3 comments/ 46004 views/ 8 favorites A Captor's Mercy Ch. 01 By: storm_wind Darkness. Zara could see nothing as she gazed straight ahead of her into the void as one blind. Her body screamed with protest as she held her cramped, contorted position, not moving except to draw long, slow, faint breaths. Cold, murky water seeped through her clothing, making her skin crawl as the stagnant, icy slime clung to her flesh. The stones she lay on were hard and broken jaggedly, pushing painfully against the bones of her back and hips. She had not moved for hours. Flashes of light had invaded her consciousness from time to time as her captors searched wildly for her, but the beam of lanterns had never fallen directly on her. Every time that the rocky walls of her hiding place were illuminated, she held back a shudder, closed her eyes, and imagined that she was just a part of the stones. She felt as if she lay in her own coffin, the square sides pressing in about her. When she had first been thrown into this prison cell, she had made a thorough search of the barren room. High in one of the walls, about ten feet up, she had discovered a deep cleft where on of the rectangular foundation stones had crumbled and been removed. No one had bothered to replace it, since the wall was still three feet thick where the hole was. Zara had tried to reach the gap for what seemed an interminable amount of time, scrabbling vainly at the damp and slippery rock walls. She didn't know how she had ultimately clawed her way to the cleft, only that she had pulled herself into the opening with shaking limbs and wrenched her body about violently to fit into the shelter of the fissure. They had cursed and searched and shouted when they discovered the empty cell, but they had not found her. Her limbs began to tremble with chill and exhaustion. At first, she had vaguely thought that she could attack a guard when he came to search again for her, but realistically, she realized that she was too weak. Zara knew that she could not stay here forever, but she could think of no way to get out, unless she was among the ranks of discarded dead. The dungeons of Minostaur were infamous for their security, as well as for the punishments that were meted out there. A clang echoed down the hallway outside her cell as a door slammed shut. Footsteps marched closer and closer, a faint light flickering into her vision. In an instant, Zara made up her mind. Slithering out of the small aperture, she dropped to the ground. Her legs gave way beneath her and she fell heavily to the hard stone floor. Wincing in pain, she drew a ragged breath and felt about her in the dark. The bobbing glow of a torch was glaring through the few narrow slits in the iron door, and a jangle of keys sounded as the lock was coaxed open. Her fist closed on a loose rock. Diving to one side of the door, she pressed her body close against the cold wall, trying to make herself invisible. The door swung open and light blinded her dark-accustomed eyes for a moment. Sightlessly, she threw the stone across the room, where it clattered loudly over the sandstone floor. The Atherian standing in the doorway dodged into the cell and held his torch high, searching the shadows of the wall to his right. Seizing this tenuous opportunity, Zara slipped through the open door. Mercifully, the torch-lit passage was empty. Goading her leaden limbs into a run, she hurried down the corridor to the cover of a stairwell. A door opened at the end of the hallway and another guard entered. Shrinking back into the shadows, she watched as he approached. He seemed to be looking right at the stairwell. Limping, she hastened down the steps, descending into the deepest bowels of the dungeon. The click of a metal-toed boot hitting the stairs sounded behind her. Recklessly, she hurled herself into the large chamber at the bottom of the winding stair. Casting her eyes about wildly, she dove behind a large rack of chains set close to the wall. Within seconds, the man walked casually into the room. He crossed to the far wall and selected a few strange implements from an array of shelves. Stomach turning, Zara took in the hellish chamber she had stumble into. She did not want to look at it, and she did not want to know what the various objects in the room were for. The man passed by her again, and she listened to his steps fade away. Closing her eyes, she wracked her brain for a way to escape this nightmare. Her thoughts slipped back to her excruciating days in this pit, her fevered mind vainly attempting to unravel the strangest of occurrences. She had no idea how long she had been held by her enemies; she remembered only pain, and her mind leaving the time and place to save her. All except for one occasion. Almost hallucinating, her mind took her back to those