Bloodstone Ch. 01

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Finding the marked prize.
4.8k words
4.36
25.4k
43

Part 1 of the 15 part series

Updated 06/07/2023
Created 11/08/2015
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Author's Note:

This is another story that I had returned from the publisher once the contract date was up, so once more I am going to repost it. I hope you enjoy!

*****

The tiny village was wrapped in slumber. Its thick walls were secured to keep out the beasts and those who sought to harm those residing there. Inside the walls, small shacks made of thatch formed a ring around the bigger, nicer houses that held the dignitaries or those who had money and could afford them. In the very center of the village was the mayor's home, a multistory dwelling that held the mayor and his fat wife as well as their beautiful daughter.

The attack came at night while the village slept; the watchers on the wall too much at ease since it had been so quiet of late. One lone scout slunk through the shadows toward the center of the village, finding the home of the mayor of the small village. He came in through an unbarred window, slicing at the mayor's sleeping form. The mayor woke for just an instant, just as the intruder sliced his throat, leaving him gurgling in his own blood.

His wife fared little better, though she slept through the attack, not even flinching when a sword was thrust through her heart. He left them there, blood dripping from their wounds, soaking through the linen bed clothes and puddling on the rushes covered floor of the house.

His eyes wandered through the richly appointed rooms, searching for the most treasured of items in the house. He found her—a young girl of eighteen summers sound asleep in her bed. A smile formed upon his mottled face.

She was beautiful, golden and pink and cream. Her skin was flawless and slightly rosy with sleep. Her breasts rose and fell with her slumberous breathes under the linen shift that she wore. It clung to her curves as she'd kicked off the blankets, molding to her rounded hips and giving hint to the color of her nipples in the light of the fire that burned brightly in her room.

Clasping a hand over her mouth, the scout lifted her in his arms, binding her in the blankets so that she could not move. He carried the girl quickly and easily through the house and slipped out the front door then kept to the shadows.

He was in and out so quickly that his presence was like a nightmare: a shadowed dream, slipping through the night to haunt minds and terrify children. His burden barely registered upon him, his mind set as it was to do his master's bidding. Even as she kicked and squirmed in his arms, he never lost sight of his duty to bring the marked one to his master .

The road flew behind him as he ran lightly down the paths outside the gates of the village. The moon touched the night with an aura of silver, creating patterns of evil creatures from the shadows of the bare trees. He passed them by with nary a glance...running...always running.

He had a mighty stitch in his side and his breath whistled from his over-taxed lungs but he dared not stop. Night was quickly coming to an end and he could not be found on these paths with the sun's dawning.

"Quiet." His voice was a harsh hiss.. "Quiet or I shall find a way to make you quiet."

The girl, though slight, was strong. She fought against her captor, kicked and flayed and tossed her head until the blanket loosened around her mouth. Then she screamed, a sound full of rage and terror.

"I killed your parents, girl, not much would stop me from gutting you as well."

The threat, instead of halting her wriggling, set her determination. She managed to uncover her hands, her breath showing white in the cold night air as she pushed and hit at the ugly man who held her captive.

"You lie," she screamed, unwilling to believe that her beloved parents were gone. "Tell me you lie." She slapped at his head.

A roar split the night and a cold chill swept over the man. "Quiet!" His voice grew louder as he ordered the girl again. He didn't want to draw notice to himself and give the beast a chance to hunt him.

The roar sounded closer and he added speed to his already over-taxed legs, stumbling down the trail as the sound of death's roar grew closer with every moment.

The girl saw the beast first. It was one of the big lions, its head surrounded by a thick ruff of black fur. Its fangs were huge and glittered in the moonlight and the beginning light of dawn. With paws the size of dinner plates, it padded along behind them and grew closer with every step.

Her captor glanced over his shoulder, his eyes wide. He had but a bit more to get the girl to the castle and his awaiting master. Keeping one eye on the beast, he tried once more to increase his speed, but it was nigh on impossible. His chest heaved, his legs shook as he forced them to move. A hint of dawn colored the eastern sky, alerting him of more dangers than just the beast behind him.

"Arghhh," he growled loudly, rushing forward even faster. The huge black gate of his master's fortress was ahead and he called out quickly. Fierce and ugly beasts stood upon the wall, bows at the ready even as they notched their arrows. "I bring the girl," he shouted.

