Breaking the Barbarian Ch. 05

As I snarled out for my warriors to prepare their bows, I caught glimpses of torchlight on the far side of the moat. Hundreds of Etmorran militiamen had already gathered there, having surged forward once the gates had been taken.

Grozdan sputtered and shouted as he swam towards the shore.

"A barony to the man who saves me! I'll...marry one of your daughters and make her a duchess!"

The desperate pleas devolved into wet coughs as water splashed into his mouth.

None of the peasants moved.

"Hold," I said, raising a hand as Sorunna appeared at my side with a longbow in hand.

Grozdan swam closer to the shore. The peasants fanned out, weapons at the ready.

When the desperate duke's hand grasped the muddy shore, a peasant jabbed at his hand with the tip of his spear. Yelping, Grozdan flailed back and desperately swam further up the moat, trying to find a gap in the militia to swim ashore.

His desperate pleas turned to snarls and curses. Panting and growling, he swam back towards the other side of the moat. Sorunna loosed an arrow that sliced into the water mere feet from him. With another yelp he turned back.

They toyed with him for several minutes, forcing the tyrant to tread water and flail about in search of a safe spot to come ashore. Every time he neared the muddy ground, an arrow or spear would force him back.

Not a single peasant replied to any of his insults or offers.

"My brother died in fire and now the tyrant dies in water," I murmured, my gaze darting to the moon. "The gods do so love their poetic justice."

Grozdan's pleas and curses fell silent, replaced by desperate pants and sobs. After another half minute his head dipped beneath the water. A moment later he burst forth again, choking and gurgling.

Once more he dipped below.

After a few more twitches the duke fell still, drifting in the moat beneath the shadow of his accursed castle.

As the peasants erupted into wild cheers, I simply stared down at the floating corpse. It was not the precise conclusion to my oath that I had hoped for...

But it would more than suffice.

**

Saerkell, once the heart of Grozdan's tyranny, erupted into boisterous revelry. Ivor and his men brought up barrels of wine, Sorunna ignited a massive bonfire in the middle of the courtyard, and the nuns fanned out to tend to the wounded. Hundreds of people danced to the beat of lutes and drums, reveling in the duke's fall and Etmorra's liberation.

Through it all, I stood atop a half-ruined wall nearby, gazing down at the festivities and sipping at my wine.

"You seem to have a habit of brooding during celebrations like this," Miriam said from the shadows to my left.

Around her arm was a thick bandage, but it didn't seem to have slowed her down one bit. Thanks to the alchemical skill of her holy sisters, the wound would no doubt be fully healed by morning.

"What was your excuse the last time?" she continued. "Concern about Grozdan's men returning to Rikard's village, as I recall."

Her grin sparkled in the moonlight.

"No need for such worries now. Grozdan's dead. Etmorra is ours once more. So what troubles you?"

I glanced to the northern horizon. In the distance I could just barely make out the faint gleam of the starlit sea. Beyond it rested my homeland, where King Ulrik awaited word of my success and where my family longed for the chance to restore the clan's lost honor.

"Home. My quest is complete. My vow is fulfilled. Soon I shall stand before the witches and shamans of King Ulrik and attest to my task. The Red Omen clan shall be restored to its rightful place."

Miriam's smile widened.

"Then why do you sound so grim and forlorn? That's everything you wanted, isn't it?"

"Yes. And that is precisely the problem." I looked down at my arm, which still bore the painted red rune that had warded my body and soul. "Those oaths granted me clarity I'd never felt before. I was like a wolf tracking the scent of a deer. Now that the hunt is over, I feel lost. Listless."

"Everyone is a little bit lost," Miriam said. "Even those of us who have embraced the holy vows still have doubt about our purpose. Every so often I think of Asparra and the people I left behind, and though I'm glad I left the ugly life of a thief...the mind still wanders."

She patted my arm.

"And there is no shame in doubt. If anything, the doubt serves as a test. A lesson. A whetstone to sharpen our blades."

Together we stared out at the horizon for several minutes until she patted my rune-adorned arm.

"Come with me," she said, taking me by the hand.

She led me into a wing of the fortress that had been untouched by the fighting. The roof had caved in partially and there were massive holes in the floor. Torchlight and moonlight flickered down long dusty hallways.

The corridor ended in a large stone door covered with the holy writing and sigils of the Sisterhood. Within rested a small chamber; moonlight gleamed through stained-glass windows. Statues of Saint Morwenna flanked a stone pillar in the middle of the room.