moments..... She was fighting tooth and nail with three prison guards, her strength pitifully weakened. One man succeeded in tearing her ragged clothes away. Her eyes lit with rage, and for a brief moment, the guards witnessed again the true Aenetian captain. Kneeing one man in the groin, she crushed the instep of another and turned to the guard still holding her clothing. Taking his knees out, she planted one foot in the middle of his spine and snapped his neck with a powerful twist of her arms. It was more power than she should have had left. Almost fainting on top of the dead man, she was unable to resist as the remaining guards pulled her upright and strapped her roughly to an angled table, yanking her legs apart to tie her ankles down. Once she was secured, they stepped back to stand to attention on either side of the door. Semi-conscious, she wondered what they were waiting for. Then the door opened and a man resplendent in a black and scarlet general's uniform swept in, his long, jet-black hair almost blue in the cold, dim light. "You may leave," he told the guards quietly, motioning for them to carry away their dead companion as well. He turned his piercing, startlingly azure eyes upon Zara as the door swung shut. Silence filled the room as he regarded her. Slowly, she mustered what alertness she could. "General Tarsus." Hazel eyes stared back at his, unabashed, proud. "So, we meet at long last, Captain Zara," he replied. "Has Aleron grown desperate at last? He finally begins to realize he will get nothing out me?" Zeira asked scornfully. The general removed his satin cape, tossing it to the floor. "No. He knows that he will or will not. He is not desperate; he is an emperor. As his general, I am the one who should be concerned with you." Carefully, General Tarsus laid his sword aside, followed by his leather gloves and surcoat. "The Emperor trusts that I will do my best. He knows that you are strong." The general ventured too close and Zara spat in his face. "You speak so high and fair. You disgust me, you pig," she snarled. "I know your business. Your false respect only brings you lower." He smiled. Planting his feet, he crossed his arms and considered her with steely eyes. "I know all about you, Captain. And I know all about your people. I will treat you with the respect that you deserve. I have no true control over what happens here to you. These prisons function on their own, and ill fortune falls upon those who attempt to alter its proceedings. If I were to set you free or spare you, I would die the next day. I might be willing," he told her quietly, "yet your cause would die with me." Utterly baffled, Zara stared at him, mistrust and surprise written on her face. Stepping close, he whispered in her ear. "Do not ask me to explain myself further. I can save you from this final ordeal—the most terrible. But only if you are willing. I am." Zara made no answer, her eyes thoughtful and far away. General Tarsus removed his boots, then his woolen socks, which Zara noticed looked as if someone had hand knit them for him. "I love no woman, I have no ties, no doubts," he told her, stripping off his tunic, then his undershirt. "I have little chance of love in my position." His mouth curled bitterly and his leggings fell to the floor. He stood before her, naked. He was younger than she had expected, his skin smooth and bronzed, his face unexpectedly open. Despite herself, her breathing quickened. His body was perfectly muscled, lithe, and beautiful. "I admire you," he continued, stepping near. "And now that I see you, I do desire you. You are far more lovely than the tales told." "General—" she started, words failing her. "At least call me Tarsus. I know that you cannot appreciate this circumstance, though I do my best to improve it for you," he said, true sorrow seemingly in his eyes. She nodded grudging acceptance wordlessly, too proud to admit that she was grateful. Softly, he bent and kissed her breasts, his hands running lightly up her thighs and over her belly to cup them to his mouth. Her heart began to pound, heat climbing through her body. Lips caressing her shoulders, her hips, the insides of her legs, he watched her breasts rise as she began to pant. He stood between her trembling legs and carefully dipped his cock into her wet folds. She whimpered and he looked quickly to her face. She wanted him. He gasped as a heady rush of desire burned through him. His ears caught the fall of passing footsteps outside the cell room door. He would have to make her scream so there would be no suspicion. He looked at her for a moment, this fiery beauty bound to the wooden frame before him, her legs splayed as wide as they would go, arms and throat tied with leather thongs, her body arched over the curved plank at her back. He wanted