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The Captive Bride Ch. 01

By: lithebunny



This is my first story here, so please be nice! I'm going to take a couple of chapters to build it up, but there will be some sex soon, I promise. I'd love to hear any comments or suggestions.

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The sound of the horses' hooves had deafened Elinor by dusk, so that she found it hard to hear the voices of her companions, or the evening chorus from the evergreen forests. They had set off at dawn, hoping to make the long journey from the capital to her family's estate by nightfall, but a swollen river and lameness in one of the horses had delayed them, so that as the sun began to set they were still many miles off. Her father was discussing where to stop with the steward. They had passed the last inn and changed horses some ten miles back; the land between here and their country seat was sparsely populated, the forests being too thick and the terrain too hilly for anything but a few ragged woodsmen to eke a living from. She could tell her father was nervous. They were not far from the border here, and the neighbouring country had been fighting a civil war for some time, which periodically threatened to spill over. Refugees, and raiders, were not unheard of along this stretch of road. Making a camp here would be far from ideal.

By now the sun was setting and the autumn air began to bite with cold. Elinor shifted to pull a fur mantle from her saddlebag, wincing at the stiffness as she moved her cold limbs. Her father had suggested that she stay in the city where it was safer, or travel in the coach with her mother and sister, but she knew he would need help on the estate. Besides, three days in a coach with her younger sister, who was to be married next month, would be far worse than a few saddle sores. She smiled as she thought of Anna. Her mother had been quite the favourite of the court in her youth, but was considered to have married below her status - Elinor's father was only a viscount, after all. Elinor had always been a slight disappointment to her mother, showing little more than a passing interest in men and marriage, and forever pestering her brother Stephen to teach her about military tactics, land management or falconry. Elinor was far to intelligent to be a good wife, or at least she was not good enough at hiding it. Anna, however, had secured a proposal from the second cousin of the King and the tender age of nineteen, and deftly navigated the political and social fallout of her sudden rise in status. Her mother had been delighted to plot the wedding with her young daughter, endlessly discussing invitations, banquets and precedence, until even Anna became a little bored. Behind her frivolity, however, and her constant attempts to find Elinor a husband, there was a well of good-heartedness, and she shared her sense of duty towards family and loyalty to the King.

The sun had almost entirely disappeared below the trees now, and the failing light sapped all colour from the landscape. The steward had suggested a clearing a mile or so ahead where they could lay some blankets and snatch a few hours' sleep before starting again at dawn. The company was cold and tired, so they did not react as quickly as they perhaps might when one of her father's menservants, who was riding at the rear, fell off his horse. The train slowed to a halt, and there were guffaws from his comrades, then cries, but before Elinor could discern what they were shouting, she saw the man in front of her jump in his seat, and start to slide sideways.

The steward was shouting by now, and Elinor saw that the man ahead had fallen out of his saddle completely now, and was being dragged along by his stirrup, and arrow in his neck.

Shock and horror flooded her, and three more arrows whistled past her, one slamming into another man, and causing him to cry in pain. She

saw a spray of red in the air. Someone shouted. "Bandits! Get off the road!", and she was aware of hoof beats moving past her, into the woods on their right. Panicked now, and crouched in her saddle, keeping so low she was barely able to see, she pulled the reins. The horse was afraid too, and pulled up onto its hind legs, shaking its head, so that she feared she would be thrown off. Where was her father? Had he been hurt? She felt the hiss of more arrows in the air, then another rider grabbed the bridle of her horse and started to pull her into the woods. She still couldn't seen the bowmen.

A scream, not human this time. She looked down, and saw an arrow in the flank of her horse. It was bucking and kicking, but her limbs seemed to have turned to treacle and she could do nothing as her world tilted and she slipped from the saddle, the dying horse landing heavily next to her.

She must have hit her head. Her skull ached and she could feel blood running down into her eye. Half-blind, she pushed herself up. She was a good fifty yards from the treeline, too far to crawl, and she was too scared of the arrows to get up and run. She realised with a sickening feeling that she was alone. No-one was looking for her, or pulling her up. They had run into the woods and left her behind. She tried to call, but the breath had left her when she fell. There were other shouts now, and running footsteps, and she slumped, exhausted and terrified. The voices had a strange accent, they weren't her people. She had been left for the bandits.

Captain Nikolai was in a good mood. The unit of thirty men had departed from the garrison town at the border some three weeks ago, and since then they'd stolen several pounds of gold from travellers, burnt the estates of some noblemen known to be supporting their enemies in the civil war and killed the man who had been disrupting their Lord's trade interests. They'd lost only two men, including Anatoly who'd taken an arrow in the leg and been smuggled back over the border to be carted home. Two weeks of secrecy had worn on the men, though: night after night with no fire, no noise and no ale. Now they were heading back, anticipating another two weeks of riding through land controlled by their enemies, when one of the scouts had spotted this convoy of fifteen, seemingly unarmed. They'd followed them for a couple of hours. His sergeant, Ilya, had begged to attack straight away, but Nikolai waited until nightfall, when the party was far from the nearest village. Ever a cautious man, he wanted to take no chances with this skirmish. The foray into enemy territory had gone so well thus far that he started to dare hope that this might earn him the commission so long denied him. Thus, it was only as darkness fell that he allowed the archers shoot.

The small company was quickly dispersed, leaving a few dead on the ground. It was unlikely that they would be carrying anything very valuable considering their willingness to flee, but they could do with the horses, and as the last of the riders disappeared into the opposite trees, he ordered half his men to give a futile chase to keep them off, while the other half searched the bodies. The captain dismounted and pulled out a skinful of water, waiting to be brought his winnings.

Elinor could hear their words now, very close. They were searching the bodies of her father's retinue, and she heard whoops as gold coins were uncovered, and grumbles and insults when the pockets yields only coppers. Lying on her side, she saw Will, a falconer who had been with the family for years. He had an arrow in his stomach, but was still alive, spluttering drops of blood from his mouth. He met her eyes and smiled, though she could see it pained him. About to pull herself up and crawl to him, she checked herself when she saw some of the bandits come over to him. Seeing he was still alive, the lead one pulled out a chipped hunting knife, its blade dulled with use. She saw the fear in Will's eyes and looked away. He cried out, then choked, as they cut his throat.

Elinor froze in fear, trying to keep perfectly still and breathe as little as possible. They were coming over to her now, their footsteps echoing around her head and jarring clouds of pain. She prayed they would think she was already dead.

"Shit!" a voice exclaimed, just above her head now. "We've got ourselves a girly!"

"Bloody hell. What the fuck was she doing here?" The voice was coarse and gruff.

"Is she dead?" This one was younger, more unsure.

"She don't look hurt. Take a look, Mikhail."

Someone pulled on her shoulder and she was rolled on her back. She desperately tried to keep her arms limp, and she felt sure they would

be able to hear the pounding of her heart on her chest. 

"She's quite pretty, in't she?" This was the young one again, and she felt someone pull the hair from her face. She tried desperately not to flinch.

The gruff one spoke again. "Not my type. These blonde ones don't do it for me. Mind you, she's little enough for you, Mikhail!"

"I en't fucking a corpse!" the young voice protested.

"Only one way to find out." 

Elinor's heart leapt into her throat. Someone slapped her twice on her cheek, not too hard, but she couldn't help crying out. There was a cry of triumph from the men as she shirked from the blows. This was it. They'd kill her now. She opened her eyes, expecting to see the knife descending towards her exposed and delicate throat, but instead she saw the three men looking down at her, seemingly unsure of what to do next.

They were lightly armed, with swords and gambesons, and they wore no uniform but rather plain weatherbeaten clothes. They looked like they'd been on the roads for months.

The younger one grabbed her under the arms and pulled her upright. The gruff man, who she could now see was a man of about fifty, his face marked multiple times with a crisscross of scars, was telling the man holding her to take her to the captain. He began to pull her across the road.

The pain in her head was maddening, but other than that she was unhurt. Still, she feigned a limp to slow them down and give herself time

to think. If she could only get into the forest... they had taken the money and the fur mantle from her, so surely she was of no further value to these bandits. Halfway across the road, she was far from any of the other men. This was her chance. Twisting in the man's grasp, she kicked at his shins , and when he drew back in pain she prised his hands off her and started to run. He cried out in dismay, but was limping from the kicks and she was soon clear of him. She heard shouts behind her, but she was almost at the trees, the footsteps behind her became louder and suddenly a weight hit her back, slamming her painfully to the ground and taking the breathe out of her. She struggled, kicking and flailing her arms, but their was someone on top of her now, someone heavy, his warm breath moistening her ear horribly. Her arms were wrestled behind her, and now there was another man holding her shoulders down as she writhed and tried to kick, unable to inflict any damage on the men behind her, but her arms were soon securely fastened with a rope. The weight lifted from her back, and she tried to struggle free again, but firm hands pulled her to her feet. Someone grabbed her chin and jerked her head round, and she found herself face to face with the scarred man.

