The Escape - First chapter of an erotica that I&#0

CHAPTER 1

Shondai Roturn, heiress to Lord Emmerin Roturn, head of the Northern Gendarus governing council, gagged on the stench of the strange man who would be her hero as she ran, pulled along by his firm grip on her sore wrist almost too fast to stay upright, through the low cutting razor branches of the dark forest. It was night, but it was hot. Too hot for her to be anywhere near home, and that scared her more than anything else she had suffered for… how long now? Days? Weeks? The scabs breaking away from her early wounds exposing pink scars suggested weeks at least, if not months.

Her ball gown, the last thing she had been wearing when she was taken from her Cotillion Junoesque, a ceremony to celebrate her year of womanhood, was shredded and filthy and it barely hung on her thin frame. It was ragged and worn thin and made her look like one of the commoners that littered the streets of her father’s province. The rag of a dress clung to her every curve thanks to the blood oozing from her every fresh and re-opened wound, the cuts and scratches she received from the lashings of the forest canopy as it seemed to reach for her and the slick sweat that coated her body. This heat was pretty intolerable.

To top it off, Shondai knew not what to think of this vagabond leading her haphazardly through the night. Was he k**napping her from her captors for good or for ill? Would the tortures turned shameful delight they exacted upon her be paled by what this creature had in mind for her? And his grip. His iron fingers wrapped around her wrist only aggravated the red skin strips rubbed raw by the leathery straps that held her to a stone table for far too much of her captivity. The constant stinging of his squeeze sent a sensation of pain up her arm to her chest and down to bounce around her gut. But something else bizarre, yet all too familiar, happened. The pain leapt from her gut into her breasts and tingled her nipples causing them to involuntarily harden. She wanted to ask him, plead with him, to let her go, but still abhorred the thought of speaking to him for fear of what he might say in return.

All of these thoughts and far too many more muddled her mind. Her feet were on autopilot. That is until her bare foot caught painfully on a tree root toppling her over face first in the dried leaves and nettles and further into the black soil beneath. The smell was primal. Earth. Nature. Life with a hint of death. And it sent a pleasure tingle down her spine to her toes. That tingle ignited the pain in her toe. Her nail was easily broken, or bent back. She pushed herself weakly from the ground and looked at her foot. Her big toe was bloodied and burning. A whimper cry echoed up through her throat, but she refused to allow any more feebleness show.

“Get up!” His voice was gruff and demanding. His firm hand gripped her upper arm just under her shoulder and he jerked her to her feet. Damn he was strong. “Now!”

She took one step on her damaged foot and collapsed to her knees, this time with a more vocal cry. “I can’t. It hurts.”

A bone chilling shriek came from the black sky not more than a couple hundred yards behind them. Shondai knew that sound. She’d heard it quite often since the cotillion. That was the sound of her captor’s pets. The things that had snatched her from her former life and brought her to this gods-forsaken place to undo her. Luckily for him, her would-be hero didn’t have to face those grotesque shadow demons when he freed her and spirited her down back corridors on their escape. The worst thing he had to face were a few wolf guards.

Now she saw terror in his deep brown eyes. “Get up!” Frantic. The gruff was frightened away, but his strength was not. He jerked her up and pulled her along again. Every step shot intense stabbing pain up her leg. But with the next screech, closer now, her pain was forgotten and she was desperately trying to keep pace with him.

Branches above them cracked and shifted as the first monster swooped down on them. The stranger slung her around him and into the base of a tree. “Stay down!” he barked. She wouldn’t argue and instead tucked herself beneath the roots of the giant tree.

Shondai peeked up out of her hiding space in time to see the stranger dive to the ground as the cloaked screaming banshee swooped down swatting at his head with a shadow claw trying to take it off. The stranger rolled with the dive and ended back on his knees in a single move. The second shade kamikazed out of the sky trailing black ominous clouds behind it toward her would-be hero. The first looped around and was barreling toward the stranger at the same time. They would rip him to shreds and drag her back to him, the bastard that snatched her away from her life.

But the stranger pulled a wooden staff amateurishly carved of inferior wood from beneath his cloak. She wasn’t sure where he kept it, as it was at least eight feet long, but there it was, gripped in his right fist held out parallel to the ground at arms length. The demons were almost on him.

“Move!” She couldn’t help but scream. But he paid her no more attention than he did the swirling hot wind that their attackers bombarded them with.