to make her scream with ecstasy. More roughly now, he gasped her breasts, raked his fingers down her sides. Forcefully, he pressed his lips and tongue between her legs-- sucking, licking, caressing with an intensity that made her shriek. The rose-pink slit between her legs glistened with desire, warming his lips as heat rippled through her body, pearls of sweat trickling down her inner thighs. Rubbing his body over hers, he felt her writhe at the feel of his shaft pressing against her, eyes widening with astonishment at the size of him. He was almost as long as her forearm and thicker than her fist. He felt her become utterly drenched and he moaned softly. Pulling away, he took a deep breath, tormenting her with desire. "Tarsus, you'd better fuck me now," she whispered raggedly, commanding. He laughed, reaching between her legs to fondle, his fingers stretching her wide open and taut. He tasted again with his tongue, pressing fiercely, and she screamed, fighting against her leather bonds, arms seeking vainly to clasp him to her. Pulling her lips even wider apart, he sank his cock into her, forcing the full length of him further and further in. Screaming in rapture, she convulsed, her cunt becoming even wetter than before. He stopped halfway in, not moving. "Do you want more? Do you want me buried all the way in?" he asked roughly. She cried out wildly, wanting. Swiftly, he pulled all the way out and thrust back in with all his strength. She screamed and screamed as he seemed to fill her entire body, his shaft shoving deeper and deeper. Footsteps still sounded in the hallway. "You want this, whore?" he roared over her ecstatic cries. "I'll fuck you so hard and so long, you won't know what's happened to you!" Leaning close to her ear, he whispered passionately. "I want to make you come again and again until you faint. I'm going to make you feel so good you'll think you're dying." He tilted the wooden frame until she was almost upside down. Standing over her, he plunged down into her, thrusting again and again. Slowing his movements, he began to slide his cock inside her dripping cunt little by little, driving her half mad. Suddenly, he rammed in, pulling the entire frame up to meet him, her thighs forced so wide apart, her body lashed so tightly to the wood, stretched out to welcome him in. Violently, he drove his huge cock all the way in up to the very base, impaling her completely. Shrieking with brutal pleasure, she spasmed, trying to thrash within her confines. In and out he plunged, ramming into her cunt with all his power, forcing his cock in as far as it could go. He thrust with wild strength, overcome with desire and pleasure, both screaming as he jammed his entire length into her over and over again, driving in with vicious force. The wooden frame pounded against the stone floor as they moved faster, until at last they both climaxed, and went limp, utterly spent. A Captor's Mercy Ch. 02 Zara shook herself. A few minutes or hours had passed—she did not know which—while she crouched in the belly of this prison in a dream-like stupor. She clambered to her feet, her reverie broken now, although images of General Tarsus still flickered in her mind. Perhaps it was because of Tarsus that the whole of Minostaur was not already torn to bits with searching for her. She prayed that this was true; otherwise she knew she had no hope of escaping in her current state. Still, she must try. As though in a dream, she wandered about the room she had found her way into, studying every inch of it for an idea, an opportunity. Eventually, she discovered a small wooden door in an alcove. There was no lock on it, so she was able to lift the latch, swing it open, and look in. She almost screamed. Closely the door swiftly, she sprang back across the chamber, recoiling in horror. Crouching down beside an unpleasant looking metal contraption, she clamped a hand over her mouth and tried to calm her breathing. It was alright, she told herself; it was only the dead. Abruptly, jumbled noises ricocheted down the curving walls of the stairwell. Someone was coming. Desperately, Zara plunged down a narrow, claustrophobic corridor to her left, her muscles burning with the exertion. Rounding a corner, she saw dark silhouettes looming on the passage wall before her and hurled herself into a side tunnel just in time. There seemed to be pursuers everywhere. No sooner had she started down the new hallway when the sound of harsh boot-steps headed her off, forcing her onto a narrow stair. Panting, she ran upwards, her body screaming at the sharp, steep steps. They seemed to never end. Limbs beginning to shake, she staggered, scraping her shoulder heavily on the rough stone walls. Her feet lost their purchase for a split second, and then she was falling, skidding