"Try that again and we'll run you through. Understand?" Elinor did not reply, so he shook her. "Understand?" She nodded. They started moving again, and a tear crept its way down her cheek. Helpless and aching from the falls, she felt a knot of terror in her stomach when she realised that there was no way out of her predicament. If they decided to, they would kill her, but perhaps that was the best thing now. At least it would be quick. She had little choice but to allow herself to be half dragged to the woods, where the captain was waiting.

The Captive Bride Ch. 02



The haul was as unimpressive as he had expected, and Captain Nikolai was beginning to regret that he had allowed the raid; the small party could ill afford to have the local militia warned about their presence. Ah well, they would have to pack up the few gold coins gleaned, rope together the horses and make their way over the border quickly. 

"Captain!" Ilya, the sergeant, short and stocky with thin blonde hair, was calling him. He turned to see three of the men approaching, holding a small figure, a girl, between them. She was wearing a plain but well-made red dress, now very dirty, and her bowed head displayed long, thick blonde hair. Her steps were faltering as the men dragged her along. The captain was taken aback. They had met few women on this stretch of road - people like them made it too dangerous. What the fuck was he going to do with her? This could get nasty. He thought better of his men than to believe they could kill her in cold blood, but they could hardly let her go now. Shit.

The girl was thrown on her knees at his feet. She looked up at him, and he noticed how slight she was, her delicate face framing large brown eyes. With her hands tied behind her back, her chest was pushed forward, displaying small breasts and a shift soaked with blood from her head wound. 

"What's your name?" 

"Elinor"

Ilya looked at the captain, surprised. "An aristocrat!". Elinor kicked herself. She should have realised her name would betray her status. She couldn't let them think she was worth a ransom.

"Who is your father?"

This time, Elinor lied. "He is a farmer."

Ilya looked at the captain again, and unsheathed his sword. In a moment, the point was under her chin, forcing her head up. "Do you want me to kill her, then? She's no use to us if she's a commoner! Unless you'd like to tell us the truth, love?"

Elinor remained silent. Death would be better than being in the hands of these bandits.

The captain knocked the sword away and crouched next to her. "I don't take kindly to liars, and believe me, precious, you could do with my good favour. Now, you're going to tell me who your father is, because with these clothes and that accent I sure as hell don't believe he was a farmer."

Elinor steeled herself. "He is a farmer." she insisted defiantly.

A boot hit her in the stomach, blossoming pain, and she rolled sideways, gasping. "What do you think you're achieving? We're not going to let you die, so you might as well just tell me unless you want to spend then next twelve hours in agony!"

Elinor looked into the captain's face, and his expression of rage terrified her. "My father is Viscount Tremaine." she admitted, falteringly. The captain smiled triumphantly at Ilya. This one was worth something.

The captain crouched down again. "Are you married?" he asked. She shook her head. "Are you a virgin?" Elinor looked up at him, shocked. What sort of a question... She was too slow to answer, and he slapped her face. It wasn't hard, but it stung the cut from where she had fallen before. "Yes, yes of course!" she replied hurriedly.

Ilya was speaking now. "She's lied once already, captain. We shouldn't risk dragging her all that way if..."

"No, no, quite. Let's take a look."

Elinor did not have time to register shock before she was thrown backwards painfully onto her tied hands. Her legs were grabbed and someone tried to pull them apart, but she kicked at the men, crying out. It was in vain; they were much stronger, and they outnumbered her, so that in no time she was pinned down on her back, legs spread. She arched her back and strained herself against their hands, but it was useless. She couldn't move.

The captain pushed the folds of her dress up, unable to resist running his hand along her smooth, pale thighs as he did so. Her legs were slender but strong, joining narrow hips, and she had the look of a much younger girl about her. My, she was a beauty. If only they could get her back to their Lord... He pulled the cloth away from her pussy, feeling her flinch as it was exposed to the cold night air, then writhe to try and avoid his touch. She had soft, pale hair and her button was pink and delicate in its hood. He ran his finger down to her pussy. He could hear her sobbing now, and the sound upset him for some reason. The tip of his finger entered her vagina, which was slightly moist and smooth, and very warm, and he felt the resistance of her hymen. She moaned and begged him to stop, but he was deaf to the sound now, absorbed by the beautiful sight of her vagina closed around the tip of his finger. He was tempted to linger, to press his finger, or even his cock, into that tight, good place, but with an effort of will he forced himself to pull her skirts back down. He couldn't afford to sully her. "She's a virgin." he announced to the men."We'll take her. Now piss off and get ready to leave!"

The men let go of her and moved away. Elinor turned over and curled up, but the captain ordered her up again. "We've got a long way to go before dawn."

"Where are we going?"

"Never you mind."

"Why do you want me? Do you want ransom? My father will pay it..."

"We're going to introduce you to someone who'll be very interested to meet you."

That didn't answer her question. They were walking deeper into the forest now, to where some horses were tethered. The captain untied her hands, before retying them in front of her to the pommel of a saddle on one of the horses. "You're riding with me" he announced. A soldier held the horse's bridle as the captain lifted her onto the horse, then jumped up behind her. His body was pressed close to hers, and she could feel his hard chest against her back, and his strong shoulders above hers as he reached his arms around her body to take hold of the reins. His touch was both disquieting and comforting.

The rest of the party were mounted now, and they set off along the road again. It was pitch black, and they stayed silent, making their way along the grass verge to muffle the sounds of the horses' hooves. Elinor prayed that someone would come and rescue her; surely, when her father would realise she was gone, he would send soldiers after her at once? They were travelling fast, though, and away from the family's estate. She knew it would be a day or two before he'd be able to send a party out, in which time they'd be far away. The party rode on in silence throughout the night, keeping up their fast pace. Elinor became chilled, and she had too much time to reflect on what was going to happen to her. They didn't seem to want to kill her, but where would they take her? The men obviously weren't local. And what could they want with her when they reached their destination?

As a cold yellow dawn started to light the horizon, the captain signalled the party to leave the road and head into the forest. They made their way amongst the dark, thick trees until they came across a clearing. The men dismounted, and started to set up a camp. Elinor was exhausted from lack of sleep, her legs and back ached from a full day and night in the saddle, and her wrists were chafed by the rough rope which tied them to the saddle. The captain jumped off the horse, and a shiver ran through her body; she hadn't realised how his heat had been keeping her warm. She was lifted off the horse and set on the ground, but at first her aching legs would not support her. An impatient shove from the captain hurried her to her feet. Her hands were untied from the pommel, but remained tied together, and she was marched over to a small tent which had been quickly thrown up. There were soldiers everywhere. She couldn't escape.

"You'll be sleeping in my tent" 

She stopped and looked at the captain in shock, straining against him and refusing to allow herself to be pulled towards the tent. "I... It's not proper..." 

The captain was impatient. "I'm not going to rape you. Of course, if you'd rather sleep with the men...?"

Elinor looked down and shook her head mutely. She crawled into the tent, which was tall enough to kneel in, and sat on the furs covering the ground. The captain crawled in after her. He began to take his clothes off. Elinor averted her eyes, but he left his shift on. She could see him clearly in the cold light filtering through the light canvas. He was not a young man, but he had maintained the sprightliness and strength of youth, and his face was not lined. Tousled brown hair covered his ears and framed an attractive, almost kind face. The shirt he wore covered a tall frame, strong but not large, the muscles well defined on his arms. He turned to her, and untied her hands.

"Take the dress shift off"

Elinor shook her head. "You said you wouldn't..."

"I'm not going to! Just take the damn thing off – it's covered in blood. I'll get one of the men to wash it"

Elinor looked down and saw that he was right. Her dress and shift we soaked with the blood from her head. But she couldn't be naked in front of this man.

"It's fine. I don't mind. I'll sleep in my clothes, thank you."

He lunged towards her and grabbed her hair, slamming her head to the floor. His weight was on top of her, his face close to hers. The wound on her temple started to throb again. She couldn't hold back a sob.

"I have limited patience with you and if you continue to resist me it will make both our lives unpleasant, but yours considerably more so. I'm offering you a chance to make things easy for yourself, but it's no skin off my nose if you don't take it. You're dignity is not my problem at the moment, precious."

He pulled her up again. She hung her head. "Please, look away." she pleaded.

"Not with your hands untied."

Elinor unwillingly pulled her dress and shift off, covering herself straight away with her hands. Her beauty was striking. Small breasts hung pert and perfect on a narrow chest, dusky coloured nipples standing out against her pale skin. Her waist was narrow, her hips petite, her vulnerability enticing as she knelt there with her blonde hair cascading down in front of her face, a few leaves and twigs hanging in the delicate strands. The captain sighed. This was going to be a trial. Already his penis was swelling, and as he took her wrists again to tie them to the tent pole, he relished being able to fit one of his hands around her slender, pale wrists, and resisted the urge to run a hand up that smooth arm, to that elegant neck.

Passing her clothes outside the tent with orders for them to be washed, he called for a cloth and basin. That cut on her forehead needed cleaning out. Surprisingly, the girl acquiesced when he started to clean the blood and dirt from her face. There was something cloudy in her eyes though; she seemed exhausted. When he started to clean the cut itself she winced, pulling her head back, but he held her firmly until it was done. The cut was quite small, and would heal quickly. As soon as he let her go, she wriggled to the other side of the tent, but was unable to cover herself with her hands tied. Nikolai sighed, and pulled a blanket over her, resisting the urge to press it around her. He rolled over to sleep, telling himself it was all necessary, that he was doing her a favour, that she'd be fine with it all in a day or two, but he couldn't shut out the sound of her stifled crying. He felt like a wretch.



