The next few hours were but a blur, though she could remember the brutish Ryzkar lifting her limply retching form up off the ground and flashes of him carrying her back to the camp in the dark of night. She jarred to consciousness inside a large command tent for a brief moment, long enough to see a small fire at its center, a huge bed with pelts and blankets to the side. Her body was rudely dropped atop a large wood and metal chest, the curve of it impacting her stomach and knocking the wind from her.
Blinking away the sting of the impact and groaning in further pain, she lifted her head–no, had it lifted. Sharp claws dug into her scalp as her face was angled upwards. Struggling she could feel her limbs strapped down with something, unable to do anything in resistance as the grinning, fanged face of her captor greeted her.
The low rumble of his voice broke through her hazy mind, “Don’t let the surroundings fool you,” he remarked, “you’re still more than welcome to scream.”
She was too far from real awareness to do that, but her brain was panicking. She was alone, and now she wasn’t even familiar with her surroundings. At least by her camp she had the hope of being able to find her way to a weapon…
She blinked her eyes, trying to clear the fog, but instead she forced tears from the corners and betrayed herself to him. Her stomach lurched, and her body burned with hate and pain. Her mouth felt dry, and she tasted blood.
She swallowed painfully, her body instinctively trying to curl in upon itself.
The sight of her large, round blue orbs leaking tears made his grin melt into a smile. Bending down to her level his long, rough tongue licked over her scratched and reddened cheek up across the curve of her eye, tasting her bitter sadness.
The towering beast gave a low growl, almost a purr of delight if not for the edge of malicious terror his throat always bore. “You’ll do well as an amusement for now, I think,” and one of his large, clawed hands stroked down from her head, releasing her as he moved across her torn and ragged clothing. He felt out the curve of her body, passing over the strips of bare flesh, prickling and rubbing her skin there as he moved down.
Bile rose in her throat at his words and she found herself wishing for death. It would’ve been a courtesy and kindness beyond Ryzkar’s ability to give, however.
She was a curvaceous woman, her body toned from all of the hiking she did yet with a large, round ass and firm, heavy breasts. She still held some of the trappings of her upper class background, with her long blonde hair which, before he came along, was carefully brushed. Her bangs ended just above her eyebrows, and her fair skin was clear of blemishes, but for those he’d awarded her.
She was a prize for the beast of a man before her.
Tall and broad, he had divested himself, at some point, of his clothes and armour. He crouched by the side of the poor young woman, her body strapped down around the large chest by thick leathers.
As much animal as man in appearance, his broad chest and body was coated in thick black fur with a glossy sheen, except at those places at the center of his chest or face where it turned to gray. Stroking his hand down over the shape of her spine he came to her ass; it was here where her tattered clothes were at their worse. He had shredded them there utterly, leaving her still reddened sex exposed, her ass looking sore from his rutting.
Cruelly he rubbed his harsh hand over those battered stretches of flesh as he admired his prize, and a stirring of desire was exposed as, from between his thighs, a thickness arose in the dim tent.
“You won’t last long, pretty thing,” he murmured, “which is a shame. I would enjoy defiling you for a very long time. But you’re too weak to take it.”
Despite it all, she felt an anger and defensiveness rising within her at his words. His pity was all it took to get her over her death wish and vow that she would never succumb because of him. Determination gleamed in her eyes as her body tensed.
She would not egg him on, or dare him to try. She would not state her defiance, but something had changed in those brief seconds, and she was reborn a new woman. He would not take her down so easily.
Perhaps he quietly noted her change in demeanor, or not. Either way he continued to stroke her form, his second hand coming up along her neck to cup beneath her chin. “Foolish me,” he chided himself mockingly, “I forgot to disrobe you before I tied you up.” He stuck a sharp claw in under her shredded leather just above her tailbone, “We’ll have to do this the hard way,” he stated.
She almost preferred him slicing it off rather than struggling to pull the tight leather off her body. He was none too delicate, however, and she knew that no matter what he did to her, it wouldn’t be pleasant.