The wide black gate moved slowly, opening just enough for him to squeeze through with his prize. As it closed behind him, he could hear the great cat growl, roaring its loss to the world in general. His chest rose and fell as he fought to catch his breath; finally he pushed away from the gate, his prize still slung over his shoulder.

"I must see the master. I bring him a great gift."

"I shall be the judge of that." The master appeared in the doorway of the ancient keep and waved him in even as the first ray of dawn's light touched the ground. The gate shimmered in the light, growing wispy and eerie until the great fortress disappeared from sight, leaving untouched forests and a path to nowhere in its wake. The great lion with its huge ruff of black fur shook then roared its fury, sniffing and pawing at the ground where the gate had been.

Nigel moved forward, his deference in every ounce of his posture as he capered in front of the master who now sat on his huge black throne. "It is the girl, master. I bring you the one you've sought."

"Show me!" The order was barked and harsh. He moved closer and watched as the squat man laid the girl gently upon the ground. He unwrapped her with a toss of his arm.

For an instant, the master was spellbound at the beauty brought before him. Her hair was so light to gleam silver in the dim light of the flaming torches. Her eyes were the blue of the ocean waves that splashed along the shore. Her body was lush, dressed in naught but a thin layer of linen that gave hint to the color of her nipples as well as the bountiful beauty of her legs and that small mound that lay between.

She fought with the long thick tresses of her hair, finally pushing them out of her face so that she could see her captor. She gifted the master with a fierce glance that threatened harm to him if he didn't stay away from her.

"Rise, girl, stand before me as is befitting of the one who shall reign beside me."

"There is nothing you could say that would make me reign with you." She rose to her feet, not eager to face her captors in a tangled mess of blankets. "I insist you return me to my parents' home."

The master looked over to where Nigel stood. His dark brow was cocked and a question was in his eyes. Nigel took his finger and slashed it through the air by his throat.

"Your parents, my pretty one, are dead. There is no going back for you now."

"What?" Luria Bloodstone felt her heart fall and a sob grew in her chest. "You're lying. I won't believe you unless you show me proof."

"Nigel, show our guest your sword."

Nigel pulled the short sword from a filthy sheath, smiling as he showed the girl the blood that stained the battered blade. "I used this to kill them, child. They are dead."

Luria's stomach turned and she fell to her knees, staring at the bloodstained sword. "No." Her voice was a bare whisper and she shook her pretty head. "No, it is not theirs. It cannot be theirs."

"Rise girl." The master quickly grew tired of her drama. "I must know. Do you bear the mark?" He was eager to know for sure that this was indeed the bride he'd been promised, the one who would bear his child and give him the power he'd been promised so long ago. She was beautiful, this girl, and he couldn't help hoping that this time it would truly be her.

"What mark?" Luria's mind was on her parents and their deaths and she barely paid attention to the man before her.

"Come here, child." He held his hand out. Luria did as he asked, unaware of what he planned for her. "Come and let me see."

She moved closer her tears now falling freely from her eyes. Taking his hand, she stepped up on the dais with him until she was between his knees. He was a handsome man, with sharp emerald green eyes that seemed to see into her soul. His hair was dark, thick and hung to his shoulders in a shaggy display that seemed to suit him well. He wore leather pants that clung to his hips, a heavily decorated codpiece cupping his manhood. On his wide chest he wore a leather hauberk, links of thin golden chain closing the neckline of the thickly padded garment. It made him look immense.

"Stand still here, girl. I must see for myself if the mark does exist upon your body. You won't be hurt." He hurriedly unlaced the front of the linen that was the only protection she held against being completely nude. Her hands came up, clutching the fabric in her fists until he spoke two soft words. Then it was as if a magical force grabbed her wrists and forced them to her sides to hold them there no matter how hard she struggled. "Be still!"

Blood filled her cheeks as she realized her breasts were exposed to his sight, the linen shift had been drawn down her arms to catch upon her slender waist.

"I beg of you, please sir, do not dishonor me here where all can see." She nodded her head in the direction of the full court of men that were seated behind her.

