ease.
"She was so tight, Matia," he purred, "so hot and well-greased, and she gripped my cock so hard. Yet the way you watched me drill her was what truly made me burn."
I hacked at him, but he danced aside.
"You wished it was you, Matia. I could see it in your eyes."
"I'm going to kill you, you son of a whore!" I lunged at him.
"You wanted me to forget her and fling you down and ram my hard cock right up your hungry little backhole..."
Rage made me slow. This time, when I trust my sword at him, I was too late pulling back. He caught the blade in the quillions of his own weapon, twisted, wrenched upward.
The sword flew out of my hand and landed fifty feet away.
I was still staring at it when his muscled arm snapped around my waist, jerking me against every hard inch of him. I felt the cold steel of his blade brush my throat. Dragging my head around, I looked up into his eyes. Up into lust and hot male triumph.
I froze, all my strength draining away.
"How many nights have I dreamed of this moment," he said, his voice rumbling. "How many nights have I watched you as you slept, staring at your high, round breasts, your long thighs. Watching you roll over, seeing the way your muscular little butt curved in sweet invitation. And I'd grab my cock and fist it hard, dreaming of this ..."
With a wrench of his powerful shoulders, he spun me around and began to force me face down on the ground. Dazed, I struggled weakly. Was he going to take me now? Here? Where anyone could see?
He caught my arms, brought them behind my back. Twisting, I watched him pull out a length of rope and began quickly tying my wrists. I knew I should fight -- if it had been anyone else, I'd be struggling like a hellcat -- but instead I lay still, paralyzed.
"The night after I took the blonde, you got very drunk. I'd never seen you drink like that; I wondered what you were trying not to think about." He was roping my ankles now. "You passed out. I'd had a bit to drink myself, and when I looked over and saw the way you lay on your belly, tunic pulled up to bare an ass clad only in a rump cloth, I couldn't resist. I went to you and pulled the cloth away, and looked my fill at that round, tight little butt.
"I smelled something, a hint of female musk. When I reached between your thighs, I found you hot and wet. And tight, so tight, tight as maid indeed. God, I was tempted. My cock was hard as a sword. I couldn't resist spreading your cheeks for a look at your other opening. My fingers were creamy from your pussy, but still your tiny anus resisted my forefinger. You were tighter even than the blonde.
With my other hand, I took hold of my aching rod and began to seek relief while I explored your backhole. Sliding my finger in and out, watching the way you pulled and sucked at it, I imagined you were bound and waiting for me to take you. So there I was, fisting my cock and finger-fucking you, when suddenly you moaned my name.
"I froze, cold sober, wondering how I was going to explain this to you. But then you lifted your hips so that my finger slid even more deeply into your backhole. 'Kaska,' you whimpered. I knew then what you were dreaming of that had made you so wet and hot."
He straddled me and deliberately pressed his hips into my rump. Feeling how thick he was, I fought a moan.
"So I began to finger your rectum in earnest, rubbing your clit with my thumb while I stretched you with long strokes, first one finger, then two, then three, jerking hard at my cock while I watched your anus struggle to take me."
I barely suppressed the urge to grind up into his menacing hardness.
"And all the while you kept pumping your hips, taking my fingers and groaning. You had to have been awake, yet the next morning I could tell you didn't remember any of it."
"I thought it was a dream," I whispered, shivering. "Even when I felt the soreness, I thought I'd imagined it."
He laughed, a liquor-hot purl of sound, and lifted off me so he could turn me over to face him. "Well, you certainly won't be imagining your sore little backhole tomorrow. You'll be lucky if you can walk."
Kaska's eyes were fever bright as he looked down at me; eyes that owned me and savored that ownership, anticipating the possession to come with frank lust. "I gave you your first anal orgasm that night. I could feel you squeezing my fingers as you came. And then, Matia," He crouched low over me until his face was inches from mine, "...And then I withdrew my fingers and held your cheeks apart so I could look at your swollen bung as I climaxed. And I made sure I hit that tiny pink virgin target with every single jet of sperm, until my cum ran down your crack in a white stream.
"But tonight it all goes in you, as deep as I can reach; every single drop. Tonight anything that rolls down your ass will be leaking out of a well-reamed hole."
Then his mouth dropped down to mine, and his kissed me, hard, deep, hungry, a kiss of conquest and ownership.
Helpless, limp with desire, I opened my lips and let him take me as he would, accepting each deep thrust of his tongue, moaning as he bit delicately at my mouth. All I could think about was the image he'd created; Kaska, looming over me in the darkness, examining and penetrating my backhole, masturbating as he planned to take me prisoner and ream that virgin orifice with his enormous cock.
When he suddenly got to his feet and bent to throw me over his shoulder, I didn't struggle, though I knew I must look like some helpless female captive on her way to be raped by her conqueror.
That was, after all, exactly what I was.
He carried me back into the city
, caressing my bottom and thighs as he walked. I shivered, too dazed with lust to do anything else. Finally I roused myself enough to ask, "Where are you taking me?"
"There's a Temple of the Dark One here. The Brethren in Britar's service have appropriated it for our own use."
At that I shivered again. It was said that any woman who went into the Dark One's temple came out as a warrior's slave. I'd suspected that was the fate Kaska intended for me; now I knew. I considered, briefly, putting up a fight. Then he caressed me again, and the feeling of his hand stroking my bare thigh sent such lightning arching through me I knew there was no point.
I'd been Kaska's slave for months. I just hadn't realized it until now.
The Dark One's temple lay in the Temple Quarter , a brooding, black marble building with thick stone columns topped in rounded capitals. Looking at them over Kaska's shoulder, I realized they resembled nothing so much as erect cocks. Still, it was a surprisingly sedate building, for such a den of sex and blood.
At least I thought so until he carried me inside, when it became all too obvious just what kind of god the Dark One was. Near the entrance the black walls were sculpted and brightly painted with scenes of battle; depictions of warriors hacking their way through the ranks of lesser men, splitting skulls and ripping bellies. In the center, they stormed a great city, and rode triumphant through its gates.
From there on, the walls depicted raw sexual conquest; bound women writhing under the cane, having their nipples tortured, being fucked and sodomized, submissively sucking hard warrior cocks.
And at the center of it stood a statue of the Dark One. Carved in black ebony, he stood naked and massively muscled, his twin cocks thrusting outward, one set below the other. In his right hand he carried two severed male heads. In the other, he held two ropes, each tied loosely around the neck of a naked female captive. The first one knelt beside him, staring up at him in supplication as she lifted her bare breasts to him in offering. The second crouched with her head down and her curving ass in the air, holding her rump spread with her hands, looking over her shoulder at him with a pleading expression. Yet the idol's attention seemed focused on the alter before him, where a very living woman lay, bound bottom upward.
The Dark Knight Page 1