True to her belief and with agonizing slowness, his sharp, almost dagger like claw began to cut through the material, all the while pricking or cutting at her smooth skin beneath. It was a torturous motion, slicing up in an uneven manner along her body.
As her blood rose to the surface, she winced, shying away and trying to make herself small against the chest so that he’d nick her as little as possible, but there was little respite. When she moved down, so too did his nails, and she tried her best to breath through the pain.
A long, slow breath in. Held for a count of ten. Exhale.
It felt like an eternity before she felt the material fall away from her, but even that relief was short lasted. Her nethers were battered and bruised from the brutish rutting of earlier, and she knew he was not done.
She only hoped her body could match her mental determination.
Releasing her chin he grasped the now sliced open upper portion of her body suit. Wrenching it away from beneath her, it caught, still wrapped snugly around her legs. He brought his menacing claw back down, this time starting the slice from her battered nethers with a pointed prick.
Grinning at the sight, his fleshy, dark-skinned shaft was swollen before him as he watched her tremble atop the chest large enough to support her whole body. When at last she was stripped down to her naked body he flung the now destroyed garment away and bent down over her back.
Even through the bruises and cuts, some of her elegant, regal beauty shone through, and he licked his way up the line of red across her back, tasting her blood before breathing heavily into her ear.
The salt of his mouth burned her fresh wounds, and she tried to swallow, but her throat was too dry. Still, she managed to choke out a quiet plea, “If you are careful, I will last you longer. Forever.” She melted atop the chest, her body going lax with subservience in demonstration, “You will never need or want another.”
Her desperate plea elicited a cruel and heartless laugh from the monster. A hot wash of his breath across her neck and ear accompanied his cruel humour, followed by the press of molten hot flesh against her stinging nethers. His cock throbbed against her as he angled himself behind and atop her.
Speaking lowly into her ear, one of his coarse hands stroked along her hip up to the side of her breast, “If I was careful I wouldn’t get what I need or want, foolish thing.”
“You can have your fun without,” she paused, her voice so dry she was having trouble speaking, “breaking me,” she promised. Her body was so red, flushed from the cold and the blood and her heated anger. She wasn’t even embarrassed at being exposed so, though as a noblewoman perhaps she should have been.
Instead, she was just desperate and enraged. She licked her lips and tasted the tang of blood once more, then shifted. It was so slight with her bindings, but he could feel her pushing against his cock, urging him in. It was all she could do not to throw up as she felt him begin to sink into her torn nethers, and she cried out obediently.
Her scream rang in the air, and she could only hope it would be music to his ears.
Her attempts to please him at first simply failed, then surprised him. Eyes wide, he watched her body push back, as best it could, then a cry ring out from her throat.
The stunned silence didn’t last though, for before her cry was finished he forced himself into her, impaling her tiny form upon his oversized shaft. Ramming it into her forcefully, his hand slid up about her throat, able to feel the vibration of her scream there.
She didn’t stop. The scream became more real as she felt him irritate the tiny hurts that laced her body, and she allowed it to rise in octaves. She could only assume that there were other beasts around, and though it had briefly occurred to her that it was a bad idea to call that much attention to herself, she didn’t feel she had many good ideas either.
And so she screamed, and she bucked. She flinched against him and struggled against her bindings. She let go of all her reserves and all of her pride and tried to fight her way free, all the while knowing it was fruitless.
Her fingers dug little half circles in her palms and she tried to kick at him, the motions all but impossible, bound as she was.
Dubious of her sudden shift at first, the very real and very futile struggle was exquisitely tasty to him. Licking his maw he bucked his hips, a thick tail swishing behind him as he gripped her neck and waist. He was holding her so firmly to keep his position right as he forced his member into her again and again, letting out low croons of pleasure at her desperation.
Her voice was croaking as her scream struggled on, and she was already tiring herself out as she battled him. His previous assault had left her bruised and exhausted, but she was still a fighter. She wasn’t going to let herself die, strewn and chained to a chest in some charr encampment.
She would show him her value.
