The Toll

by Jeanette Lynn

“Who is... Oh, the troll! He’s gone?”

  I would have done anything to hear and see him like this months ago, so pleased and eager, genuinely happy to see me. Now, I just felt mildly surprised, and surprisingly hollow. I’m empty, I thought. With no way to fill it.

  Tilting my head, I nodded, “Yes.”

  “He’s dead?” Papa eyed me critically, as if to judge for a lie.

  “I don’t know.” Clearing my throat audibly, I shrugged, feeling despondent. “He just left. I really don’t know. I hope so,” I muttered. For his sake.

  Papa’s face lit up and he took my sack from my hands.

  “Mamma! Daphie’s home! She’s home for good! The troll left! Our girl’s home!”

  Home, I thought, letting him lead me in. Never really had one of those—not really.

  Must be nice.

  ****

  A few hours later, having sat through Papa talking a mile a minute, as if he hadn’t seen me in years and had to cram it all into one sitting, I ate Mamma’s overly dried out pot roast, choking it down as I pretended to listen intently.

  As I answered him with noncommittal noises, and the appropriate nod or head shake, wherever it applied, my mind wandered to the crazy haze of my short lived affair with a mentally unstable troll.

  Shame, really, that the affair, as I’ve decided to refer to it, will probably be the reigning highlight of my life—the wicked sex, not the thereafter—and it was decidedly wicked for me—forbidden—so I let myself relive it in fragments, cutting out all the bad in between.

  Definitely unstable, I thought, tracing the worn out grooves in the old wooden table I was seated at, my hand sliding down and straying to my dress pocket. Running my hands over it, I fingered it through my dress, the small piece of torn paper burning a hole in my pocket.

  Yes, I thought, running my other hand absently over my shoulder, over the scars I’d now carry, a constant reminder of his betrayal, most definitely unstable.

  ****

  Having bid everyone goodnight, begging off, using a headache as an excuse, I went to my room and shut the door.

  I readied for bed and unfolded my knotted up dress, carefully unpacking everything and putting it away.

  When I reached a shirt I didn’t remember putting in there, against my better judgment, I indulged myself, just this once, picking it up and shoving it up against my nose, inhaling deeply.

  It was his.

  Tears pricked my eyes at the wrongness of it, craving him after all he’d done to me, but I did, and the tears burned.

  Yelping quietly, I hopped back as something fell out, plopping with a thud and the heavy clink of coins. A second one followed, making me blink, staring down at it, stupefied. My eyes slowly widened as I went to pick them up, my mouth openly gaping in astonishment. There, having been nestled inconspicuously in between my belongings, were the two pouches I’d thrown at that odious lavender eyed troll, one black sack and one purple, plopping right down in front of me, nestled at my feet. Shaking my head, I backed away from them slowly, watching them closely, as if they might grow legs and crawl towards me.

  My eyes strayed to my hands, still clutching his oversized shirt. Expression pinching, I tossed it aside as if it had burned me, ignoring all three items in favor of unpacking and putting away my things.

  By the time I’d finished, I decided to kick the coin purses under my bed—I’ll deal with them tomorrow, once I’ve thought about it and feel rested—stuffing the shirt under my lumpy pillow, fresh with a new pillow case I didn’t recognize, hiding the evidence I couldn’t find it in myself to toss out.

  I’m weak, I thought, but I’ll deal with that later too.

  What Dreams Are These

  ‘How does it feel?’

  My eye fluttered in sleep, blue eyes rolling this way and that behind my closed lids, the familiar voice bringing me closer to a proper wakeful state.

  ‘Wake up. I’m talkin’ to ye.’

  My lids lifted cautiously and I slowly sat up. I was in Troll’s bed, my nightshirt rucked up around my thighs, his back to me as he stared sightlessly at the wall, hovering agitatedly at the end of the bed.

  “You left me,” I accused, realizing that I was, in fact, still sleeping.

  His head turned to me, my nightgown slipping off my shoulder as I raked my fingers through my messy hair.

  His eyes glowed eerily and he grinned—it wasn’t a nice one. Standing up, he laughed and walked towards me, a scrap of animal hide tied to his waist the only thing covering his man parts, exposing the rest of his massive body, as if out on display.