The Captive Bride Ch. 03



It was late evening. The sun was setting over the rolling fields, but there was a good view for miles in every direction. They'd ridden hard for several nights since they'd picked up the girl, and had left the forest behind them the day before, but there had been rains which had washed parts of the road away, making night travel too dangerous. They were well over the border now, but not yet to safety: the rival faction in the civil war held sway over this area, which was more fertile and densely populated, with small villages every mile or two along the road. That had meant more barns to raid, and more cattle to steal for food, but they were running a greater risk of detection. 

Captain Nikolai had joined his sergeant on guard duty, bringing with him a small hip flask containing the last of his whisky, and they'd enjoyed it together. He stared out towards the horizon, but his thoughts were back in the tent, with Elinor. She'd been submissive and passive since they'd got her, resisting little and saying less, but it disquieted him. She was smart, and well-born, and he doubted she was broken. He'd have to keep a close eye on any escape attempts.

He hated to admit it, but she was captivating him. There was something in the way she moved and held her body which was graceful and lithe, and utterly delightful. Nikolai had never married, finding most women bored him quickly, but he didn't think he could ever become bored in Elinor's presence. He was increasingly struggling with the idea of having to hand her over to his lord.

His relief came, and he left his post, warmed and fuzzed slightly by the alcohol. The company had found an old barn to conceal themselves in, and Ilya threw himself down in the hay, while Nikolai made his way upstairs.

Elinor was there, in her shift. She lay on her back with her arms tied above her head, the blanket pushed down as it was a hot night. Her long hair fanned out around her head, he face peaceful and her lips slightly open. Her shift laid her chest bare, and it rose and fell gently with her breathing. The thin white fabric could not quite conceal her dusky pink nipples. She was ravishing. 

Nikolai carefully sat down next to her. She didn't stir. Overcome by lust, his inhibitions loosened by the alcohol, he laid a hand reverentially on her chest. She sighed, but did not wake. Slowly, he began to run his hand up and down her chest, and along her neck, tracing a line from her jaw to her collarbone and down. He placed a gentle kiss on her throat, tasting a little salt. His cock was throbbing now, so he loosened his trousers. He knew he should leave her, but he couldn't drag himself away; just a little more, a little longer. Reaching inside her shift, he cupped is hand around her breast. It was firm but soft, and the nipple hardened as he ran his thumb across it. Unable to resist any longer, he ran his hand down her body, over the smooth curve of her stomach and her mound, until his hand was cupped above her most intimate parts. He pressed his finger down gently, and could feel her clitoris through the thin fabric. It started to swell under his tender touch, and his cock started to pulse with desire.

Elinor stirred. She could feel there was someone near her, leaning over her, and in an instant she was terrified. Then the felt someone pushing at her maidenhead. She drew in breath, and started to scream, but a hand was quickly slammed over her mouth. The man moved on top of her, and she could see now that it was Nikolai, and smelled the whisky on his breath. He'd promised... but now he was tugging at her shift, leaving her exposed, and despite her impotent struggles had managed to slip his legs between hers. Something hard and warm was pressing against her opening. She gasped with fear, but she was feeling something else as well, a new feeling, like excitement and nervousness and anticipation. His body was pressing against her, and she could feel his hard chest and muscular legs, one hand on her mouth still, and the other stroking her hair. He was moving his hips a little, so that that thing which was touching her down there moved back and forwards, touching her and moving away, in a way which made her want to moan, but not with pain. She was terrified that he would take her virginity. Nikolai sighed, and she looked up into his eyes. He started at her for a moment, then rolled off her and removed his hand from her mouth. The sensations stopped at once, and Elinor was surprised to feel a little disappointment, mixed in with the fear and anger. He was sitting next to her now, head in hands, and said nothing to her as he pulled himself up and left. Elinor felt herself relax, but she did not sleep again that night.

Nikolai had a headache the next morning, and as soon as he woke he remembered what he'd done the night before. Shit. She was getting under his skin, and he couldn't risk bringing her back to the castle if she wasn't intact. They were only four days' ride away now, and the next day would bring them into allied territory. He'd be able to relax a little then. Sighing, he got up and walking over to where she was sleeping, or pretending to sleep. He never thought he'd go soft over a woman. Maybe it was time to leave soldiering for good. 



The Captive Bride Ch. 04



Laughter and shouts filled the warm air, the smell of smoke mixing with the smell of ale and the yellow light from the large bonfire casting shadowy light on the faces of the soldiers. They had ridden into the land of Prince Matyev, who was allied to their lord, and for the first time secrecy was no longer necessary. Something of a party was underway. They'd bought a couple of casks of ale from a nearby farm and it was being generously handed out, and the inebriated troops were gambling, singing and dancing under the clear stars.

Elinor sat by the fire, next to the captain. Her hands had been untied, as he had told her she wouldn't get anywhere by running away here, where the locals would hand her over in an instant. She didn't believe him. Pretending to drink her ale, she watched as the company got rowdier and rowdier, and less and less attentive, looking for the opportunity, waiting for the moment. She knew she had to get away. She'd been scared by the captain's loss of control. How much longer before he hurt her? How much longer before something happened which would prevent her from going home?

Well past midnight, her chance came. A fight had broken out over one of the card games, and although Ilya had managed to break the men up, he had to call for the captain to sort it out. Nikolai got up and left her sitting by the fire. All the attention was on the two men on the other side of the bonfire; the soldiers were shouting, arguing, taking sides. She stood up slowly and, keeping low, walked away from the fire and into the darkness, slowly at first and then faster and faster. The shouts of the men faded behind her. Her heart hammered in her chest, he ears desperately listening for the sounds of running footsteps behind her. None came. She ran further and further, heading for an area of woodland she could dimly see in the light of the crescent moon. They hadn't noticed. They weren't coming after her. She was free...

As the glow of dawn appeared at the horizon, the party was winding down. The ale had run out and the headaches had begun. Time to catch a few hours' sleep – they still had three days' ride to the castle. Nikolai went to get Elinor. She wasn't where she'd been sitting all night. He called to Ilya, and it took them little time to realise that she was gone.

The captain swore, screaming at some of the soldiers that they should have been more vigilant, but he knew it was his fault. Shit, shit, shit. 

"Didn't drag that bitch all the way just for her to split." Nikolai swore. "Fucking slut. Made me think she was so fucking scared."

He was angrier than he'd been in a long time, shouting at the men instead of giving orders, unable to form a plan. Ilya took over, gathering some of the more sober troops around him.

"She's probably headed for the woods, so we'll ride out for the villages in that direction, let them know we're looking for her. She'll stand out round her, they'll notice her and we can pick her up." Ilya wasn't worried. This was farmland, densely populated and well travelled. With no money and no weapons, they'd pick her up in no time, and with any luck before someone else did.

The soldiers were quick, and by mid afternoon everyone within ten miles must have known they were looking for her. They quickly worked out which way she'd passed. Ilya was right, she did stand out, and every village she'd passed through had noticed the foreign-looking girl in the red dress, though none had approached her. Early evening, and one of the scouting parties was in waiting at the bridge, the only river crossing for miles around. Sure enough, they saw her walking upstream along the bank, obviously too smart to try and swim. As she scrambled up onto the road they were waiting.

Elinor saw them waiting on the bridge, leaning lazily on its walls. Her heart leapt to her throat and her stomach twisted a knot inside her so she was almost sick. She turned to run, but there were two more behind her now, cutting of her escape. Her legs were weak and exhausted, and part of her just felt grateful that she could stop walking, stop listening to the breaking of every twig, the shaking of every leaf.

"Evenin', love!" It was Ilya. "You've led us a merry dance!"

The soldiers grabbed her arms, but she didn't resist. They dragged her to a horse, Ilya's horse. He was joking with the men. "Didn't get far, did she? Hurt your feet? Did you get your pretty little dress dirty? Captain's tent not good enough for you?" She spat at him full in the face. He slapped her.

They didn't let her sit on the horse, instead tying her across it like a piece of luggage. They were none too gentle, and the position made her knees and her back ache with every jolt. They were angry with her. She was scared.

The journey was not long, as they'd camped again further along the road. She'd unwittingly run them many miles towards their destination. Still, she was exhausted and aching by the time they got there, and more than a little scared of what the captain was going to do. The men were looking for a vent to their anger; they hadn't slept and they'd been traipsing across the countryside all day; it was only Ilya's discipline which was keeping her safe at the moment. 

The horse she was tied on stopped at last, and she was untied from it and set down, but not before the guards had manhandled her a bit. The captain was storming over now, and he seemed furious. He stood in front of her, fuming, and it took all of Elinor's nerve to look him in the eye. Suddenly, he backhanded her across the face. There was blankness for a second, then she was on the ground, blood in her mouth and pain in her head, gasping for breath.