As they neared him, within feet now and closing fast, the stranger spun the staff straight up and gripped it with both hands. He stabbed the base of the staff to the ground burying it a few inches into the forest floor. With that, a brilliant white light exploded from the staff’s head and lit the entire area. The shades let out a scream so piercing Shondai had to cover her ears for fear her head would explode. The light ripped through the demons shredding them and blowing apart the black clouds above. A cooling wind blew across the forest floor knocking Shondai back on her ass.

She quickly pulled herself back up to her squatting position as the light faded and the staff’s light died to little more than a pulse of pale yellow. That’s when Shondai truly saw her savior for the first time.

Though filthy and dressed in scavenged rags, she could see his body clearly. He was huge; probably from years laboring away in a landowner’s fields or from working as a blacksmith somewhere. At least that’s what she guessed. His feet were wrapped in several layers of burlap and tied with a long leather strap decades old and worn. She could see his naked legs beneath his cloak thanks to the wind that still whipped wildly from his mystical blast. They were tree trunk sturdy and bronzed by the sun. Again, speculatively from field work though he would almost have to have worked in the nude. That thought tugged at the space between her thighs. The loose cloak and layers of rags couldn’t hide his barrel chest and she had already experienced his python arms first hand, but when she got to his face, her breath caught in her throat. It wasn’t the locked square jaw or the matted curly locks that hinted at an unbridled spirit within, it was his eyes. The brown eyes were now green. Now blue. They were a psychedelic swirl of all possible colors and universes brought to life by the light of his staff. And their light faded back to brown as the magic pulse slowly paled and died away. As it did, he stood motionless as if lost to the nothingness from whence he retrieved his weapon.

She started to move, to climb to her feet and walk out to thank her hero, and stopped. Her thighs were shamefully wet. Memories of knuckle lashings with a bristle twig by Hermita, her nursemaid, danced through her head. Thoughts and actions that caused the damp reaction, the “devil’s water” Hermita called it, those thoughts and actions were taboo and were consistently met with a lashing. Shondai pushed the tatters of her dress down to wipe away the mess. She convulsed sucking in a shallow breath as her hand, wrapped in her slip, passed hard over the jumble of nerves stashed away for safe keeping pinched closed at the V base of her stomach. She closed her eyes, bit her lip hard and kneaded that unholy spot, that spot that had been the source of most of her pain and her pleasure over the span of her captivity. She was lost to the darkness behind her eyes. And she liked it.

The moan that escaped her throat startled her and she immediately stopped: wetter than she had been. Heat rushed to her face. Shame. Lust. She felt everything at the same time and wanted no more than to rush out to her stranger and take him. Only he was standing above her now looking down on her. His face was emotionless and his staff was disappeared back into the ***** from which it was pulled.

“Are you finished?”

The corners of her mouth arched up into a sly grin. “Not hardly,” was her sensual response. Then again, shame. Where did that come from? That was not appropriate for a woman of her stature. “I…” but her words lost their way on her tongue trapped under the nervous mass she struggled to swallow.

“We should go.” He looked up to the sky and the thick cloud canopy was returning. “A few more hours, and we can rest.”

blood pounding in her face heating her eyes and flushing her cheeks; she had to look away. She found a blade of grass by her left knee and focused on it. What was happening to her? What had that monster done to her? She wanted to stand a proud lady, offer the stranger her hand and have him e***** her to safety. She also wanted to pounce on him tearing away his rags, shove what would most assuredly be the massive throbbing cock he kept hidden beneath into her aching chasm and have her way with him until consciousness was drained from them both.

Rather than doing either, she sucked in a deep breath, held it, puffed it out in a calming sigh, and stood on her own. Her toe pain was back, but it paled next to the lustful ache that clinched her body.

The stranger jerked his head to one side motioning for her to follow and they were off again in a fast walk moving away from the dark castle behind them that was her prison and toward gods know what.






They stopped in a clearing a couple hours from dawn. They had made most of the trip without speaking; her from embarrassment, him… who knew. She had only seen his back the entire trek and it wasn’t until the clearing that he even acknowledged that he had any company at all.

“We’ll sleep here for a few hours.” He scanned the clearing. She knew the look. Her father, when he would take her on hunts as a ***********, had the same one. He was memorizing the layout finding the perfect staging point to make sure that he would see anyone or anything approaching before they see him. Strategy was carved into every wrinkle accenting his eyes. “Over there,” and he pointed to a small garden of boulders near the center.

