The Taking

He had been on patrol all night and was cold, tired and mentally drained, and had just stretched out onto his furs and closed his eyes when he heard a noise on the platform of his wagon. Reaching for the quiva that always lay beside his head and sat up. Shaking his head to clear it he got up and went to untie the flaps and saw something unexpected.



Knelt there in the icy platform was that girl that belonged to Cana with a covered bowl in her hands and a bota over her shoulder. He was not happy and growled at her to ask what in the name of bosk she was doing knelt there. The wince could not be missed but she drew a breath and told him that the mate of her Mistress had told her to bring him a meal when he got in from patrol. She offered up the bowl and the bota. Rubbing his hand over his scarred face he motioned for her to come in, and tied the flaps closed behind her.



She knelt again with the bowl and bota and for a brief instant looked up at him then quickly lowered her eyes as she held the bowl out to him. Sitting down on the platform of furs he motioned her closer and you would have thought he threatened her very life. She did scoot closer holding the bowl up which he took and uncovered. Inside were strips of tarsk, fluffy eggs and two rolled up pieces of still warm flatbread. Hunger overtook him and he began to eat like a man that was starving, which he was.



She quietly asked if he had a mug and he pointed to one on a shelf. Standing she went to fetch it and returned to fill it with hot blackwine from the bota and held it up for him to take when he wished. Taking the mug he chew and watched her and finally asked what her name was. She whispered kasra, if it pleased him. Please him? He could care one way or another but he needed something to call her by.



He asked why she was trembling and she could not answer. Leaning closer he lifted her chin so that he could see her face which wasn't bad to look at. Again he asked if she trembled from the cold or from fear. She swallowed and that faint whisper told him both. His thumb ran over her lips as she spoke and he watched her closely and asked why? She had no real answer for him, which irked him a little but he kept asking. It took time but he was able to get her to put into words that all men scared her.



Sitting back he studied her as he drank his blackwine. Now this was an odd girl. He knew she had been in her collar for a long time because Cana said she had owned the girl since before the oldest boy was born, so it wasn't a matter of the newness being a part of her fear. He was blunt and asked her if she had ever served the needs of a man and that was when the tears began to drip from the corners of her eyes as she shook her head. When he asked why she told him that the Mistress had bought her not too soon after a man had collared her in her small village and that none of the men that the woman had been mated too seemed to have interest in her.



This fascinated him a little. He told her to take off the coat and boots so he could get a better look at her. For a ihn, he thought she was going to bolt but she did as she was told and removed the heavy coat and the boots and went back to kneel and that was when he stopped her. He motioned with his hand for her to turn around, which she did slowly. She had some training somewhere because when she turned she reached up to hold the mass of brow curls up and away from her body.



Now, it is hard to assess a slave when they are wearing leathers and a tunic due to the weather, but he could tell that the form beneath the clothes could be appealing. When she faced him again her eyes cast to his bare feet he told her to come closer. With a tremble she stepped within his reach.



Now he has trained kaiila foals before. Some you have to do it with a firm hand and brute strength and others you have to be more gentle with. This girl would take the latter. He never gave a thought that she was owned by someone else. There was no such thing as reserving a slave among them. That was a dweller notion.



Reaching out his large fingers wrapped around her wrist completely encircling it then some. He could feel the delicacy of it and how small the bones were, how fragile they were. With only the smallest pressure he could destroy that wrist and for some reason this sent a thrill through him. But, he simply pulled her closer motioning for her to sit on his thigh. There was just something delicious in how her body trembled when she sat, and how the curve of her buttocks seemed to fit where it lay.



He lifted a piece of the flatbread and put it to her lips and told her to eat. He noticed that the brown eyes that looked to him had flecks of gold in them and were pretty in away, and the lips that parted for the bread seemed to beg kissing, but she was not aware of it. His arm wrapped around her a large hand coming to rest on her hip pulling her closer to his chest. He continued to feed her along with eating himself, watching how her jaw moved when she chewed, finding it fascinating.