"I look for the mark, 'tis all. No one shall dishonor you here." Even as he spoke, he lifted the heavy mounds of her breasts and his thumb brushed repeatedly across her nipple. He watched as it hardened with eager eyes. As if he couldn't help himself, he sat forward in his chair and brought her nipple to his mouth with a soft moan. He lapped at the tender flesh and bit gently upon the hardened tip to taste her sweetness.

His head moved to the other breast, his fingers playing with the wet tip he'd just left. "So sweet, you taste so sweet, pretty one. I'm sorry but I cannot help myself." He couldn't, as much as he could help the flesh of his cock from growing hard inside his breeches. It pushed at the conical shaped codpiece he wore, raising the hard leather about an inch.

Luria cried out, shame, horror and pleasure mixing inside of her until she didn't know what to feel. A strange urgency filled her, a need to pull his head closer, to straddle his thighs and rub her sex against him until the throbbing between them went away. Her hips twitched and she felt his hands pull her closer, his mouth opening to take as much of her breast as he could into his mouth.

"Please." She moaned and her hands fidgeted before coming to rest against his wide shoulders. "Please, I do not understand these feelings."

He lifted his head and released her soft flesh from the heat of his mouth. The ocean blue of her eyes revealed her upset. He clamped an iron hand down on his lust and forced her back a step. "I am sorry, Luria, your beauty was too much to withstand." He closed his eyes, taking a few deep breaths until he could look at her and not shake with lust.

With a clinical eye, he scanned the skin of her chest and stomach but other than the bruises left by his mouth on her breasts there was nothing. "I am sorry, Luria, I must strip you bare." Before she could react to his words, he pulled hard on the shift, hearing it rip and fall to pieces around her. Her hips were full, womanly with a tuft of white blonde curls that hid her sex. He turned her to face the court, hearing the sighs of his men as they gazed upon her virginal beauty. More than one man's hand went to his groin, rubbing furtively at their hardening cocks.

He couldn't blame them. He felt as if he would explode himself. His hands traced down her slender spine and followed the line to where her hips bloomed. Her ass was round, supple and firm, each cheek a perfect handful—perfect for lifting and lowering her down on his cock. He parted the two cheeks carefully and his finger slid down the sleek gash. Her rosebud was tightly furled and she flinched when his fingers roamed over it. He teased her by pushing against her gently, instigating his finger barely inside the heat of her body.

"What is this that you do?" Luria's hands rose to try and hide her body from the avid eyes of the men before her. She tried to jerk away, only to be drawn back and that finger pushed inside even further. She supposed it should hurt, but she felt no pain, only a strange fullness in her bowels and a sleek kind of pleasure that made her thighs feel weak and damp.

"Stand still, Luria. I will be through soon." He put his hand on her upper back, pushing forward until she understood he wanted her to bend at the waist. That position opened her so that he could see her sex from behind. It also left her breasts hanging and her hair falling into her face. She glanced up at the men and watched as some of them pulled aside codpieces and openly stroked their rigid staffs.

She wasn't that much of an innocent that she didn't know what the men were doing. She'd seen men of her village do the same when she went to the river to bathe. But there it never made her feel dirty or as humiliated as this. Perhaps it was his finger, now firmly lodged in her backside, or the other hand that was parting her sex. She moaned as he bumped against that part of her body that always brought her such pleasure at night in her bed when she'd allow her hands to roam over her own flesh. Her hips pushed back, wanting more; wanting him to bring her the kind of pleasure she brought herself.

"You are virgin," he whispered, almost in awe as he brought his face closer to her sex and breathed in the heady aroma of her arousal.

"Yes, I am a maiden, sir. You should not be touching me like this." Her voice rose as she spoke and she squeaked when she felt the touch of something else, something thicker than his finger, wet and wriggling almost like ... a tongue? "What are you doing?"

He ran his tongue over her sopping sex once more, feeling her shiver and her thighs shake. He wanted nothing more than to pull her down on top of him, plunge through that tiny membrane of skin that kept her virgin and pour himself into her. But he dare not, not unless she bore the mark. It was ordained that she who held the mark would be his bride. She would carry his child and would be beside him as he carried out his evil plans. He needed her.