"Bitch! Do you think we don't have better things to do than to run after you? What the fuck did you think you were doing? I told you. I told you you'd never get away, not here."

"You must have expected me to try."

"You've had nothing to complain of with me. You could have just stayed where you were put, like a good girl, and saved us all this fucking trouble!"

"What, and wait for you to lose control and rape me?" Elinor was standing again now, and angry. Angry at this man for kidnapping her, for expecting her to play along like some fucking pet, for hurting her, for what he'd done to the falconer...

"I said you were safe! I told you I wouldn't touch you!"

"But you did, didn't you! Couldn't resist getting your disgusting hands on me while I was asleep. Is that the only sort of women who'll have you? Unconscious ones?"

He hit her again, but she was expecting it and she didn't fall over again, or much care. Grabbing her upper arm hard and painfully, he pulled her over to the fire. "You haven't suffered a half of what you could have done, if it wasn't for me. And I'm going to let you suffer it now."

They were at the fire now, with the rest of the company of soldiers. He thrust her into Ilya's arms. "Do whatever the fuck you want with her. Just don't break her or pop her cherry." They all looked at the captain in astonishment, but he stormed off without a backwards look. Elinor looked around with fear at the men, who were now regarding her with a barely contained hunger. She was terrified.



The Captive Bride Ch. 05



Thanks to everyone for your lovely messages of support - they've made me smile and kept me on track for the next instalment!

This chapter is a bit more hardcore than the others, so if you prefer the 'reluctance' side of this category, you might want to give it a miss.

To the haters - yes, I am a woman. If my fantasies threaten you in some way, and you want to talk about traditional sociological and feminist interpretations of the female rape fantasy, please PM me. Otherwise, grow up and don't flame.

Much love, Bunny :)

***********************************************

Ilya held the girl in his arms as she sagged. She was trembling, poor thing. Hardly surprising. He was deeply uncomfortable with the turn of events. You saw things, as a soldier, and he'd had to fight alongside men who did things he couldn't reconcile himself with. Hell, he'd done some bad things too, when he was young. That was before he'd met his wife, and been able to stop regarding female beauty as a personal affront. All the officers he'd met knew where to draw the line, though some were more assiduous at enforcing it on their troops. But this... this was just wrong. He was pissed off with her for giving them the run-around, that was for sure, but she was a sweet girl and he didn't want to see her hurt. It was out of his hands now. The captain had given his order, and the troops would hold him to it.

He turned her towards him, trying to make it seem as if he was being rough without actually hurting her. A firm kiss on her mouth, just for show (but those lips, those soft lips, and the smooth skin around them made him linger), then he embraced her tightly, so he could whisper in her ear.

"I'm going to try and make this easy for you. I won't let them do you any damage"

"Don't let them. Please, don't let them touch me!"

Ilya's heart twisted with compassion. "I'm sorry. I really am, but I can't stop this."

She sobbed again. He was aware of his audience, and moved a hand down her back to her firm, pert arse, squeezing it. She tensed under him, and tried to pull away.

"You mustn't fight them. They'll hurt you if you fight them." What could he say, though? Her sobbing had quieted a little now, and he held onto her a moment longer, hoping she'd calm down a little.

Valya was standing in front of him now, and he placed a large, heavy hand on her arse and groped her roughly. "Don't hog the goods." He sneered. He was a thickset, tall man with a long scar on one cheek. Not acquired in battle, though: this had been inflicted on him by an angry sergeant who'd found him looting instead of fighting. Ilya despised him for his coarseness, cruelty and the sedition he sowed. But he was under the gaze of the troops and he had no choice but to push the girl into his arms.

Elinor was dragged nearer to the fire where they could see her in its flickering light. The man was clawing at her clothes now, trying inexpertly to remove them. She started to scratch at his hands, pulling them off her, but he slapped her painfully, leaving her dazed. She remembered what Ilya had said to her, and forced herself to lower her arms. 

Her dress was ripped and pulled off her, followed by the thin shift, so that she was standing naked in the firelight, trying to cover her breasts with her arm and with one hand over the triangle of hair above her pussy. Another soldier behind her grabbed both her arms, pulling them away to leave her exposed as he tied them behind her back with a coarse rope. She bowed her head in shame; she could feel the gazes of the men on her, and she felt utterly vulnerable. They were touching her now, more hands than she could count, rubbing and squeezing her breasts and arse, stroking her face, forcing themselves into her mouth and between her legs. She shuddered at the contact.

"Leave off, boys. Me first!" Valya ordered the men away, and the hands abandoned her. She'd kept her eyes shut, so she didn't see the big man swing a foot towards her legs. She fell at once as her feet were swept from under her, unable to cushion the fall with her hands tied. Dazed, she was unable to resist as he pulled her upright and meshed a hand into her ragged hair.

She was face to face with his crotch, and his other hand was loosening the buttons. His trousers fell and she saw his cock, swollen and red. She was horrified by the sight of it and tried to pull away, but his hand held her firm. There were laughs, and glancing sideways she could see that the rest of the soldiers were standing around them. Were they going to watch?

Valya was pressing his cock against her face now, teasing her with it and running it up and down her cheeks and along her lips. She could feel wet smears where it had touched her face. There were shouts – "Get it in her!" "Choke the bitch!" and before she could react, her head was jerked back forcing her mouth open.

The man's thick cock was pressed between her lips and he thrust it in deeply, hitting the back of her throat painfully and making her choke. He pulled out and thrust in again, leaving it there, while her gags and struggles massaged the tip of it. He started to fuck her, moving in and out quickly, so she barely had time to gasp for breathe between each thrust. Tears ran down her cheeks and she could do nothing but endure, and hope he would finish soon.

Valya was moaning and grunting now, turned on by his power over the girl, and enjoying the cheers from his companions. Elinor looked up at him, briefly, and was terrified by the look in his eyes. He seemed angry somehow, but he looked straight through her. She was no longer human to him.

The sight of her big brown eyes and her tear-stained face was too much for Valya, and he came in her mouth with a grunt. She felt the thick liquid spurt into the back of her throat, and as soon as he pulled his cock out of her sore mouth she spat it disgustedly on the ground, trying to get rid of the foul taste. Valya was panting from his exertions, ignoring the taunts from the crowd. He hadn't held out for long and they weren't impressed. So when he looked down and saw the drops of come on his boot where she'd spat them, he was not happy. "Lick it up!" he roared at her. Elinor looked up, dazed and uncomprehending. Maddened, he kicked her in the stomach. She fell sideways as pain blossomed inside her, clenching every muscle as she begged for it to pass. Ilya was shouting something behind her, but she couldn't hear what. Her senses gradually came back to her, and Valya had his hand in her hair again, holding her face next to his cracked leather boot. "Do it!" he ordered, and in fear she poked her tongue out and licked up the drops, trying to ignore the taste. Apparently satisfied, he dropped her to the ground. 

She lay still, shaking and unable to move, while an argument went on behind her. They were arguing about who was going to take her next. She sobbed again, but someone stroked her cheek gently. It was Ilya.

"hang in there. You'll be alright, I promise." She sobbed again, but nodded, grateful for the support. Another man walked over now, and pulled her to her knees again, making her head spin. He crouched in front of her and kissed her sore mouth, scratching his beard against her cheek, then reached down for her breast. His rough hands squeezed them, but not hard, rolling her nipples between finger and thumb. The gentleness gave her a strange feeling, like excitement and anticipation and nervousness all in one. 

He started stroking her face and her hair, running his hands along her lips and down her neck. "You're beautiful, so lovely. Look at you, so gorgeous. I'd love to fuck your pussy. Would you like me to do that?" Elinor shook her head, and the man laughed. He stood up in front of her and pulled his cock out of his trousers. It wasn't as big as Valya's, and instead of pulling her head back, he eased her lips apart with its tip. 

He was being gentle, and he only hurt her sore mouth a little. He didn't press his cock in deeply, instead moving it backwards and forwards quickly, relishing the touch of her lips and tongue on his shaft. The sound of his sighs and gasps, and the heady smell coming from the brown curls around his sack made Elinor clench a little down there. The feeling of his cock in her mouth was not unpleasant, and the touch of his hands was making her shiver quite pleasantly.

He was thrusting harder now, and his breathing became more laboured, when suddenly his cock jerked in her mouth and felt a hotness as he came. His come tasted sweeter and saltier. He didn't pull his cock out, but pressed it back and forth a few more times, to milk out the last drops "Swallow it." he gasped. Elinor was shocked, but did the best she could around his penis. He pulled out and walked off.

Elinor hung her head, caught between fear and guilt. She felt she should be struggling, fighting these men for her honour, but instead she was paralysed by the thought of more pain. She tried to ignore the little throbbing in her pussy, pushing it away for shame. 

There was another argument going on behind her now.

"Go on Mikhail, be a man."

"The captain said we couldn't pop her cherry." Mikhail protested. He was the youngest of the party, and was often tormented by the older soldiers.

"Have you never fucked a woman before then?" There were laughs, 

"Course he hasn't!" someone agreed.

"I have! Loads of times!" Mikhail claimed, to more laughs.

"Have you done one up the back passage though?" This was Valya. "Bet you haven't done that!"