  “Tell me, luv,” he purred, his hand reaching out to touch the markings on my shoulder, “did it hurt yer wee feelin’s? Ketik says ye carried on somethin’ fierce. An’ all over a bit of markin’. I’m beginnin’ ta wonder ‘bout it...” He eyed me curiously, as if truly amused.

  It was as if he thought I was playing a game with him and he was trying to get one up on me, calling my bluff. I shot up and across the room, crouching down in a protective stance, my hands out, fingers curled up like claws as I glared at him. I both craved him and hated him, wanted him with my next breath, yet wanted to strangle his out of him.

  It was a horrible, messed up quandary I found myself in. I hated us both for it.

  “You know it did,” I hissed, done playing the willing victim. Something akin to uncertainty flickered in his eyes, but I let it go.

  I’ve given in too much, too easily in my life. Not this time.

  His expression quickly changed, frowning for a half second before he chuckled evilly, eyeing me heatedly as he slowly prowled towards me. “Good, then, ye brazen liar. Deserved it.”

  “And so will you when it catches up to you.”

  At my words, Troll stopped and stared, pausing as he cocked his head to the side. “When what catches up ta me?”

  “The dues you’ll have to pay for all the horrid, fucked up things you’ve done. The rights for all the wrongs you’ve committed, all the things you’ve done to me.”

  Snorting indelicately, the orange-eyed horse’s ass studied his wide, flat fingernails, peeking up at me, feigning boredom. “Still playing that game, are ye? Not even a sorry? An’ look at that, Miss high and mighty using a dirty word an’ all. What? No love? Only a... fuck.” Clucking his tongue, he hummed thoughtfully, glee entering his spiteful gaze. “What say ye, bonded? Have ye no words of love fer yer troll?”

  “You’re nothing to me.”

  “Oh? Well, those markin’s on yer skin says otherwise. Mmm. Ye an’ me, we’re goin’ ta suffer, together, fer the rest of our lives. Whether ye like it or no’. Ye can be sure, I’m goin’ ta make sure it’s the latter. Ye’ll pay fer what ye’ve done.” Nodding slowly, he tsk-tsk-ed me, smirking at the look on my face.

  Fuming silently, ears ringing, breath catching, I’d had enough.

  “I didn’t do anything to you!” I burst out.

  “Ye ruined me life!!” he bellowed back.

  “Well, la-dee-da! You ruined mine!!”

  He’d made his way across the room, storming towards me. “I wish I could choke ye,” he snarled, gripping my shoulders tight to pick me up.

  I kicked and fought, drawing blood and a deep, guttural growl out of him as I raked my nails down his sides. “And I wish you’d choke and die!!”

  Leaning in, he pressed me into the wall, and we both bared teeth. Roaring in my face as I screamed back, his lips smashed into mine. Reaching for him, I gripped his ears and growled against his lips, nipping it hard until it bled.

  Grunting, he pulled back and his tongue snuck out to run across it, grazing the streak of deep red dribbling down his chin.

  “Ye bit me.” The shock in his suddenly subdued voice was almost comical.

  “You attacked me. Kiss me without my permission, you oaf, and I’ll do it again!” I snapped.

  “Ye’re mean when ye’re feisty,” he grumbled, the hand gripping a troll-sized mitt-ful of my ass hitching me up higher.

&
nbsp; “Set me down.”

  “Canna,” he gritted out, returning to his usual, menacing, surly self.

  Squirming and grunting in his grasp, I wiggled around, trying to slowly untangle myself from his person. My legs, at some point, had wrapped around his thick waist, hooking at the small of his back.

  “Havena’ been gone even a day an’ I miss ye,” he snapped, squeezing his eyes shut tight and shaking his head, as if imparting some horrible, world ending truth.

  “Well, I’m not that fond of you either!”

  Panting, I gasped as he pressed his groin to mine, teasing me with slow, tempting sweeps of his length against my mons.

  “Want ta fuck ye so bad, nugget,” he groaned, fighting some internal battle with himself as he went from husky, determined lover to demonic ex-captor from hell.

  It was the strangest dream I’d ever had.