As he continued to forcibly jam his over-large, veiny girth into her small slit of a quim, he gripped her throat tighter, until finally he was choking her, cutting off her air as he heaved into her to find his release. To think of her determination in the face of his brute force ravishing amused and delighted him, and he panted and groaned openly as his torso struck her tiny pink ass with the force of angry blows.
His grip was too strong. Her limbs slowed and then stopped their struggle, hanging limply against the leather, her head tilting down against his hand as her eyes rolled back and she lost consciousness.
When she awoke next, she couldn’t immediately tell if her blackout was but brief or long, for when she came to consciousness she was being roughly struck and rutted into as before. The same thick girth was lodged inside her pussy so painfully, striking at her depths.
It took a while to ignore the pain and soak in enough of her surroundings to realize it couldn’t have been a short blackout. Light seeped in through tent, and her mouth was drier, more parched than ever.
Ryzkar was huffing and grunting, not as pleasurably as she remembered. Undoubtedly, the lack of cries and pained responses from her unconscious body were failing to arouse him to the same measure as last time. Was it last time?
The black furred beast bent over her, two of his clawed hands clutching at her thin waist as he pounded in, nut sac slapping up against her quim as he tried to use her body to force out his release.
She coughed and sputtered, her hands flexing as she tested to see the limits of her body. She burned. Her body was alight with pain, and she neared the brink of blackness once more before fighting it off. She managed a croaked ‘stop,’ as she tried to readjust herself, to move away from the source of the pain.
Him. The charr behind her.
Her bangs were matted to her forehead with sweat, and some hair was covering her eyes, knotted up and dirty. She shivered, her scorching, wounded body seeming so much warmer than the cool morning air.
The beast gave a low groan, “You’re awake again?” he managed in his heavy voice, sounding quite happy with the realization. His harder rutting was the truer indication of his delight, and the sound of his pounding into her filled the large tent.
“You let me down by missing my climax last time,” he growled, one of his hands moving up to her head, gripping her dirty bangs and wrenching her back by it. “Savour it this time,” he hissed into her ear, jabbing into her as if his cock were a weapon.
She whined and nodded, feeling her hair be pulled as she spat out the words, “don’t choke.” She was unable to finish as her body throbbed against him. He had left her slightly more moist with his rutting, though it could never be enough to ease her pain.
She choked and coughed a few times, putting up a helpless little struggle as his cock seared into her small body.
Thankfully–or perhaps just due to him having begun to use her long before she gained consciousness–his assault did not last too long this time. His large, dangerously sharp hands gripped her waist and hair, and as he neared his end his thrusts grew slower, but harder.
When he found his finish, it was upon the end of brutal stabs that violated her to her core, battering down and breaking her womb as he spurt his seed inside her brutalized body. It was a searing pain she would not have imagined before he took her, and he reveled in it fully, each moment of agony seeming to fuel his orgasmic relief, each dribble of white seed into her.
She nearly passed out again, but through some force of will, she remained aware through the torture. She wished she hadn’t. For a moment she faltered, and she once more wished for death, but she held on. She held on to that shred of consciousness, and forced herself to be present in the act.
He would not beat her.
Her inner voice, though, nagged at her. He already had.
Breathing heavily behind her, he brought his other hand around to her face, gripping her neck and jaw as he twisted her head around to look her in her blue-green eyes. Still lodged within her, he asked, “How was that?” Then with a crude yank, he pulled himself free, causing a sharp splitting pain that outdid his final thrusts, while leaving a dull and ever present ache deep within her core.
“Like torture,” she reassured him through her broken lips, her throat so scratchy as to be painful. Her breathing was so much harder, once more trying to breath through the excruciating, head dizzying pain. Her entire body shook, and she whispered out, “water?”
Still holding her face he moved around until his thick cock was in front of her. Letting go of her hair, he gripped his still turgid cock and smeared some of the mix of left over dampness on its bulbous tip across her cracked lips. “Pucker up if you want a drink,” he remarked cruelly, though his sick joke didn’t last long as he laughed and moved away.