backwards down the stairs in a crumpled heap. With an unpleasant thud, her head connected with the unforgiving granite of one of the steps and her mind blanked out into oblivion. When awareness finally returned to her, she was in one of the dungeon's many chambers. Reeling, she tried to take in her situation, her world still black. She seemed to be folded over a table at the waist, naked, her arms stretched out before her with wrists bound. Fear washing over her, she realized that there was a dark sack tied over her head. They had found her on the stairs and taken her to some terrible torture room to kill her. She began to hyperventilate as she realized that this was it. Beginning to struggle violently, she felt someone catch her legs one by one and shackle them to the table's iron base. Zara fought off the urge to scream; she would not go like that. She was of the blood of queens. In a supreme effort, she calmed her breathing. Suddenly, she felt someone press against her legs, felt soft cloth brush the backs of her thighs, and firm hands grip her shoulders. These hands traced down her back, outlining her spine and her ribcage, then the gentle slope of her waist down to her hips. She shivered, her heart skipping. Somehow, she knew those hands. Hot breath, and a whisper in her ear. " You've been trying to get yourself killed. I found you lying halfway down a staircase with a bloody head, right there for anyone to fall over you." It was Tarsus. Slowly, her terror began to subside. "I had to whisk you in here and tie my shirt over you head so no one could see you face," he continued. Her body jumped as he ground his hips against her ass, the pressure of an obvious hard-on rubbing over her flesh. "You've been very reckless, Milady. I may have to punish you," he told her, his voice throaty and purring. In her still somewhat hazy thoughts, Zara registered a touch of surprise. Was the General actually flirting with her? She had little time to think it over, as he suddenly assailed her breasts, reaching under her to pull at them, pinch her nipples harshly, knead fiercely with his thumbs. His cock was now pressed between her thighs, pushing against the lips of her pussy. He thrust his hips into her even harder, causing the small, round bead of her clitoris to rake over the cold tabletop. Zara gave a strangled cry as an electrifying jolt shot up her body, her clit throbbing almost painfully. "There are searchers going over every inch of this place ten times if they have once," Tarsus told her. "They will find us here... I need a good excuse for hiding away in here with a random prisoner, don't you think?" Zara groaned in response as he pushed her into the table again—it felt like everything between her legs was on fire, her cunt was already dripping wet, and her whole body was twitching. "Oh, and I expect you find reason to do this often with random, female prisoners?" Zara jabbed, her tone biting despite her predicament. "Quite the contrary, Captain Zara," he told her seriously. "You're special," he added silkily, murmuring in her ear, his warm breath sending chills down her body. She gave a start as she felt the sudden sensation of liquid being poured over her backside. What appeared to be a simple vegetable oil streamed over her ass cheeks, dripped down to the pink slit between her legs, and covered her thighs with a slick sheen. Tarsus was rubbing it in, oiling her thoroughly, paying special attention to the small rosebud of her ass and the drenched mouth of her pussy. She rocked her hips up and down with pleasure, able to move within her constraints just enough to grind on the edge of the table. As Tarsus had predicted, a band of prison guards soon stumbled upon them. "General Tarsus, the Aenian captain has not yet been found," they stuttered, beginning to back out of the room. Tarsus spoke to them across the table as he rubbed his cock on Zara's ass. "You've all been working hard. I'm beginning to think that somehow she has actually managed to get out. Search section D below one more time, then you can go and get something to eat in the mess hall." He let his thick shaft slide between Zara's legs, making her gasp. Saluting, the guards exited quickly, one of them winking at the General and raising his eyebrows at Zara's bound form. As they left, Tarsus suddenly thrust up into her, plunging deeply into her drenched cunt. Her shriek followed the men out the door. Tarsus set a rhythm, sinking into her deeper and deeper until his balls were hitting her ass with every thrust. Zara moaned and screamed as he filled her, the force of him slamming into her from behind pushing her clit back and forth over the rough tabletop. Her cunt was gushing, stretching wide for him as her muscles spasmed. She could feel the hard head of his cock sliding over