  This is a dream, I remembered, following on that thought, and I can do whatever I want in a dream, right?

  Feeling emboldened, I reached down between us and tore at the little leather string separating us, lifting the flap, gripping his shaft tightly in my fist as I pumped my hand up and down his length.

  He groaned and snarled, his fingers digging into my hips, but he didn’t stop me.

  “I want to ride you,” I whispered, licking the shell of his ear.

  His knees wobbled a little as I pumped him faster, keeping up my steady pump action until he stumbled back and plopped on the furs, the back of his legs hitting the pallet, sending him sailing.

  Crawling up, I straddled him, my fingers raking down his chest. “I’ve always wanted to try this.”

  Lining us up, I slowly, painstakingly impaled myself on him. My troll-lover let out a hoarse, choked cry as I ground down on him, quickening my release. Biting my lip to keep from crying out, I rubbed myself in slow, concentrated circles, stopping whenever it felt like he might come. He was so thick and full, filling me to the brim—almost beyond that. I felt stuffed.

  It was wonderful.

  “You can’t until I do,” I panted, those solid orange eyes opening to glare up at me.

  “Ye dinna have any say in wha’ I do or no’,” he challenged, gripping my hips and ramming up into me. Groaning gutturally, hips jerked spasmodically, he held himself still as he started to come, stopping my own orgasm dead in its tracks.

  Once finished, he picked me up and set me on the bed, rolling off as he walked across the room, adjusting himself as he covered his member with the small scrap of soft leather intended to do so.

  I gaped after him, spluttering as I shot up on the bed, kneeling with my hands up. “What... I...”

  His eyes lowered, half lidded, lazy and sated as he eyed me.

  “What’s the matter, luv, did I forget somethin’?”

  Incensed but bested, I almost hung my head, ashamed at myself for giving in yet again, but I fought it, forcing my head up, angry blue eyes meeting his equally.

  “Who’s hurting whom?” I clipped out. “Who has treated who despicably?” My finger shot up, pointing at him. “You stand there and judge me, without any explanation! You, who’s been nothing short of sadistic, then torture me as you see fit. Tell me, Troll, who’s the real villain in this piece?”

  “Do ye want another sack of coins, then? Or was tha’ time better than all the others, seein’ as ta how I’m so horrible an’ all?”

  The look on his face cured me of any and all stupid, girlish, silly notions I’d ever had about him, thinking he’d somehow be different underneath it all.

  No, he’s different alright, he’s the worst. He truly doesn’t care about anything. Nothing.

  “You’re a monster.” As I said the words right then, I truly meant them.

  He stopped chuckling mockingly, all at my expense, eyes narrowing shrewdly.

  “I hate you.” My words came out small and fleeting, as crushed as I felt right then. I let two or three tears track down my face, the last bit of emotion, the last piece of me I’d ever let him have. Pulling my knees up, I buried my face in them, hiccupping as I chanted softly, “You can’t hurt me anymore. You can’t. You aren’t real. Never again. Never.” Hiccupping out a sob, I closed my eyes and whispered it over and over, huddling down with my hands cupped over my ears as the sound of him making his way over hit me, rocking myself back and forth.

  He started saying something, his voice getting louder and louder, until he was thundering my name.

  Not to be deterred, I raised my voice right along with him, until I was screaming it.

  “Ye canna just shut me out!” he roared. “Ye’re mine! Ye hear? Look at me!” Large, very real feeling hands clamped down over mine, tugging as I ignored him in favor of my chant.

  “You can’t hurt me anymore!!” Arms flailing out, I shot up in bed, waking up, my mouth wide open, ending on a blood curdling scream.

  Mamma and Papa came rushing in, their eyes running wildly around the room as I curled up in a ball and sobbed.

  Someone put their candle out and I felt a small, frail, nightgown encased body slip in beside mine. The thin, bony hands of my mother ran soothingly through my hair, rocking along with me as she sang softly over the top of my head.

  “It’s alright, now, Daphie,” she whispered. “He can’t hurt you anymore. That’s right. It’s okay. It’s all done now. Sh...”

  But I knew, as she rocked me and eventually fell asleep herself, holding me tight as I lay there, wide awake, I knew, my dream was somehow very real, and he was still very capable of hurting me.