They had to climb up the more gradual side of the cluster and then drop down between the stones. They were almost completely covered by a stone canopy. How had he seen this from the edge of the clearing, she couldn’t fathom, but he did and she knew no one else would be able to. She was safe here. With him.

He sprawled out across the bedding of dry leaves and needles that had amassed over the centuries that these stones have stood undisturbed and closed his eyes. Shondai slowly sat on the leaves across their little nook from him and stared amazed that he was just napping.

“Who are you?” was all she could muster through her dry throat.

He opened his eyes and sat up leaning on one elbow and looked at her. “You need to get your rest. I’m a friend.”

“Uh huh. What’s your name, friend?”

“Breth.”

“Okay, Breth. Nice to meet you. I’m…”

“The young Lady Roturn. I know.” He paused, then, “Nice to meet you as well.” With that he rolled back on his back and closed his eyes.

Shondai’s jaw almost dropped to the ground. Such disrespect. How dare he? Her ire was dulled immediately by the thought that darted through her mind. Was she angry because he wasn’t treating her with mannered respect, or was she frustrated that he wasn’t returning her still dully aching desire? “Why did you save me?” That was the only thing she could think to ask, and the only question that really seemed important.

Breth opened his eyes and turned his head a bit to look at her, but he didn’t sit up this time. He said with a grin, “You seemed to need it.” And again, he closed his eyes. “Now sleep. We have a long day ahead.”

“I’m hungry.” But that was a lie. Well, almost. It was a lie in the way she said it, but not the way she meant it. She was hungry for something, but food was the last thing on her mind. But Breth wouldn’t pay her any more attention. She stomped her foot, pouted out her bottom lip and rolled over to lie in the makeshift bed with her back turned to Breth and his filth. And the emptiness began to sink in again. The solitude.

She had been alone but for her tormentor for so long now that, with the night embracing her, she could only feel alone. Tears burned her dry eyes as they built on the rim of her lid and then flowed over them cracking the dry skin on her nose and cheeks. The sobs erupted, uncontrolled and unstoppable. She clenched a handful of brown leaves and dead needles and pulled them close to her chest as if even their uncomfortable sting would somehow calm her. But all she felt was more alone. She had been violated several times a day. She had been beaten, bonded and whipped. And ****d mercilessly. She was tortured and damaged. And her betrothed, the man she was to marry the day after her cotillion, the man she had never met, he would not have her now. She would be damned to the life of a prig, more worthless to her family than the leper derelicts they’re forced to constantly chase from the providence boundaries. So the sobs were called for. She convulsed under the force of her lament as everything bottled up and kept secret from the devil that took her so as to keep that pleasure, if no other, from him.

Her quaking became uncontrollable spasms. She was victim to them. And Breth... he saved her again. His thick arms wrapped around her shoulders and pulled her close. He spooned her close to him and held tight as she let the dam holding back her cries break and crumble. After a while, her cries died to sobs died to whimpers and drifted her off into the deepest sleep she had had since before her cotillion.

Her dreams took her back to her prison. That castle, she knew it was a castle even though she hadn’t seen the outside before looking back during their escape run, was built of the blackest stone polished to a mirror finish. Every stone had the gloss of finely polished emeralds, but they were the pitch black that reflected her captor’s soul.

She was strapped to the wall; arms bound above her head and feet strapped a foot above the floor. She was weak from hanging there for what seemed like hours. Her arms and legs were numb and her back bowed the wrong way as she curved away from the wall. Her dress laid on the floor on the opposite side of her cell, a good fifty yards away. Her shoulders burned from being stretched beyond their tolerance. Soon, it felt, they would be ripped from her shoulders and she would fall to the floor busting her face on the polished stone there. She screamed out demanding to be set free, but she heard nothing in her dream’s ears.

Then came a loud thud and a turning. She knew the sound all too well. It was the giant heavy wooded doors off to the side out of her line of site as they were unbolted, unboarded and slowly pulled open.

She heard her voice as a distant echo of a sound, “Let me go!” Her captor simply waved away her plea/demand as if it were a gnat buzzing at his ear. But she couldn’t see his face. It was covered by a black leather hood locked to a collar strapped around his neck. Only his eyes, pupils swollen to replace all color with black, and his mouth, lips of the darkest red and teeth yellow as death, were exposed.