her inner walls he fucked her, her oiled ass bouncing up and down. Writhing, she pulled at her iron shackles as her body overpowered her with waves of ecstasy. Her muscles were still convulsing when he pulled out and shoved into her ass. Slick with oil, he slid in inch by inch. Zara was gasping beneath him, and he bent over her and kissed his way down her spine, nipping lightly at her skin. Shuddering all over, she pushed backwards, sinking his huge cock further into her. She yipped as he thrust a few fingers into her aching pussy, plunging them in and out as he slowly worked his cock deeper into her. Another finger, then another. His other hand pulled at her breast, slippery and smooth. Moaning, she thrashed within her bonds, delirious with the sensations sweeping her body. He continued relentlessly until she was crying his name over and over, almost fainting. At last her muscles relaxed completely, her limbs trembling with exhaustion. Tarsus crouched and plunged his entire fist into her gaping pussy. She hardly had time to shriek before he rammed the full length of his cock into her ass. He eased up for a moment as she gasped, filled with him, then started up again. Vigorously, he pumped his hips, driving his throbbing cock into her over and over. He worked his fist as fast as he could, pressing up into her dripping cunt. Zara groaned, head lolling, her eyes rolling backwards as shockwave after shockwave hit her. "Fuck me, Tarsus, fuck me," she murmured. "Fuck me hard!" Her wide-splayed legs pulled at the shackles, muscles tensing. Her own cum was running down the inside of her thighs, her breasts were pressed hard into the cold table, her ass was bucking up and down, meeting his thrusts. Tarsus pounded into her tight ass even faster, and she screamed with overwhelming pleasure. He gave a final, deep thrust with both his hand and cock, groaning. Their bodies jerked together as he filled her with hot cum. Zara writhed within her chains, holding her breath, body spasming. At last she dropped her head to the table and passed out. "Sleep well, Captain," Tarsus whispered as he straightened, still panting. Gently, he removed her shackles, kissing her wrists and the back of her neck. Picking her up, he slung her limp form across his shoulders, dark cloth still tied over her head. With purpose in his stride, he carried her off, down the very bottom levels of the dungeon. A Captor's Mercy Ch. 03 Zara mewled softly, her mind climbing back into consciousness. Lids fluttering, she looked about her, patchy colors swimming through her vision. She was in a dimly lit room with only a small oil lamp burning on a stand in one corner. Her body seemed to melt with relief into the relative softness of the cot beneath her. Sitting up, Zara attempted to make better sense of her new situation. A fluffy quilt was tucked about her, and her shoulder was bandaged neatly where she had scraped it earlier. Sinking back down wearily, she felt a wash of something strangely akin to happiness. Tarsus must have brought her here. Perhaps for once she could sleep without terror. When she next woke, she felt a warmth beside her. She could feel him just behind her, his nakedness cupping her body. She felt no fear as she turned to look at him. Tarsus lay sleeping, his head tucked against her shoulder blades. Watching him curiously as his chest slowly rose and fell, she wondered who he really was and where he came from. What past had brought him here? Was he Aenetian, or a spy from some far off country, wormed into Aleron's infrastructure, under the Emperor's very nose? Her eyes strayed from his face, gentle—indeed, beautiful—in slumber, to the chair beside the bed, where his sword and dagger lay. She could kill him here, and escape wearing his clothes with a hood to shadow her face. They were similar enough in size; if she hurried, it could be easily done, now in the quiet of night. Her gaze turned again to his face. Something told her to trust him, and looking at him now, vulnerable and innocent in his sleep, she did not think she could bring herself to kill him. