50th Spring
Ghalash Swamp
11th Bell
Ghalash Swamp
11th Bell
Wikus tried to control his breathing as much as he could, yet he felt the fear manifest within him with an intensity he couldn’t deny. Trapped like a rat, a bird sitting in the Granidile’s open mouth, unaware of how close it was to meeting Dira. What had begun as a morning in which he tried to get some knowledge about the swamp had turned into, perhaps, the day he’d perish. It was scary to think that it was to be this sudden, this unexpected. Was death always so sudden? You wake in the morning and you put on your shoes, not knowing that you perhaps you wouldn’t make it through the door without dying. The thought terrified him, shook his very bones, and so he was paralyzed. The dagger that pressed against his neck, damp due to the humidity of the swamp, made sure of it. His body trembled in the hold of the female, whom despite being of inferior height completely controlled him. Why didn’t he see her coming? Why had he been so naïve as to think all he had to worry about were the animals, when the biggest danger for him was humanity itself? A whine escaped his throat as he rose his head, trying to escape the edge of the dagger.
“Shhh, don’t struggle, pretty boy.” Said the female voice behind him, mocking him. Her free hand immediately came forward, sliding through his shirtless torso and moving to the front of his body, pressing her palm against his thin frame. “What is a handsome man like yourself doing in a swamp like this?” Unable to do anything but remain still, it seemed like the only way the female would find a reason not to claim his life. Suddenly, he felt her tongue on his back, relishing on his unnatural beauty as it scraped and tasted his flesh. Beauty had never been such a curse thought Wikus, unable to do anything about it. Furthermore, the female was not dissuaded, as instead her hand slid down his chest, moving past his waist and entering the limits of his pants. He felt her touch on his manhood, yet there was nothing pleasant about it – it was violent, harsh, and unwanted, even if her touch was menacingly gentle. Wikus didn’t enjoy sexual pleasure, and he liked it even less when it was unwanted. “Oh, a big boy, are we? I don’t know if I should eat it, or if I should… Cut it!”
The moment her last words left her, she jerked Wikus backwards, as one of her feet stood behind his and tripped him into the damp soil beneath them. A bit shocked by the sudden motion, he found himself laying on the ground, and before he could react, the female had already jumped on top of him, straddling him into the ground as her dagger’s tip was once again scraping his neck. Wikus’ arms tried to move, yet the female raised her elbow, clearly ready to impale his neck if it was necessary. “Uh-uh. Don’t even try it, pretty boy. You’ve got no idea how easy you’ll make it for me.” Wikus showed his teeth, as that was the only thing he could do to express his frustration. The female, with tanned skin, extensive tattoos across her face, and jewelry decorating her entire body certainly seemed like a scary rival. Even so, her wide grin and dead eyes made it easy to figure out how easy it would be for her to slash his neck. She was enjoying this situation, even if Wikus certainly did not.
She extended an arm and took a hold of his right palm, running her fingers through the freeborn mark burnt into his flesh. “A Freeborn, huh? Licked any Dynasts lately?” Without warning, her hand returned to smack him across the face. Despite not being as painful as it looked, his ego was certainly wounded. Defeated and incapacitated by a woman. “I bet you enjoy petching a slave or two a day, don’t you?” She smacked him again, this once with the hand that held her dagger. The hit was harder, and the pain was added to the humiliation. “Yeah… you sure do. You look like the type that enjoys pulling on a chain. You enjoy feeling superior in other’s misery. Answer me!” She hit him again, his jaw already aching greatly, Wikus groaning and wiggling in pain. At last, Wikus’ words were unlocked. “N-No…” He couldn’t help but to stutter, intimidated enough to even wonder if he was to wet his pants. Wikus’ struggle with insecurity was constant, and in dire situations like these, he had no other choice but to drop the act.
Shaking her head, she smacked him across the face thrice, harsh slaps that at least were delivered with her unarmed hand. The damage to his cheeks was minimal, yet the damage to his self-esteem was grave. “D-don’t kill me…!” He moaned, unable to do anything but to beg. Wikus felt his eyes wetting, at the brink of crying, head looking around to see something, anything that could help him escape. His hands began shaking, moved by the fear and helplessness felt in that moment, not even able to stand and fight in his last moments. “Why shouldn’t I!?” She yelled, as she took him by his top-knot and pulled him closer to her face. “Why wouldn’t I tie you to a pole and whip you until you lost every last drop of your blood screamed in pain!? Why wouldn’t I take the handle of a whip and shatter your knuckles so that you felt what she felt!?” Wikus’ tears broke free, closing his eyes to avoid looking up onto the face of the woman, to avoid confronting her. She knew about him and Konrad, about what they had done that that chained animal. She knew how his whip broke that man like an animal, how that female slave tried to protest and ended up with a shattered hand…. She knew, and he did too.
“Look at me!” She yelled in his face, to which Wikus could do nothing but to obey. He was at her mercy, just like that tied slave was at the mercy of his whip days ago. His scared blue eyes met her burning brown, locked in place and unable to do anything but witness the extent of her rage. She saw that in him, the fear and the helplessness, and so her attitude changed. Her rage waned, and instead mockery was awoken within her gaze. She was going to break him, he thought, torture him before she ended his life. Just as he thought, the wildling leaned closer and ran her warm tongue through his forehead, giggling afterwards with a wickedness he had never seen before. Afterwards, she pressed her forehead against his, eyes meeting in close proximity as her dagger pressed against his throat. “Your friend in the hat is not here to save you, is he? I’ve got you all for me, it seems… You are now my slave.”
Thanks to Gossamer for this amazing template!