"No..." muttered Mikhail. "But I..."

"What? Are you too pussy?" More laughs and cries.

"Don't be a girl!"

"Give the bitch one for us!"

Elinor didn't understand what they were talking about, but Mikhail seemed to have acquiesced, and they came over to her again. One man pushed her down so she was lying on her face. Another pinned her shoulders down, and two more grabbed her legs, holding them slightly apart. It was all done before she could struggle, and she had to concentrate on breathing with the man's weight on her.

Someone kneeled between her legs; she presumed it was Mikhail. Valya spoke, and she realised it was him pinning her shoulders down. "Go on then!" Someone placed hands on both her arse cheeks and pulled them apart. She couldn't help crying out as she felt herself being exposed, the coolness of the night air invading her pussy.

"I'll never get it in there!" Mikhail complained. The men laughed.

"It ain't that big!" someone laughed.

"Stick your fingers in first." Valya said "No, idiot, you need to lick them."

Elinor felt something hard and wet press against her anus and she screamed. She didn't have the breath for it, and it came out as more of a hoarse whimper. Something hard was pressing into her anus, stretching the muscles. It didn't actually hurt, but it was hugely uncomfortable. She started to cry; it was all so humiliating. Mikhail moved his fingers backwards and forwards, and she bit her lip until it bled, trying to endure the sensation. 

"Is she tight?" Valya laughed. "Bet this prissy little princess has never taken it from behind before."

After a minute or two, she felt herself loosen and the uncomfortable sensation became less. Mikhail must have noticed.

"She's gone loose."

"Yeah, they do that. You can fuck her now."

"No, spit on her first!" 

"This bitch doesn't deserve that." sneered Valya.

Elinor felt his warm spit land on her anus anyway and trickle down to her pussy. She was scared now and pulled against the men holding her, but she couldn't move.

There was laughter again as Mikhail pulled his cock out, but no taunts. "Not bad for a runt!" someone joked. She felt it pressed against her loosed anus, and as Mikhail pushed against her it slid in. Elinor screamed in pain, as her anus stretched out around him. She tried to beg him to stop, but couldn't form the words. He moved his cock backwards and forwards, gasping at the tightness, and the pain subsided. He was fucking her carefully, his hands on her hips, leaning down every so often to place kisses on her smooth back. Elinor started to drift, loosing her grip on consciousness, and noticed that at the peak of his thrust he hit something inside her which was a quite pleasant, and which built with every thrust, so that once she even gave out a little cry of pleasure. The men were egging Mikhail on now, telling him to fuck her harder, and suddenly he increased the strength of his thrusts, driving deep into her and causing her to ache deep inside. Just as she thought she couldn't bear it any longer he moaned loudly and sagged on top of her. She felt his head lying between his shoulderblades and his hands on her arse. The men were laughing again now though, so he quickly withdrew himself from her painful anus.

Elinor sagged. She hadn't slept for two days, hadn't eaten or drunk for a long time and she was aching in every bone in her body. There were voices around her, touches, but rest of the evening was a blur,. She remembered several more men taking her in her mouth and her anus, and being slapped and punched at one point, she couldn't remember why. Then there was just pain, and blackness.

Ilya had forced himself to watch the whole thing, and he'd had to intervene a couple of times to stop her getting really hurt. He got rid of them as soon as he could, but that wasn't nearly soon enough for the girl. She was barely conscious by that time. Furious with the captain, he wrapped her up in a couple of blankets and set her to sleep next to the fire.  He felt like a shit, and couldn't look at her for guilt and compassion. This was his last mission as a soldier, he swore.

*************************************************

The first thing to hit Nikolai the next morning was a hangover, a headache pounding in his brain and sandpaper scraping over his tongue. The second thing to hit him was a crushing guilt at the pit of his stomach. He rolled over. What had been thinking? Of course she was going to make a dash for it. He'd kidnapped her, for goodness' sake. He'd been cross because she didn't love him enough to stay. That was unreasonable, delusional even. And now he'd inflicted something terrible on her because of his own vanity. 

He crawled out of his tent and went to look for her, hardly daring what he'd find. She was wrapped in blankets next to the fire, mercifully asleep. There were bruises on her face and she seemed to have semen in her hair. She was in a state. 

He put a pot of water on the fire to warm, and woke her up gently. She flinched from him when she opened her eyes. "Shhh...shhh" he soothed her. "I won't hurt you." She turned away from him and started to cry softly. He put a hand out to her shoulder, but she shuddered and shrugged him off. He decided not to force it.

"Can I at least untie your hands? They must be uncomfortable." She paused for a while, then nodded. He pulled away the blanket, seeing more bruises on her wrists, arms and back, and gently undid the coarse rope to reveal red sores. She pulled her arms stiffly in front of her and rubbed the feeling back into them.

The water was hot by now, and he brought it over. "Do you want me to wash you?" She shook her head violently. "Fine. I'll turn my back." He turned around. She didn't move for a minute or two, then he heard her it up and start to wash with the warm water.

"Could you bring me my clothes?" Her voice was small, hoarse and timid. The captain went to find her dress and shift. They were torn, but they'd cover her. She was sitting up, covering her breasts with the blankets, but with her eyes averted. He looked desperately at her face, wanting her to meet his eyes and grant him a measure of absolution, but she didn't move. He set her clothes down beside her and walked away so she could dress, feeling guilt, and regret, like he'd never felt before.

They were breaking camp by now, and although some of the soldiers were looking sheepish he knew he couldn't chastise them for his failure. Ilya was glaring daggers at him as he saddled his horse, but he could recognise the captain's regret and didn't say anything. 

Nikolai walked over to where Elinor stood, gazing into the fire. She clung the tattered remains of her dress to her, silent and motionless. He gathered up the blankets, trying to ignore the blood that stained them. "We need to leave now."

"Leave me here." She said. Her voice was low and cold.

"I can't do that. You'd die of cold or hunger."

"I don't care. I want to die. Leave me here." Her voice was cracking now.

"I... I'm sorry, Elinor. You have to come with us."

Sobs wracked her body, as she cried violently and despairingly. Nikolai put an arm around her, but was shrugged off. He squeezed her shoulder.

"I shouldn't have done what I did." This was hard to say. He'd been a military man all his life, and had never, ever shown regret for an order he'd given. It ran against his being – officers were meant to be infallible, or to seem that way. "I was... angry with you because I... I feel an affection for you which you can't reciprocate. I acted out of pride. I'm sorry."

She looked up at him, meeting his gaze for the first time. There was anger in her eyes still, but it was confused; a man had never declared his affection for her before, and she was... she didn't know. But there was a flutter in her chest, and a little of her hatred melted away.

"I will never let anyone hurt you again." The intensity in his eyes showed her that he meant it. His face was torn between sorrow and tenderness, the ferocity of the two emotions flashing in his eyes.

She let him lead her to his horse, and he gently sat her on it, riding side-saddle in front of him. He put a clean blanket around her to keep the cold off. His arms wrapped protectively around her body as he took up the reins again, and they set off. Elinor was bruised and tired, but not scared any more.



The Captive Bride Ch. 06



They rode uphill for the next couple of days. The land became steeper and stonier as rolling farmland gave way to foothills and then mountains. On the second day they started to see patches of snow on the slopes above them, and by the evening there was a thin layer on the road, scuffed by a few wheel ruts and hoof prints. 

They made camp under some trees where the ground was clear. The fire melted the snow on the branches above them, so that they were showered gently in a warm rain as they ate. The snow muffled what little conversation there was, deadening the spirit. This was the worst part of the journey. They'd be at the castle by tomorrow evening, so they were tantalisingly close, but the mountain lands which made up Duke Alexei's fiefdom were inhospitable to travellers, the roads ill-maintained and inns few and far between.

Nikolai did not eat with the men, instead taking two plates to his tent, where he and Elinor would share their meal. She'd eaten nothing for the past couple of days, drinking only a little mead. She'd been withdrawn and silent and had avoided the rest of the soldiers as best she could. Nikolai had been trying to look after her, make sure she was warm, clean, happy. She pushed him away though, and he was deeply frustrated -- it was hurting his pride.

She was sitting in the tent with her legs crossed when he came in, staring blankly at the canvas. He put the plate down next to her, being careful not to touch her, then began to eat his own. Watching out of the corner of his eye, he saw with satisfaction that she was picking the plate up and eating a little of it. 

They ate in silence. Nikolai took the opportunity to take a look at her in the light. The bruises on her face were healing well, but she still moved stiffly and winced as she changed position sometimes. She had deep circles under her eyes, from lack of sleep. Many times Nikolai had woken in the night to hear her turning restlessly or crying softly.

"I heard them say we're nearly there."

Her voice took him by surprise; she'd barely spoken in two days and he'd almost forgotten what it sounded like. 

"Yes. If there isn't too much snow we should arrive by tomorrow evening."

"Where are we going?"

He'd been dreading that question, knowing he'd have to explain to her eventually. He wanted to protect her from what was coming -- her future life -- as long as he could, because he himself wanted to deny that this journey was ever going to end. He was still just as captivated by her, and wanted to possess her. No, not possess her; she was a shell of herself now, and he didn't want her like this. If things were different, he'd have asked her to be his wife long ago.