There was just something that appealed to him about the terror that she held in her soul. Setting the empty bowl down his hand lifted to her face again, calloused fingers caressing her cheek then rubbing across her lips. Now, was that shiver that just ran through her body different? He would test and see. Turning her face towards him he leaned in and took her lips in a kiss. Not a rape of kiss like he would one of the normal sluts that he took his pleasure with, but a firm exploration of those soft, full lips. And there it was, that tremble again. It almost made him smile. Almost. Again he caressed her face and looked into her eyes. There was a light there, it was hidden deeply but there was something there. His voice was low and firm when he told her to stand and undress. And there it was, in those eyes, a flash of terror. And that terror affected him more than she could ever know.



When she stood she undressed with trembling fingers, dropping the clothing to the floor. How had his brother missed this? Her body was one that men should be paying more attention to. The breast were firm, round and tipped with pinked nipples that were already in tight little buds. There was no excess fat on her, the entire body taut, toned and supple. Her skin was almost golden where it had been kissed by the Central Fire. Right now it was covered by those small bumps of fear and cold but still exquisite. He told her to nadu and slowly she lowered to her knees with them only a few horts apart as she would around a woman. His bare foot snaked out to press the knees farther apart until he could fully appreciate what he had before him.



He motioned for her to stand and told her to display for him. She rose with a grace that surprised him and slid her feet apart, her slender arms moving to again pull her hair up and hold it. He twirls his finger and tells her to turn around which she does. Her back was as lovely as her front. The delicate shelf of shoulders, the straight line of bones of her spine that ran down her back, her rib cage lifting and falling with her breath. The waist was tiny, a man could encircle it with his hands and her hips flared just right and there was enough there to grasp. He could almost envision how that flesh would look with the reddened print of his palm on them.



Standing he moved in close to her running his hand down her side and around her stomach to embrace her, pull her closer to him, his fingers playing lightly in that soft down of hair at the juncture of her legs. Lowering his head he inhaled deeply of her and savored the way she trembled, and was that a moan coming from her? He would see. Dipping a calloused finger between her legs it searched out her moistness and he felt her knees buckle and his other hand went around her to support her. He saw the tears that flowed from her eyes and leaned to taste them with his tongue. There was just something about the taste of fear that aroused him.



With not a word said he lifts her up and moves to the sleeping furs with her, laying her down and using his hands to spread her legs so that he could see all of her. When she tried to turn her head away from him, he leaned over and took her chin firmly in his grasp and looked into her eyes. "Never, and I mean never, hide your face from me, do you understand?" There was terror in the tear filled eyes but she gives a trembling nod of her head. Much better, much, much better. He longed to see the fear there. In some small way, it was his. The body, the fear and the passion that he could see in her eyes, were his.



Standing he stripped out of his leathers and loin cloth and moved to kneel over her, his hand reaching out to cup one firm breast, his thumb moving over the nipple, feeling it harden more. And all the while, he watched her eyes. If they varied or tried to look to the side his other hand would move to grasp her face and again he would tell her to look into his eyes. Moving to lay beside her he began to explore this treasure that had been sent to him. Fingers bury themselves in the mass of hair, feeling the texture of it, noting how there were strands that had been kissed by the Central Fire that had a red cast to them. Lowering his head he inhaled it. There was no flowery scent, nothing extraordinary, just the aroma of soap, water and cleanliness. He would have expected nothing less of a girl that belonged to that particular woman.



Pushing the hair back his fingers began to explore more. One trails along the shell of her ear and he studies the delicacy of it, how parts seemed almost translucent. Leaning in he kisses the pulse that was throbbing just below the surface of the skin on her neck, noting how quickly it pulsed. It was like the wings of a small bird beating a trembling tattoo beneath the skin, and when his lips touched it, it trembled faster. A small nip of his teeth tested it and he was rewarded by a sharp intake of breath from the girl and a noise from her throat. He was pleased.