"The Sisterhood used to assign nuns here full-time to tend to this sacred place, and we would make pilgrimages here every month. Duke Grozdan's predecessor grew bitter with the convent over a land dispute and so banned us from Saerkell, and obviously Grozdan never welcomed us back."

Sighing, Miriam stepped forward and brushed her fingers over the stone.

"Our scriptures say that this was the cell where Saint Morwenna was tortured. Where her pain unleashed revelation and enlightenment." She thumped her fist against the pillar. "This stone was where she was bound and broken. Where she ascended."

Moving slowly, so as not to disturb the sanctity of the holy place, I moved to Miriam's side and placed a sweaty hand upon the stone. It was quite warm, especially given the icy chill gripping the hallway behind me. The sacred collar around my neck tingled.

No. That was just a product of the exhaustion that had addled my senses.

"Before the feud with the Duke, this was where we would make our vows to commit ourselves to the Sisterhood. Torment and teasing, pain and submission...all leading to ascension."

I closed my eyes, picturing Miriam's lithe form pinned against the holy pillar, her whimpers and moans filling the sacred chamber.

"Your doubts about your future are understandable. But if you return here at dusk tomorrow, perhaps we can give you the strength to face such doubts. One last trial to endure. One last challenge to overcome."

Without another word, Miriam turned and left me alone in that sacred place.

I lingered for several minutes, one hand upon the pillar, the other on the collar, as my eyes absorbed the intricate details of the statues and stained windows.

**

As the revelry roared through the courtyard, I claimed a cot in the guards' barracks and drifted off to sleep. Grozdan haunted my dreams; the duke floated about in a moat of blood, snarling up at me and taunting me for how long I'd taken to defeat him. My ashen brother soon joined him, cursing me for leaving him to burn in that barn.

When I awoke at dawn, my heart troubled by those dreams, I assisted with guarding the prisoners, tending to the wounded, and sweeping the castle for any potential stragglers. Given how weary the others were from the night's revelry, I had quite a lot of work to do.

**

At dusk, I returned to the holy chamber to find Miriam, Isidora, and Catriona already kneeling upon the floor. Their veiled eyes were affixed upon the pillar that had once bound their saint.

None of them said a word to me as I entered. After a long, nervous moment I stepped forward and knelt beside Isidora.

"Usually a man would not be granted the beauty of this rite," Isidora said, her voice quiet and firm. "And even a seasoned acolyte would need to undergo many trials and torments before being given this opportunity. Given all that you have done and sacrificed for us, I think an exception can be made."

She nodded to the other nuns. They rose and lunged for me, yanking me to my feet. I made no effort to resist, allowing them to pin me against the stone pillar. Without a word, Miriam yanked off my tunic, casting it aside while Catriona tore off my boots, then slipped off my belt.

Isidora watched me with cold, hungry eyes while Catriona worked my trousers over my legs. With practiced ease, Miriam forced me to turn about so she could lash me to the pillar with hempen rope. I shivered as I assumed the same position that their Saint had taken all those centuries ago.

Miriam tugged on my hips, forcing me backwards a little so that I was leaning forward, braced against the stone. I murmured at the warm embrace of the stone against my cheek.

Naked and helpless, I took a deep breath and awaited my sacred torment.

A minute passed before Catriona approached, bearing a little vial.

"Essence of heart-flower and yarrow," she murmured.

From the lessons she'd given me, I recalled that it was a sacred concoction that could induce hallucinations. My heart fluttered and I parted my lips. Catriona tilted the vial and sent the holy liquid down my throat.

Warmth gripped my bones as the potion took hold. The stone swirled and swam before my eyes. The moonlight gleaming through the windows sharpened, turning into rippling chains that danced through the air.

"Saint Morwenna, Queen of Surrender and Queen of Conquest," all three nuns murmured as one. "I beseech thee for your aid and guidance. Grant me the power to break and the strength to tame."

After a deep breath, I repeated the prayer as best I could. Each word burst within my potion-addled mind, the sounds dancing and twirling like birds through the air. I smiled blearily at the shimmering stone and leaned my head back, eager for whatever they were about to unleash.

"Within my hands is a sacred whip said to have once scourged Saint Morwenna's holy flesh," Isidora murmured. "Remember, Anvarr. Your body is only chained here because you will it to be so. Simply utter the word 'nightshade' and your torment will end."