He answered carefully. "We are going to Narodnaya."

She looked away, cross. "You're being obtuse. I don't know what Narodnaya is."

Nikolai smiled inwardly, pleased to see some emotion. "Narodnaya is the town. We are going to the castle, the seat of Duke Alexai."

"This is the person I'm going to meet?"

"Yes."

"What does he want with me?"

Nikolai took a deep breath. This was what he was dreading telling her.

"He might want to marry you."

She was silent for a few moments, and still as a statue.

"Only 'might'?" she asked finally.

"It's probable. But he didn't send us looking for a wife, specifically."

"Are there no women in Narodnaya then?"

"No noblewomen, no."

"And the duke refuses to marry below his station?"

"He cannot." replied Nikolai, a hint of bitterness creeping into his voice. "If he doesn't marry a noblewoman, the marriage will not be valid, he will produce no legitimate heir and the estate will pass to the Prince."

"Why kidnap me, though? Surely there is a noblewoman somewhere in this country who will marry him?"

Nikolai cursed her tenacity. She wasn't going to like the answer. "You must understand, Elinor, that if he marries you, you will never want for anything. You will be respected, protected; your children will be heirs... Your life will be safe. If you die, he must mourn for five years before he can remarry."

"And if he doesn't want me? Will you give me back to the troops?"

Nikolai's heart wrenched at her accusation. "Never..." he said brokenly. "I will never hurt you again. If he does not want you, I will take care of you." He lifted his hand to her face, and cupped her cheek gently in her hand. To his surprise, she didn't flinch or pull away.

"Will you take me home?"

"Yes." Nikolai sighed. "If that is what you want."

A softness appeared in her eyes, and the unhappy lines of her face seemed to lift a little. He moved to take his hand away, but to his surprise she clung to it, holding it against her cheek for a moment before letting it drop and looking away, embarrassed.

"You still didn't answer my question. Why can't he find a willing bride?"

Nikolai tried to make the best of it. "He doesn't want a bride from this country. It is many years since he has fathered a child -- bastards, all of them -- and he believes that... he believes that the fertility of the women here is reduced."

"And is it?"

Nikolai thought hard. He was probably committing treason by discussing this, but she needed to be warned. "There are still many children in Narodnaya..."

"So he is infertile... but then, he shall bear no children by me, if he..." She was silenced by the thought. "This is to be my life then? A childless marriage to an old man who will probably hate me? To spend the rest of my days in the mountains, away from friends, from my family..." She turned away from him and sobbed in despair, aware of the hopelessness of the situation and afraid.

"I'm sorry. I wish there was a way I could..."

"You could have!" she hissed at him with white-hot anger. "You could have left my family alone. You could have left me for dead on the road. You could have let me run off. You could let me go now, but you won't."

Nikolai sighed. He was about to justify himself to her; she'd never make it home from here, he couldn't have left her once the men had seen her... but he forced himself to admit that it was his own cowardice which kept her prisoner.

He blew out the lamp and rolled over to sleep. This would be their last night together, the last night he would wake to the sound of her soft breathing, feel her warmth or find himself accidently lying against her slender body. If things were otherwise... but they weren't. He was going to have to live without her.



The Captive Bride Ch. 07



The last day's riding was tough. The small party made their way through long valleys bare of pine trees to a high pass, between two towering peaks which loomed over them. The snow on the pass was piled as tall as a man, and in places it obscured the road so they had to direct themselves from the positions of the mountains. As they cleared the pass and moved into the next valley, Elinor caught her first glimpse of Narodnaya.

Squat houses clustered round a promontory which emerged from the valley wall. The castle itself was on top of this rocky mound. It was built heavily of a dark stone and it looked ancient, primordial even, as if it had been carved from the rock itself by wind and rain. 

It took them another couple of hours to reach the valley floor, and an hour more along a bad road to reach the gates. The town was surrounded by a wooden rampart, with banks of earthworks and spikes defending the walls. Heavy gates barred the road in front of them. 

The captain rode ahead of the party, straight to the gates.

"Yuri!" he called, although Elinor could not see anyone around. His voice echoed from the valley walls.

"Aye, and who would that be?" demanded a gruff voice from one of the watchtowers.

"It's Nikolai, you deaf bastard. Now let us in!"

There was a pause, and then the gates began to swing open, pulled by two guards in a black and brown livery. Past the gates was a street lined with short houses, built of wood or rough granite, roofed with thatch. In the grey dusk there were few people around, but as the horsemen passed through the streets some came to their windows or doors to see them. The townsfolk were dressed in furs and dark cloth to repel the cold. The waved at the party in greeting, and one or two of the soldiers left the group to greet wives, mothers, sweethearts. Mostly, they started at Elinor. She drew her cloak over her head to try to disguise her distinctive blonde hair.

They rode through the town to the castle, and Elinor saw that it was bigger than she had first believed. There was still a bustle in the market and several taverns were open. She heard singing from one or two churches; cold, strange melodies.

The castle was surrounded by a wall of the same dark stone, and another guard granted them admittance. There were only a few soldiers riding with them now, and the rest peeled off to barracks within the wall. As they approached the keep, only Ilya, Nikolai and Elinor remained.

The gates to the keep were opened by a steward, an old man whose face as furrowed as a ploughed field. He called for a groom to take their horses, and then beckoned them in. 

"The Duke knows of your arrival, oh yes, he's been looking forward to seeing you, he has, come with, follow, come..." the man muttered to them.

Nikolai supported Elinor's arm; she was stiff and tired from the cold and the riding. He looked round at her, and cursed that they didn't have more time. Her hair was tangled with leaves and twigs, her dress and shift were filthy and, ripped as they were, she had to hug them to her to preserve her modesty. There were streaks of dirt on her face and hands. Hardly a fit state to be presented to nobility.

"You will enter the throne room, yes, directly, you will..." The steward had led them to a large set of doors at the end of a corridor lit by meagre rushlights. Nikolai passed Elinor over to Ilya, and pushed the door open.

The throne room was a far cry from what Elinor had been expecting. Instead of the elegant architecture and beautiful furnishings she was accustomed to, this was a low room, small and dark in the fading light with a few tapestries on the wall but bare flags beneath her feet. The room was dominated by a huge fireplace on one wall, which warmed it and provided the light. A few people sat on benches at long tables, sewing or eating, and a dog lazed by the fire. The Duke sat in a large chair at the far end of the room, talking quietly with an advisor, but he broke off abruptly when they came in.

"Nikolai, you have come back! I was beginning to fear you'd been killed!"

"No, father."

Elinor looked at him in shock. This he hadn't told her. The duke was his father... but then why did he run around like a common soldier?

"Successful, I trust?"

"Yes father. Lucas North is dead – but of course, Anatoly will have told you that. We brought back several pounds of gold, and some gems."

"Excellent. And the girl?"

The whole room turned to stare at Elinor. She kept her eyes down. 

"Her name is Elinor. She's the daughter of a viscount. Unmarried. We came across her on the road."

"And you brought her back for me?" He was standing directly in front of her now. Elinor did not lift her head, but she could see that he was a powerful man, despite his age. He wore wool trousers and a doublet and rich furs, expensive but not gaudy. A hand under her chin lifted her eyes to his. He was handsome and clean-shaven, his greying hair cut short, and his eyes were grey too. They started at her for some time.

"Do you speak our tongue?" he demanded, finally.

"Yes, my lord."

The duke smiled. There was something pleasing in her, a shyness in her eyes, though he cared little whether it was natural humility or fear. Seeing the form of her young body made him hard, and he determined then and there he would have her. If she pleased him, he would marry her. If not, she would be his courtesan for as long as she lasted. 

"Maria!" One of the women came bustling over and curtsied. "Take...Elinor and bathe her. Give her some fresh clothes, then bring her to me."

The woman took her by the arm and took her back out through the door. Elinor glanced over her shoulder at Nikolai, suddenly scared, but he was talking to the duke and did not look up.

They walked along more dimly lit corridors until they came to the kitchens. Here it was all warmth and brightness, the room warmed by several large fires. Servants bustled in and out and laughed and chatted as they worked. Maria's dour expression lifted. She pulled a tin bath from the wall and took Elinor through to the laundry room, ordering a servant girl to bring them hot water.

"My, you've been in the wars, haven't you! Deary me, you're looking thin and pinched. Have you eaten?"

Elinor shook her head, and Maria tutted, then called out into the kitchen for some food. As the bath was filled, she rummaged around in a box in the corner, finally pulling out a hairbrush.

"Let's have a go at that bird's nest, shall we? Hasn't been brushed in weeks, I shouldn't think!"

She made short work of Elinor's hair, tugging it and teasing it until it hung neatly over her shoulders again. By now the bath was filled and the made had put some herbs in it so it smelt pleasantly floral.

"Pop your dress off then, duck. I call it a dress, but it's more like a few rags now, isn't it?"

Elinor was overcome with shyness. She knew there were still bruises on her body. She hung back, clutching her torn dress to her again.