The only other thing this man wore was a metal gauntlet that was little more than a wrist band with three finger covers strapped to it. Each of his three middle fingers on his right hand were covered by a different metal tip. One was rounded with a bulging tip, much like the mushrooms she would collect for her mother to cook into a dinner stew when she was but a young girl. The middle was sharpened to a point that reflected the death light of the moon that trickled in through the small windows near the ceiling. And the last was slightly hooked with a bladed inside curve. How many times had he come to her wearing that atrocity. Every inch of that damnable glove was engraved with intricate Elven designs. Of course, those war monsters would have designed something so horrid. They probably tortured each other for fun.

But her captor was no elf. They never got taller than waist high and this b**st stood at least two heads taller than her father, and she only stood to his shoulders. If he were a giant, he was a runt. That wasn’t comforting to her. Moving from his mask and glove, she scanned his sporadically hairy, muscular body. He would have been an Adonis but for skin the color of snow. His legs were thick and muscular and hairy beyond belief. The pale brown hair barely covered his white skin there though. And his cock hung flaccid from the mound of pubic hair that matched his legs. Though the hair was thick, his limp dick looked inhumanly large hanging loosely halfway down his leg. And she knew the horror that awaited her once it was erected.

He chuckled a deep guttural growl as he approached. “Mmmm. Hello again, my dear.”

The rotting stench of this demon’s breath made her choke on the ***** that wanted desperately to flee her body if only to escape his torture. She pulled up with her pained arms rubbing her raw and bloodied wrists against the rough leather straps and pulling herself tight against the wall as if that were some sort of escape. He put his gloved palm against her scratched and scabbed belly and pushed hard.

“Will the wall save you?” He pushed until all of the air was pushed from her and she was gasping for air, desperate to inhale that grotesque smell oozing from deep within his gut. Then he released the pressure swiping his middle finger, the pointed one, scratching across her tender flesh making a new line of blood trickle there. He smiled greedily, leaned in, and licked away the blood. She sobbed and turned her head away. The pain was dull after so long of this, but still quite uncomfortable and she knew what was to come. “Do I smell desire?”

That sent a cold chill up her spine. Not from disgust so much as he was speaking truth. He was conditioning her. He leaned down and buried his nose in the soft patch of blond hair that dotted the moistening place between her legs. She could feel the oozing trickle as it leaked out of her pussy and wet her ass crack before dripping to the floor. Each drip sparked an almost giddy chuckle in her tormentor.

Breathing her tender smell in, he slid his nose up burrowing through her hair and then darted to her hip bone that was pushing her skin out and he bit it. He bit the bone hard breaking her skin and opening new holes there. He lapped again at her blood, but didn’t get it all. Her nerves were on end and the cooling creek of blood he unleashed rolled down her thigh, over her knee, cutting its way down her smooth shin to the tips of her toes before falling to the floor to mix with the small pool of juice there. The pain in her hip only made her pussy dew up even more. As detestable as this monster was, as painful his pleasure was, as horrid a thought as it was, she could not deny the fact that she wanted it. She was starting to like it. And that’s what he wanted. That’s why she was here.

He stood up straight again and looked into her damp eyes. She looked down, away from his damnable gaze, and she saw his pasty white cock slowly rising. It was hardening, but it still pointed down. It would take more than her blood and basic pain to make him hard. He held up his gloved hand, his three fingers in that gauntlet, and asked, “Which one shall it be?”

She broke into a stutter of sobs and let her arms go. They couldn’t hold her any longer. She bowed away from the wall again and was far too close to him. She smelt the stench of death on him. And she smelt his desire. His right hand cupped her breast and he pinched her nipple with his thumb and the smooth metal of his first finger and he twisted it enough to make it harder with ache. He leaned in to her other tit and opened his mouth taking her nipple in flicking his tongue across it making it as hard as the other. He loved the way he could manipulate her body; the way she was slave to his every touch. As he lightly bit her nipple, she moaned. God, that wasn’t supposed to come out. He slid his hand down away from her breast and moved down her ribs past the curve of her side, across her hips and down to her inner thigh while biting hard and harder on her nipple.

It was the rounded one this time. She almost thanked him as the fat rounded metal head pushed through her pussy lips and deep inside. He pulled it out slowly until the head was barely in, then jammed it back in. He bit hard on her nipple and the taste of blood erupted in his mouth. He jammed that finger harder and harder, deeper and deeper, until his hand was coated with her wet. As she slowly began to dry, he withdrew.