I shivered as something cold raked over my spine. Thanks to my flaring arousal and the influence of the potion, the sensation drew forth a low, needy moan.

Delightful as it was, the strike had not been enough. My body craved more, my soul hungered for the challenge.

"Another," I hissed through clenched teeth. "Harder. I can take it."

Isidora obliged, raking the whip against my back. Beautiful fire danced up and down my body. I let out a laugh of joy, then a cry of triumph as she struck me once more.

Again and again the sacred whip struck my flesh, the sensations warped and enhanced by the potion Catriona had given me. Each strike ignited flashes of color at the edges of my vision. Each impact conjured ripples of fire and ice that gripped every muscle in my body.

The line between pleasure and pain blurred. Bliss and agony churned together like two rivers meeting to create a third. Something new. Something beyond agony and delight.

Something holy.

I lost count of the savage, beautiful strikes against my skin. My vision turned red and then white, the flickers of torchlight blazing as fiercely as the sun. Tears of surrender and joy filled my gaze.

Again and again she unleashed beautiful torment upon my back.

I was certain the brutal treatment would leave scars upon my skin. If so, I'd bear them as proudly as I wore that collar.

"Allow me," Miriam murmured.

She struck me with faster, sharper strikes that were no less delightful. The echoes of each strike thundered through the holy chamber, until Catriona's soft fingers grazed the back of my neck.

"I still owe you a single lash from the Rite of the First Torment," she murmured against my scalding skin. "Would you like to endure it now?"

"Yes. Please. In Saint Morwenna's name."

"Sister Miriam," Catriona murmured. "Tend to him, please, while I prepare."

A moment later, Miriam stepped beside me and reached between my legs to take hold of my aching shaft. Milky droplets were already leaking from the tip, staining the holy pillar and the stones below. She stroked me, firm and fast.

The bliss inflicted by the pain combined with her demanding strokes sent me racing towards my release. I trembled, my hips writhing and rocking.

"Are you ready?" Catriona asked, her voice booming like thunder from behind me.

"Yes," I growled, my eyes watering. "Please. Grant me the joy of pain, Catriona."

The strike that landed was not a brutal, savage impact like the ones unleashed by Miriam and Isidora. It instead came as a feather-light stroke, a gentle tease rather than a horrific blow.

And yet with my back already ablaze from the other impacts, and with my cock straining beneath Miriam's hands...

That gentle, delicate little blow was more than enough to break me.

I erupted beneath Miriam's touch, my release spraying against her fingers and the sacred pillar. She silenced my cry with a fierce kiss, devouring my joy, biting at my lower lip and snarling as I sobbed. Soft fingers grazed over my back. A hand gripped my buttocks, steadying me as my hips writhed and trembled.

My senses flitted in and out as a nun undid the bonds, guiding me down to the floor. My back was so ablaze that I barely even felt the stone beneath me.

To my surprise, Catriona wielded not the wicked whip that I had imagined, but instead the simple, silken flogger she'd used upon me the night we'd met.

How had the nuns unleashed such beautiful torture with such a gentle implement? Was that owed to the effects of the potion they'd given me?

I also realized that my torment was far from over; all three nuns had stripped out of their holy vestments during my torture. Moisture gleamed between their legs. Torchlight flickered over their beautiful, varied bodies: each one perfect and desirable in their own unique way.

"He is yours to claim first, Sister Catriona," a voice murmured, but I was too dazed to realize who had spoken.

The curvaceous redhead settled above me, taking hold of my shaft, which was still achingly hard despite my recent climax. I groaned at her touch, unsure if my persistent arousal was due to the pain I'd endured, the potion, or the holy energy rippling around me.

After murmuring a prayer, she sank down upon me. The warm sensation of her clenching sex combined with the lingering aches in my back to create yet another new variant of bliss. A fire beyond reckoning, a storm of delight inflicted by her body and the potion coursing through my veins.

As she rocked and writhed above me, firm hands grasped my arms and tugged them above my head, pinning me down.

Isidora descended, bringing her dripping sex down upon my lips. I murmured gratefully and feasted: licking, nuzzling, kissing.

The cries of both women rose, entwining into something greater just as my pain and pleasure had danced together. The haze of pain, exhaustion, and the potion all churned together. My senses flitted in and out, my mind barely able to process what I was enduring.