"Now, duck, there's no need for shame. I've raised four girls of my own and delivered a bushel more – in't aught you've got as I haven't seen before!" Maria laughed.

Elinor turned her back and slowly removed her dress then her shift. She heard Maria give a little gasp as her back was revealed, but the woman made no mention of it, though her face was a little grimmer as Elinor turned around. She stepped into the bath and felt the warm water soothing her aches and stinging her cuts. Maria washed her hair while Elinor scrubbed the dirt from her body and her face, and soon she began to feel human again. When the water cooled, Maria helped her out of the bath and wrapped her in a large towel by the fire. The servant girl brought in some stew, and Elinor ate gratefully.

Maria was going through her hair with a brush, and Elinor felt lulled by the sensation and the warmth of the fire. The knot of anxiety in her stomach began to unravel a bit. Maria had been silent for a while now, but she lowered her head to Elinor's ear and spoke softly to her.

"Now, pet, I'm going to give you a few words of advice because you're a sweet thing and I wouldn't have you hurt more than you have been already. The duke's taken a liking to you, and that's a powerful good thing here else you'd be on the streets with no-one to watch for you. The best thing for you now is if he makes you his wife." Elinor nodded mutely. 

"The duke is a good man, though he has his little ways, but he doesn't hold with women who don't know their place, see? So just make sure you're polite to him, and you don't speak unless you're spoken to, and you do what he says, no questions. It's a tall order but he'll look after you if you're sweet to him."

Maria stopped brushing as someone came in, and bustled out of the room, as if she were embarrassed. Elinor started at the fire, wondering how it had come to this. She was to be married here, and spend the rest of her life within these lowering walls. How long would that be? She'd succumb to illness, or he'd become displeased with her... The hopelessness crushed her to tears and she wept quietly, in despair, seeing no way out. 

Maria came back in with some clothes, and Elinor quickly wiped the tears off her face. If she needed to marry this man to survive, she would do just that. To fight or run would be a useless, prideful gesture and she had little use for pride any more. Calmed by her resolution, she slipped on the clean shift and dark wool and fur dress which was offered to her, and went to meet the duke.

Alexai was taken aback when the girl was ushered into his room. She'd been pretty before, but with her hair done and a clean dress she was stunning. She stood in front of the door, a delightful, childlike uncertainly playing over her stance. Alexai stood up slowly and came close to her, enjoying the scent of her newly washed hair. He ran a hand along her cheek and down her neck, watching her breath quicken. She seemed to be trying not to flinch; watching her struggle with herself was delightful.

"You are truly very beautiful, Elinor." he murmured softly as he stroked her hair, gauging her reaction.

"Thank you, my lord." Alexai smiled.

"Come. Sit with me a while." Taking her hand he led her over to the chair where he'd been reading. He sat down and indicated that she should kneel on the floor beside him. She sank down gracefully, without a word.

"Tell me about your childhood, Elinor. Who are your parents?"

"My father is a viscount, over the border. My mother was the daughter of a baron."

Alexai smiled again; she was highly born. He questioned her for several minutes, about her family, her home, her education. Elinor answered quietly and truthfully, trying not to betray her homesickness and grief. She didn't even know if her father was still alive.

He'd rested her head on his knee by now, and with her hair swept aside he could see the tantalising, elegant shape of her bare neck above her gown. She was young, virginal and no doubt fertile; her manner was pleasingly submissive and she was truly lovely. He was minded to make her his wife.

"Stand up for me, Elinor." She stood silently in front of him. "Take off your dress and your shift. I wish to see you."

Elinor tried her best to stifle her shame, scared that any sign of resistance would lose his favour. He fingers shaking slightly, she loosened the wide belt and slid her gown off, followed by her shift. She desperately tried to ignore the feelings of vulnerability and the little drafts of cold air which moved over her skin. Alexei had gone quiet.

"Turn around." he ordered sharply. She turned. "Did the men do this?" She winced as he ran his finger along the bruises on her back.

"Yes, my lord."

"And yet Nikolai assures me you are still a virgin. Are you?"

"Yes, my lord." Ilya had assured her of that quietly one evening.

"Who took you?" He was angry now, and the hand on her neck was gripping hard. "Nikolai? Ilya? Did they do this?"

"No, my lord. It was...the men...they..." She couldn't control herself anymore and she let out little sobs, wishing he would let her forget.

"How many? All of them?" She shook her head. He stormed off. She tried her best to cover herself with her hands.

"Who was the ringleader?" She said nothing. "Come on, I was a soldier once. There's always one who starts it." Elinor paused, realising the power she was being given. One face rose in her minds eye, its features distorted into a triumphant sneer and with it surfaced a memory of pain and humiliation.

"Valya." She said at last. "I think he was called Valya."

Alexai sighed. He embraced her gently and kissed the top of her head. "You shall have his life. It will be my first present to my bride."

Yes, he would marry her. He would enjoy the sight of her lovely face each day, and the touch of that slim body at night. She'd be a good, loving, obedient wife, he was sure, and as she dressed herself again and was shown out he let himself wonder if she would bear him a son, as handsome as she was lovely, whom he could be proud to call his own.



The Captive Bride Ch. 08



Thanks again to everyone for your comments and feedback. I know the turn of events has surprised some people, but let me assure you this story is far from over. I hope you enjoy it!

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Elinor was awoken early the next day. Dawn had just broken and the window of her small chamber, just down the corridor from the Duke's apartments, was filled with a pale yellow light. The maidservant did not stay to help her dress, but left as soon as she'd dumped the basin of hot water on the dresser. The room had grown cold overnight so she pulled her clothes on quickly.

There was a knock on her door shortly, and Duke Alexai let himself in without waiting. "Come" he said "You have some business to attend to."

Silently she followed him down the maze of corridors, trying to shrug off her tiredness. The castle was no less gloomy in the daylight, and when they stepped outside a new covering of snow had fallen. Elinor's hands and face were bitten by ice in the wind. 

He led her to the barracks, to a parade ground paved with flags. Most of the soldiers who had brought her here were standing in a semicircle, along with many she did not recognise. Nikolai was there, looking impassive, as was Ilya. In the middle of the ring was a man kneeling, hands tied, with two guards behind him. It was Valya.

Alexai took her hand and pressed something into it. She looked down; it was a dagger, its blade pockmarked with age, its edge newly sharpened. "I promised you his life last night, so take it. Enjoy it."

Valya was sneering at her as if to suggest she didn't have the courage to do it. She remembered what he'd done, and she was angry. She wanted to make him regret it. She walked up to him, and placed the knife at his throat. The ugly, lopsided smile didn't leave his face.

"I'm going to kill you now" she whispered to him, hoping to break that swagger. "Do you remember what you did to me? I'm going to kill you because of that"

His smile grew wider. "Go on then, petal."

She waited for some glimmer of fear or remorse to pass across his face, but he kept grinning that hideous, sardonic smile. He was chuckling softly now.

"What's the matter, petal? Scared if you kill me you'll never taste my cock again?"

He laughed at the hilarity of his own joke. Elinor saw red and suddenly wanted to hurt him, badly. She'd cut that smile right off! She raised the dagger and brought it down directly into his face. He really hadn't been expecting it; his eyes widened with surprise, but he was just able to dodge the blade and it sliced over his shoulder, carving a deep gash. 

Elinor shook her blade free, and blood flowed freely out of the wound. Valya was staring at it, eyes wide in shock, ashen-faced and trembling now. "Do you want to beg me for your life?" she demanded, grabbing a handful of his hair and forcing his head back, leaving his neck exposed to her knife.

"Please..." he muttered "Don't kill me...please!" She jabbed the knife a little, trailing red across his neck.

"Do you have something to say?"

"Sorry.... I'm sorry...I'm a shit... sorry...I'll never..." Tears were running down his cheeks now, and he'd pissed himself. Elinor looked at him disgusted. She couldn't kill a man when he was snivelling. She'd humiliated him, like he had her, and that was enough. She spat in his face, turned and stalked away.

Four steps later, she heard a liquid sound.

She turned back, although she knew what she'd see and dreaded it.

His eyes were wide, his mouth gaping, and as he gasped for air froth formed in the blood flowing from the red gash across his throat. His feet kicked for purchase against the ground, but not for long. One of the guards cleaned his sword on his jerkin.

Alexai stood behind her and pulled the dagger out of her limp hand, before kissing her hungrily on the neck. She was barely aware of it, as she watched a rivulet of blood make its way along the flagstones to stain the hem of her dress. Nikolai slipped away from the crowd, his face lined with distress, but that was the last thing she saw, before blackness clouded her eyes and she fainted.

She came to on her bed, and was sick immediately, unable to stop picturing the violence she had witnessed. Maria handed her a cloth to clean with. She sat up groggily. The light from the windows was warmer now, and she guessed it was about midday. She must have slept again. 

"There, duck. There, there. All gone now! Can't have you feeling sickly on your wedding day, can we!"

Maria brought her a glass of water and she drank gratefully.

"Thought you'd sleep for a day and a night, I did. Still tired from the journey, I should imagine. It's a good thing you roused yourself, pet, as we're off in a wee while."

"Off where?"