She almost moaned for more. That was until the middle finger, the sharp one, flicked and fluttered around her outer lips. Then the metal stake pushed past the outer lips and played with the thin inner lips. It jabbed and punched pin prick holes in her tender flesh. He found her hole and slid in. This appendage wasn’t as smooth. Rather, it had a rough finish much like the carpenter’s wood paper used to sc**** furniture smooth. In and out he went, slowly at first, then faster. The jabbing pain of the tip was only part of the sensation. The rough member scratched her pussy raw.

But he had conditioned her at this point and the pain was seductive. As her wet returned, more wet than earlier, the scr****g sensation went away. She successfully lubed the point to where the only pain she felt was stabbing jab of the tip. His hand and glove were coated again, but not just with her stimulation. He raised his hand and licked away the mixture of her juice and her blood.

She felt it creeping up her inner thigh before she saw it. His monstrous cock hard with whatever icy blood pumped from his black heart, was now completely erect and nearly as thick as her small forearm, and it was aimed at her ravaged pussy.

In her sleep, Shondai squirmed in the same tempo as her dreamscape ****. Her round ass ground against Berth’s crotch. She breathed hard and dug her claws into her inner thigh. As if in a sleep trance, she began to pull her dress up to her hips. She dug her fingers into her soaking snatch and let out a trembling moan. Still asleep and with her other arm, she reached around under Berth’s rags and behind him grabbing his rock ass pulling him tighter against her with her every pulsing motion. Lost somewhere in sleep, he joined her motions. Feeling him grind against her, Shondai awoke with a river running through her fingers. The smell of her sex filled the air.

She was still hazy and not exactly sure of where she was, but she did know the bulge of rock pressing against her ass through cloak and rag clothing. She released his ass and Berth kept grinding. She looked back over her shoulder at his stone chiseled face and saw that he was still asleep. She flipped his cloak back and found his dick at full attention. It wasn’t monstrous at all, and for that she was grateful. She twisted a little on her side and, with her back still to Berth, aimed her hot pulsing cunt at his thick head and slid onto it. She was so wet, he slid in like an oar cutting through an ocean. And like that ship at sea, they rocked in unison pounding harder and harder against one another.

She listened as his breathing quickened. Berth’s eyes jerked open and he pulled away. “What the?”

But she would not have him stop now. Something a****listic was in control now. She rolled and was on top of him in an instant pulling his rags further away freeing his balls. Grasping them, Shondai took note of how her dampness made his cock glisten in the pale moonlight before swinging one leg over him and straddling him. He slid into her screaming throbbing pussy with little effort and she was in charge. His face was mixed with “get off” and “stay on.” It was a look she was sure her captor saw in her face all too often.

Shondai rocked on him madly while pushing his cloak up and bunching it around his neck exposing his muscular torso. She planted her feet flat on the ground just under his armpits and leaned forward to where her shoulders were between her knees. She dug her fingernails into his chest and used her grip there to pull and push herself rocking hard on top of his cock. The head, deep deep within her, felt like it was hitting her throat each time it flicked across that one **** spot inside. With each motion, she felt a new tingling sensation over every inch of her body. Her nipples were daggers pushing against her thin dress. Sweat pooled under Breth’s back and soaked his clothes. Her dress clung to her tits, back and stomach more than they had up until that point. The sweat from the night’s heat was nothing compared to the driving thrust of the two of them under the dawn’s light.

Berth gave in and reached around grabbing her ass helping her slide. He felt her quiver each time his head hit that certain place inside. He felt every inch of her sucking on every inch of him. They were melting into one another, his arms passing through her legs, her ass is his ass. His blood trickled from the small wounds her fingernails made on his chest. His fingers dug just as deeply into her ass. He felt her body begin to shudder. She shifted her legs to where her knees were on either side of his hips and kept grinding hard and screaming loudly. Her legs clenched together tight almost crushing the breath out of this massive man and she rolled to her right side. He rolled with her until he was on top.

She wrapped her legs tight around his waist as her shudders turned to tremors turned to convulsions. Her pleasure moans shook the night’s sky and he answered by fucking her harder. She felt him going deeper, so deep that she felt as if she would choke on his cock. He pounded harder. As if it were possible, his huge dick that already filled her completely, seemed to grow harder and thicker. And with a growling moan from deep below his gut, Berth exploded hot insider her. She wrapped her arms and legs tighter around him and held him inside her as he collapsed on top of her.

They lied like that, panting and sliding against one other with each breath, their sweat lubing them keeping them too far apart. They were two people in one body. And they drifted back to sleep that way.