  The Dregs

  A voice called out to me, whispering my name softly, but I flinched, warding it off, even in sleep.

  It went on like that, night after night, my first inclination to subconsciously block the entreaty, mentally retreating far, far away from it. But on this night, it was more than persistent, railing at me for not acknowledging its existence.

  “I can’t,” I mumbled, rolling over in my sleep. “You’ll hurt me. Can’t. It hurts.”

  An animalistic snarl met my ears and my eyes popped open wide.

  My heart sped up and I thought a wild animal had snuck into my room. And it was my room.

  A warm body pressed into my back and I turned my head, shocked as a very familiar pair of hot, thick lips met mine.

  Fingers grasping for purchase, I gripped the sheet, fighting the urge to turn and kiss him back, his tongue sweeping in to run across mine hungrily, my blankets ripped back as thick, solid hands turned me for him, running up the length of my thighs.

  “Ah, gods, I’ve missed ye.”

  He wasted no time tearing my underthings off and working his way down my body, burying his face in my pussy.

  Sex throbbing, I cried out, clamping my legs around his head tight as he sucked on my clit, hot lips and warm breath driving me wild, his tongue dragging up and down my hidden pearl, growling at the first taste.

  His voice vibrated against my overly sensitized skin, sending sparks shooting up through me, burning me to my core.

  With a deep growl, he hefted himself over me and slid home just as I came, my sheath contracting and releasing rhythmically, his cock slipping easily through my slippery, convulsing depths.

  “Be as loud as ye want, luv, no one can hear us,” he groaned. “Ah, yes... so wet, so tight... Mine. Ah... jus’ like tha’... mmm.”

  I moaned and gripped at his head and neck as his thickened shaft pulled out and pressed back into me, slowly pistoning inside of me steadily.

  My lips met his in a fiery maelstrom as he pumped into me eagerly, his cock thickening to the point I thought I might burst as he sped up, meeting my greedy demands as I cried out, “Harder!” and, “More!”

  “Come for me,” he snarled into my throat, and then I did, feeling like my entire being, not just my body, shattered around him, glittering into a hundred, teeny tiny magnificent pieces, just as he did, growling out my name as he slammed into me and came.

  Shuddering in ecstasy, he fell atop me heavily when
he’d finished, nuzzling and nipping along the sensitive column of my throat, wrapping his arms around me tight as he mumbled sweetly in my ear.

  Still trembling in the aftermath, I started crying in earnest, swiping quickly at the evidence.

  Noticing the wetness gathering across my cheeks to trail down my face, he swiped a few of the stray ones away as I gripped his palm and kissed it, whispering those three little worlds you’re only allowed to say if you mean it.

  A small puff of air huffing out of him, he tensed and lifted his head. “What did ye say now?”

  “I can say whatever I want,” I sniffled, “I know, this time, that it isn’t real. It’s okay here.”

  Facing pulling down into a fearsome scowl, he pressed his weight into me a little, frowning disconcertedly. “Does this feel like a dream ta ye, nugget?”

  “No,” I easily agreed, “but I know it’s a dream.” Sniffling quietly, I shook my head when it looked like he was going to argue.

  “We’re in Mid-Realm. Tis a cross between Under and Hegtrag—that’s what Other call ye’re human realm.”

  Without answering, I shook my head. I knew a dream when I’ve lived one.

  “Then how do ye know it isna real?” he grumbled, making me smile. “An’ do ye dream of me often, then? If this isna real?”

  “Every night,” I admitted to the dream Gersthart unabashedly, the one who doesn’t hate me, the one I’d grown rather attached to. The one I ache for, for some blasted reason, and it bothers the hell out of me. The one who wouldn’t have hurt me like the real one had, abandoning and cursing me, treating me like a whore.

  “An’ how is this any different? How’s it unreal? How is it ye can tell, eh?”

  “That’s easy,” I smiled and reached up, savoring his touch as he nuzzled into my cupped palm, closing his eyes as I stroked along his smooth, squared jaw, “You don’t hate me. You look at me like... like...”

  He opened his eyes and met mine, that look of longing I’d realized too late was for me, peeking out at me.