"Why, to the cathedral, duck! Fancy such a question! You're getting married today, and all."

Elinor felt the water turn to lead in her stomach. This was it, then. Her chances to escape were long gone, and her fate was to be sealed. This would be her life.

Maria was prattling again. "...have the girl bring up your dress, then. We'll have a go at your hair in the mean time. Sit yourself down, duck."

Maria pulled a brush through her hair and styled it into an elaborate knot at the back of her head. Two maids brought the dress in and laid it out on the bed. It was of white silk, with a mantle of white fur. Despite herself she felt a little excited about the wedding, the coronation, and being a queen. She'd never have achieved such a rank in her own country.

Once her hair was done they laced her into the corset. Elinor held desperately onto the bedpost as Maria pulled at the laces with strong arms. It took a good half an hour before her waist was small enough for the dress and by this time she was feeling a little faint from taking such small breaths.

Next came a petticoat to keep the skirts out, and finally the dress itself, which was stiff and heavy but very splendid. Maria placed the mantle on her shoulders and a veil over her face, before taking a step back to admire her.

"Doesn't she look a picture!" she sighed. Elinor blushed.

She walked slowly and carefully to the gate of the castle, where a footman helped her onto a white horse. As she held tight to the pommel, she was lead through the town to the cathedral by a soldier in livery. The citizens had lined the streets, applauding as she passed, but there was no cheering as there was at home. The people here were obviously more reserved.

AT the gate to the cathedral she was helped of the horse again, and in front of the crowd she felt suddenly shy. A priest, in his distinctive black robe and velvet hat, took her by the hand to lead her in.

"I don't know what I have to say."

"You say nothing" he replied. "You merely do as the archbishop directs you."

He led her through the door of the cathedral. It was built of the same dark stone, and small; not much bigger than a large church at home. Pillars supported the roof and a red cloth lay across the altar. This was almost the first colour she'd seen in this town. 

As she entered, the guests rose from their seats. There must have been four hundred or so, all dressed fine furs and velvets, but sombre colours. She walked down the isle passed them, but no-one smiled, or bowed. They just stared at her. In front of the altar stood Alexai with the archbishop. The priest led her to him, and he took her hand, smiling at her through the veil. 

The ceremony itself was very short. The priest attested on her behalf to her noble birth, virginity and good character. Alexai vowed to protect her, and she to serve him. Then he lifted the veil, kissed her, and led her down the aisle again. It was over. She was married.

They went back to the castle for a meal in the throne room with about half the guests, She was introduced to them all; the nobles, knights, squires, the heads of the guilds, the bankers... it all dissolved into a flurry of names. She noticed that she was introduced to them, and not the other way round. "Do I not outrank them?" she whispered quietly to Alexai. The duke laughed. 

"No woman outranks a man in this country."

She ate little, though the food was good, and before long the men retired to another part of the castle. Maria took her back to her room and helped her out of the heavy dress. Elinor groaned as the corset came off.

Maria brushed her hair out again, though she'd gone quiet.

"Did your mother tell you about wedding nights, pet?" Elinor's heart sank. She'd been trying to forget about his part. She'd sat with Anna after her engagement as her mother explained things oh-so-delicately, but in fact she'd learnt it all before from one of the kitchen maids. She knew what was coming.

Maria built the fire up and called two maids to take the clothes. They were all removed but for a little sleeveless shift made of linen so thin you could almost see through it. Before she left, Maria pulled her into a rough embrace.

"Poor pet, almost like an orphan, you are, with no mother for you on your wedding night. Now, there's no need to fret acos you'll like it, see? There's nothing nicer than lying with a man, take it from a woman with seven babes!"

She bustled out, and Elinor sat on her bed, alone, waiting.

She didn't have to wait long. The door creaked open and Alexai came in, dressed in a robe. In the flickering candlelight he looked mysterious, sensual. He handed her a glass of warm wine. "A little nightcap, my love" She sipped. "Finish it. It will help with the nerves." She gulped it down as he sat next to her on the bed stroking her arm gently.

"I've been looking forward to this all day" he whispered in her ear, kissing her jaw gently. "I hope you have, too. Did they tell you it's very good luck for a wife to have pleasure on her wedding night?"

"No, they didn't tell me that." Elinor was intrigued now, and the wine had made her drowsy and relaxed already.

Alexai smiled and ran a hand down her chest, pushing her shift aside to he could run his thumb along her nipple. Elinor gasped. The gentle rubbing was inflaming her desire, and she felt dampness in her vagina. Just then, Alexai put his hand behind her head and brought her lips to his. She felt his warm, soft mouth against hers and the thrust of his tongue as he pushed it between her lips. Involuntarily, she put her hands up to the nape of his neck, pressing him to her.

Alexai was pressing on both her nipples now and the sensations were making her shiver. She sighed, and lifted her head to moan. Alexai kissed her passionately where her shoulder joined her neck.

"Am I bringing you pleasure?" he whispered to her.

"Yes..." she sighed, too preoccupied for shame.

He took his hands off her breasts, and she sighed a little complaint as the sensations died away, leaving only a pulse in her pussy. He slipped the robe off, revealing a muscled chest, bronze in the candlelight. He took her wrist gently and laid her hand to his chest, running it up and down. "Touch me" he said to her, kissing her deeply again. Curious, she let her hand run down his chest to his stomach, which was firm and strong, but shyness overcame her and she stopped.

Alexai seemed to read her mind and pulled away from the kiss, taking her hand again. He placed it gently around his cock, which was hard and red now. Elinor touched it gently, and found the skin fine and dry. She wrapped her hand around it and squeezed, to feel it, and was shocked when Alexai groaned.

"That's good..." he moaned, and Elinor realised she was turning him on. She felt another shiver of pleasure, and more wetness.

Alexai shrugged the robe off completely, and pulled her shift over her head so that they were both completely naked. In the half-light Elinor wasn't shy any more. Alexai pressed his both up to his and she enjoyed the sensation of flesh on flesh, warmth on warmth. He pushed her backwards gently and lay on top of her, supporting himself so he didn't crush her with his weight.

"I want you, Elinor" he whispered to her as he ran his hand up and down her chest and thigh, stroking her nipple and fondling her arse. Slowly, he worked his hand round to the inside of her thigh. Elinor sighed with anticipation. She wanted very badly for him to touch her there, on the little button that was throbbing so pleasantly. His hand found its way to the slit in her flesh and he ran one finger along it, making her gasp. She could feel the wetness.

"You have found some pleasure already" Alexai said. Elinor could only nod. "I'll give you some more, if you like. Would you like it?"

"Yes, yes please..."

He placed a finger on her clitoris and started moving it backwards and forwards, the movement slickened by her wetness. Elinor threw her head back and started to moan and arch her back, powerless to the waves of excitement rising in her. Alexai gently slid another finger along her slit, moving it up and down between the lips there, and lowered his mouth to her nipple, flicking it with his tongue and pressing his mouth onto it.

Elinor was overcome by the sensations and in only a few seconds she felt every muscle in her body tense as wave after wave of pleasure crashed through her, causing her pussy to squeeze and pulse as colours and lights flashed in front of her eyes, Distantly, from her island of pleasure, she heard someone cry out. As the sensation passed she was left panting, feeling utterly relaxed. Alexai was kissing her cheek.

"My, my" he smiled. "That was quite a climax."

He rolled over and pushed her legs gently apart wit his. She felt his penis against her stomach, but she didn't mind it at all.

"Would you like some more?"

She nodded, drunk from the wine and the pleasure. Alexai smiled again.

"This may hurt a little at first, but if you're brave it will be very pleasurable for you."

He put his hand between them to take hold of his cock, and nestled it between her lips at the opening of her vagina. She sighed, feeling the pleasure rise again. Gently, he pushed his hips down, pressing his penis into her. There was a pain at first, but it was numbed by the alcohol. He pressed it in a little way then pulled it out again, gasping at the sweet tightness of her vagina. After a few more gentle thrusts the pain evaporated and Elinor started to enjoy the sensation of being stretched a little, of her vagina squeezing down gently on his cock.

Alexai moaned, turned on by the sensation of being inside her, of having her vagina wrapped tightly around his cock. Unable to control himself any longer, he started to thrust harder and faster, gripping on to her shoulders and gasping with pleasure. Elinor moaned as his cock hit something good inside her which was bringing her more pleasure, twenty times what she'd felt before. She cried out a little louder each time, her excitement growing with each thrust, until she couldn't hold out any longer and screamed out loud, writhing on the bed under his weight. Alexai gripped her shoulders almost painfully and gave three more thrusts, pressing his cock in as deep as it would go, then came inside her with a cry as his cock spasmed in pleasure which he watched her eyes go glassy from the orgasm.

He rolled off her, sweat dripping from his brow, and recovered his breath a little before pulling her slim body towards him so he could embrace her. She was almost asleep now, tired from excitement and wine and pleasure.

"I think...I think I will be quite satisfied being your wife" she muttered sleepily.

Alexai chuckled and kissed her on the head. He waited until she was asleep, then gently extricated himself from the embrace and pulled his robe back on. Sweet as she was, he couldn't abide sharing a bed.