Then he saw it. There on the inside of her left thigh, the sign he was looking for. It was in the shape of an animal paw: four tiny dots of red.

"You bear the mark! You shall be my bride."

"No!" She tried to twist away from his hard hands and the tempting teasing of his mouth. "I won't."

"You will." He reached down and pulled away the hard leather that kept him caged. He pulled her down so she sat just above his hardness and let it rest between her thighs. The heat of her cunt felt incredibly perfect against his cock. "It is prophecy." He filled his hands with her breasts and pulled on the generous fullness of her nipples. "You will be mine and you will give me children. They shall be endowed with your gifts and mine."

She cried out in revulsion even as her body undulated against the hard flesh that rose in front of her sex. A shiver shuddered through her as a small climax took her body, stealing her breath. The things he was doing were more than her poor body could fight even though she loathed him and everything he stood for. He was dark magic, vindictive and vengeful. His aura pulsed with evil, thick black and terrifying.

But his hands sent shudders of longing and need through her as they skillfully caressed her breasts, one sliding down her flat stomach to the "v" of her thighs, pushing between her full lower lips until he found that kernel of flesh that brought her such pleasure.

"Your lips say no, but your body is begging for mine." He whispered into her ear as she leaned back against him, her body moving seductively against his. "I shall take you here, where all may see." His tongue came out to lick at the sensitive whorl of her ear. "Your virgin's blood will be sacrificed upon my cock this dawn and my power shall grow tenfold."

"No! You promised not to dishonor me here. Taking me without the tidings and blessings of a priest would be the ultimate dishonorable act."

"It matters little if before or after the act." His breath came in short, heavy bursts. For even as she argued, her body moved over him, rubbing against the hard flesh of his cock, pushing against him as if she, too, couldn't wait to feel him inside of her. "You shall be mine." He lifted her by the waist, situating her so that she was above his waiting cock. Then with little care, he pushed her down, tearing through her hymen with one thrust.

Luria screamed, the pain overwhelming but over as fast as it had occurred. There was a fullness inside of her she'd never expected, rubbing at her throbbing flesh that moistened to greet his invading cock. She heard his groan, even as she felt his hands lift her once more, before dropping her down further onto his hard staff.

"Move over me," he ordered, placing her hands on his spread knees. He waited until she sat forward, her hips moving, her body starting to rock up and down on him. "That's it," he groaned.

She did as he ordered, unable to help herself. Her body was on fire, need poured through her, making her heart race and her blood rush through her veins. She could feel him inside of her, his cock hard, filling her. She wanted nothing more than to tear herself away and find a knife, to kill this monster who was taking such offensive use of her body against her will. But she did nothing more than what he ordered, rising and falling, impaling herself on his staff and hearing him moan his pleasure.

Her eyes roamed the room, wildly searching for escape. His men were openly pleasuring themselves, one having captured a castle wench who'd brought the master his morning fare. She was bent between two of his men, her skirts thrown up over her back, her mouth being made use of as well, another receptacle for their torrid lusts.

She changed the angle of her thrusts, rubbing her clit against his cock with every stroke until she was crying out, begging for the pleasure that tore into her soul, just beyond her reach.

"Faster," he growled, his nails running over her back, leaving red marks on the pale beauty of her skin. "Fuck me faster, Luria."

Tears of pain, of disgust for herself, spilled down her flushed cheeks, dropping to her bared breasts. One drop clung to her nipple, hanging there even as she moved. She saw Nigel, her captor eyeing that drop, his huge, disgusting phallus dripping in his hands as he pulled upon it.

"Master," he called over the sounds of rutting in the room. "May I taste of her tears?"

"Would you like that?" the dark lord asked of Luria, nodding his head toward Nigel. "Would you enjoy the feel of his lips upon you, drying the path of your tears?"

"No," Luria whimpered, begging. She couldn't stand the thought of him touching her, not like that, not now when the touch of lips might send her over the edge. "Please, not that."

"My bride-to-be doesn't seem to want to have anything to do with you, Nigel. But you do deserve a reward for finding this treasured beauty for me." His hand reached around Luria and she felt him pressing his chest against her back. He cupped her breasts, holding her firmly against him, buried deep inside of her. "Come Nigel, taste the sweetness of her tears but once."

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