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ When Tarsus woke, he found himself in utter darkness, the light of the lamp snuffed. Stirring, he stiffened at the sensation of rope bound about his wrists and ankles. Heart quickening, he strained his ears into the blackness. He had been a fool. She had tied him and left him to be found, his treachery discovered, or she had secured him with the intention of killing him with his own dagger. After all, what true reason did she have to trust his intentions? He bit back a cry as a voice spoke suddenly by his ear. "Good morning, General," Zara whispered silkily. "You have been a bit foolish. It is unlike the great general I have heard of to let his guard down so easily." Tarsus gasped as a cool ribbon of steel snaked lazily over his throat. "Please," he murmured hoarsely. "Let me speak." "Speak?" she giggled. The slim dagger blade roamed down his chest and he shivered, feeling sick. "I intend to have you speak very much to me," Zara continued. "I want to know so many things about you!" Tarsus could make out the gleam of her smile as she bent over him, a chilling edge to her voice. "I will know all of your secrets, Milord, before I am done with you." The dagger wandered over his belly, making his skin prickle. Choking, he froze for a moment with the horror of it: He had heard all the tales of her, become well versed in all the tidbits of information Valgath's spies had gathered about her. A part of him had secretly idolized her—the brilliant rebel warrior, wise, merciful. And here, in this unbearable dungeon, her beauty and spirit had captured him. What was to come was too much for him to bear. The cold metal found the length of his shaft between his legs and fondled it as he shuddered. He could see her now, his eyes adjusted to the gloom, as she hovered over him, still naked. "Where are you from, Tarsus?" she asked, the tip of the dagger tickling his balls. "Valgath," he whispered. The dagger moved away and her hand suddenly grasped his cock roughly. "Are you sure?" she questioned. "Who were your parents?" For just a moment, he hesitated. Swiftly, Zara crawled up to straddle him and he gasped as he felt the warm wetness of her pussy rub over him. "Now, you mustn't give me trouble," she chided. "Or I will have to do mean things to you." He jumped as the coldness of steel pressed against his nipples. She rolled her hips, slicking his cock with her juices. He felt himself begin to harden, fighting the sensation. He watched her in horror, her terrible beauty burned into his mind. "My mother's name was Marnie—I did not know my father," he mumbled. He cried out in shock as she suddenly bent and fastened her warm mouth over his nipples, nipping and caressing until they were almost painful. "I warned you," she growled ominously, and he arched his back, straining to sit up, terrified of what she might be about to do. "My mother and I were simple people, we lived in the mountains, my mother was a healer, we were of peasant blood," Tarsus babbled, hoping to satisfy her. For a moment, Zara was silent. Tarsus could only hear his heart pounding in his ears, feel her moist lips pressed against his cock, his mind overwhelmed as fear vied with arousal. She gave a low chuckle—one that stilled his breath—and leaned in close. The dagger pricked his neck just below the jaw. "And how might a simple peasant boy have come to be Aleron's greatest general—his golden boy?" "I—I showed promise—" he stumbled. She laughed again. "Did you now? I do love hearing you tell stories, General, but what I really need, unfortunately, is truth." He felt a slow trickle of blood creep down his throat as the blade dug in just a little deeper. "My mother was a peasant named Melie," he gasped desperately. "I swear!" "Ah..." Zara exhaled onto his neck, hissing in amusement. "Not Marnie, but Melie. That, darling, is the name I was looking for." Bending close, she licked his ear, trailed her lips down his neck. His back arched again, this time in pleasure. "So, your father..." she prompted. "No," he panted, shaking his head in refusal. "I did not know my father." Zara's nails dug into his shoulders. "That is the truth," he whispered desperately. The dagger left his neck and slithered lower as she backed away, her breasts rubbing across his stomach. He whimpered as glittering steel caressed his now hard shaft. "Don't! Don't, please," he shuddered in panic, eyes watering. He felt the thin kiss of the blade's edge against his length, almost screaming as he waited for the pain. Instead, he gasped in shocked pleasure as the heat of her mouth replaced the cool dagger. "Don't?" she asked, swirling her tongue over his throbbing head. Slowly, she swallowed his cock, and he caught the flash of her dark eyes as she looked up at him, watching him as her lips descended to the very base. He almost came then, as her throat closed around his shaft, but she swiftly moved away, twisting his nipples painfully. "What is your interest in me?" she hissed. "You had no need to get involved...or was I just another woman to plunder, in your lust?" "Please," he said again, squirming beneath her. "I want to tell you." For the moment, the dagger was away, and all he could feel was her legs clamped around his hips, the press of her heat and slickness against the base of his shaft. "Emperor Aleron has done terrible things," he began. "I have no sympathy for his actions. My allegiance is with Valgath, but Aenia deserves freedom." His eyes searched for her face in