One moment Catriona was rocking above me, crying out my name. The next she was cradling my head while Isidora suckled upon my cock. A moment later, Isidora was rocking above me, with Miriam straddling my face.

The couplings blurred together in a wild, lustful haze. Faces and bodies grew misty and shadowy. Pleasure rippled through my body. Climax after climax tore through me...or were those just more illusions?

My raspy voice unleashed cry after cry and prayer after prayer. Again and again my tongue lashed against their breasts or between their legs. The taste of each woman blurred together, creating one continuous delight upon my tongue. Again and again I felt my cock spurt into a waiting mouth or a clenching sex.

How many times had they climaxed? How many times had I? Had the hallucinations just prolonged one climax into a dozen? Or was my body in fact lurching from one peak to another, beyond all the limits of my endurance?

I felt soft breasts resting against my chest. The haze shifted; I saw Catriona slumped against me, her chest rising and falling with deep breaths. Sweat clung to her pale, freckled skin.

Miriam was on the other side of me, holding my hand as she sprawled out upon the stone floor. Isidora knelt beside the panting nun, running her fingers through Miriam's short curls.

Movement caught my eye through the haze of exhaustion and lust. A figure stepped forth from the shadows. Surprise and awe gripped my heart.

The new arrival was pale and curvaceous, with an ethereal beauty that sent a chill through my heart. Unblemished pale skin glowed in the moonlight. Long, raven-black hair fell to her waist. Dark, nearly-black brown eyes regarded me as she crossed the room with slow, swaying steps.

I opened my mouth to speak. Nothing emerged save for a soft moan.

The potion still gripped my mind, combining with the sensations inflicted by the other women. That apparition was just one of the nuns, and my frenzied mind was so broken that it had conjured an imaginary woman.

Or was I in fact gazing upon the divinity of Morwenna herself?

The figure smiled, filling my heart with warmth. I glanced around but the other nuns had faded into a dark mist.

My breath caught as Saint Morwenna descended. As she leaned down, her silky black hair brushed my chest, dancing over the marks left by the nuns' nails and teeth. That soft sensation was enough to draw forth a needy moan.

I would give her far more than just a needy moan before long. After Morwenna placed a dozen soft, loving kisses upon my chest, she brushed her fingers over my collar. A leash materialized in her grasp.

As her eyes burned with lust, she leaned back upon the misty stone floor. She spread her shapely legs wide, exposing a patch of glistening, night-black curls.

A tug on the leash yanked my back from the floor. Another tug brought me closer. My eager, desperate lips sought out her pink nipples. Each one received a wild lick and a hungry suckle.

"Worship," she said in a thrumming voice that seemed to combine the voices of Catriona, Isidora, and Miriam all in one.

I raised myself up. Her divine, pale fingers took hold of my impossibly-hard shaft. Together we sighed as she guided my manhood towards her sex. Our cries rose as one as she tugged on the leash, forcing me to tilt forward and sheath myself inside of her.

One hand remained tight upon the leash while the other rose, her nails clawing at my back the same way that Miriam would. Her thighs were soft but surprisingly strong, clenching me with the exact same needy rhythm that Catriona used. And when she leaned up to kiss beneath my ear, her breath was warm and insistent in the exact manner as Isidora.

Whoever the woman was beneath me, I intended on giving her everything I could. Each tug on the leash guided my forceful thrusts. Our moans churned and swirled together. Her whimpers rose alongside my sobs, her commanding growls intermixed with my thrumming groans.

My powerful hips crashed against her soft, divine body again and again. Time shifted, broke down. The pain inflicted by her nails roared through my body, joining with the delight ignited by her sex.

"Yes," she cried again and again. "Take everything.Give me everything."

I plowed into her one last time. My back arched, every muscle roaring with effort. She tugged on the leash, forcing me to stare down at her.

In those dark eyes I saw the warm brown eyes of Catriona, the piercing gray gaze of Isidora, and the gleaming blue eyes of Miriam.

Within her cries I heard the voices of all three women: the nuns who had saved me, taught me, guided me.

I did not simply climax...

Ishattered.

My vision went dark, consumed by the wild mist around me. A soft hand clenched the side of my neck, steadying me. Lips caressed my back and cheek. Firm hands grasped my hips, cradling me as my cock spurted and twitched. The ache took hold of my entire body. Every muscle trembled, quaked, and went still.