the darkness. "Please, I want us both to win—not Aleron. It will not be easy, though." "So you want to help me out of the goodness of your heart?" Zara questioned, slicing derision in her tone. "And by 'helping', I mean using my body to sate your thirsts." "It's not like that! Please--" Zara cut off his protests as she slid up his chest to straddle his face. "Make me cum," she demanded. "It's my turn, General, to take what I want." The knife point tickled his collarbone. "You will simply have to hope that my hand doesn't slip..." Despite his fear, desire burned though him, making him tremble, his cock twitching. Her toned, supple body hovered above him, her wrath palpable in the air. Her control over him was complete, and he gave in, wanting nothing more than to obey this command—to worship this goddess of war and darkness and desire, supplicate her body with his lips and tongue. He lifted his mouth to her sex and drank her in, gentle, savoring. Zara gasped as her body thrilled, taken aback at his tenderness. Slowly, his lips coaxed her to a breathless crest, and then another. Her legs giving out, she backed off him to collapse onto his chest, panting. "Zara, I'm not a bad person. I never did that with other women in the prison. You don't know what they were going to do to you," he told her, a pleading note in his voice. "The Emperor thought that you would break if they could take your honor. I don't want to tell you what they would have done. I said that I would see to it." Tarsus was silent a moment, his face dark. Wriggling backwards atop him, Zara watched his gaze register surprise as the head of his shaft came into contact with her wet entrance. Slowly, the throbbing tip split apart her lips, stretching soft tissue as she let him in bit by bit. Her eyes never left his as she impaled herself on him. Panting, she pushed him deeper and deeper, beads of sweat slipping down her thighs. When his full length was at last sheathed within her, she stopped, breathing labored as her body adjusted. Breathing raggedly, he trembled beneath her, waiting, desperately hoping that she would not stop. He felt her squeeze him lightly, her warm, smooth walls contracting around his cock, and moaned involuntarily. "I know who you really are." His haze of pleasure chilled at her words. No. Now, she would kill him. He braced himself and watched her, her beautiful breasts heaving slightly, taut belly shiny with sweat. Zara raised the dagger in her right hand and drove it forward forcefully. "You are the Emperor's only son," she whispered. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Tarsus opened his eyes cautiously. The dagger protruded from the wall above his head, hilt-deep in the woodwork. Zara rolled her hips, making him growl, adrenalin and pleasure a deadly combination. Sitting up on her heels, she started fucking him, head thrown back, back arched, her breasts swinging temptingly in front of his face. He reached up with his tongue, capturing a nipple for a brief second. Hissing, she leaned into him, stilling her motion to offer her breasts to his mouth. Suckling eagerly, he groaned as she let him slip out of her. She pushed back to tease the tip of his cock, rubbing against him, letting her pussy catch on his head before sliding away. He gasped in torture, still smothered in her tits. Finally, throwing caution to the winds, he jerked his hips against her, lodging his wide head into her opening. Biting her lip, she pressed against him, sliding her pussy up and down his pole. He panted as she allowed him to match her thrusts, moving faster and faster, plunging his cock into her pussy. She sat up to ride him, and he let out a strangled sound as he watched his big cock sink into her again and again. "You want me to fuck you and make you cum?" Zara asked, watching him through slitted eyes. "Y-yes." "You better ask me nicely," she told him wickedly, lifting up off him. He gave a snarl of frustration, tossing his head, and she dug her nails into his shoulders. "Please," he gasped, feeling the heat of her cunt just above him. She raised an eyebrow. "Please...F-fuck me," he managed, gritting his teeth. "Captain Zara." "Good," she told him, and dropped her hips, taking all of him in one push. He nearly screamed, grinding his hips against hers, trying to make sure every last bit of his cock was stuffed into her. She clenched around him, gyrating her hips, hands moving to clutch her breasts. Moaning, her head dropped back and her pussy tightened around him like a vise as she came. Grunting, Tarsus strained against her, cock twitching until he erupted inside her with a shout, filling her spasming pussy with his cum. He lay gasping for breath, the room spinning dizzily as she dismounted. "Now," she said, "You're going to tell me how to get out of here."