Fingers stroke slowly across her collar bone and again he is amazed at the fragility of it, of how easily it could be snapped. Turning his head he could see that her eyes were closed, which would not do and he commanded her to open them. His hand moved to between her breast, to lay there above her pounding heart. If if beat much faster it would simply beat itself to death and that pleased him. Watching her parted lips tremble he was intrigued and leaned to suckle the lower one between his own, pulling and tugging on it, then biting down until he tasted the coppery taste of blood and drew a shuddering moan from the delicate little beast. Yes, it was good.



Lifting his head he stared down into those frightened eyes as his hand explored her breasts, cupping them, testing their firmness, their weight. He would tweak a nipple and watch the shock in her eyes and feel the tremble of her body and how the nub of nipple hardened more. At one point he lay his hand flat on the breast, massaging it and watched how she reacted how her throat constricted to suppress a moan.



Slowly he worked his hand over her belly, feeling the firmness of it, and how the muscles beneath the skin seemed to search for his touch. Lower and lower he went massaging, testing, teasing and the entire time, never taking his eyes from hers. The fear was there but there was something more beginning to smolder there. He would lean in, kiss the swollen lips, taking from them what he wanted and when he felt her begin to respond to his kiss he would draw back making her wait.



When his fingers brushed over the thatch of hair, just testing the softness of it, he felt her body tense and her back arch slightly off the furs and her eyes changed. The fear was there, but the desire was edging it out. Parting those sweet nether lips his finger slid along the moistness there and he got the response he desired. It is instinct in a woman to search for that touch, to crave and need it. It was just that no one had ever taken the time to train this girl in the touch of a man. She was like the fresh snow that lay outside on the ground, untouched, virgin. And wanting.



Those sweet, tender, bruised lips parted and the breath that passed from there was more ragged and the desire in her eyes divine. There is nothing more beautiful than the eyes of a woman when she is first awakening to desire and passion. His finger slipped slowly inside of her and he found that he was right. She was tight, unopened and primed. He did not go too deep, he would save that for later, but his thumb moves to that quivering little nub of nerves and flesh, dragging around it slowly, torturing her, and she responded in kind, arching to his touch. He teased and tormented her, watching her face, watching her body, seeing the heated flush flow along that soft skin. When her breathing grew more ragged and the muscles along her belly began to tighten, signaling she was about to release into the passion, he stopped.



Fresh tears sprang to her eyes and through parted lips, she begged. This was the moment he waited for, her begging for his touch, her need responding only to him. Parting her legs he crawled between those silky thighs and took his member in hand, dragging it along that silky wetness, still watching her eyes and feeling the response of her body.



His other hand moved up her body, beneath her shoulder to come around to her neck. Carefully he encircled that slender column with his fingers, and the fear came back into her eyes. The fear that she was to die at this very moment. That aroused him even further. Slowly her breeched the fortress between her legs, feeling the resistance that the virgin territory presented. Slipping a hand under her ass, he held her firm and there was not gentleness to it, there was not waiting, he simply entered her fully with one shove of his hips.



The scream that came from her caused his eyes to close as he savored it. He did have the kindness to allow her to adjust to the assault on her being, then drew back and began a steady pace of taking all of her. Removing his hand from around her neck, both hands were placed to either side of her head and his head was right over hers, watching her eyes as he plumbed the depths of her at his own pace. She became lost in what he was doing to her, her body writhing and thrashing beneath him, making the entire experience that much more sublime. When he withdrew from her abruptly, there was a moan that came from her that most would not imagine she was capable of.



He stared into her eyes, then reached beneath her and flipped her over, his hand beneath her belly lifting her to her knees. Kneeling between her spread thighs, he grasped her hips and entered her again and began an unrelenting barrage of her depths. As his passion rose, he drew back a hand and applied a firm slap to the cheek of her ass and gained much satisfaction from the redness that appeared almost immediately, and even more from the scream that sprang from her throat and the stiffening of her body.



Time and time again he applied his hand to her ass and each time he was rewarded by a renewed response to what he was doing. Her moans echoed off the walls of his wagon, and each time she rode over the brink and tightened around him, his own groans were mixed with them. Grasping her hips, he was unrelenting in his assault and when he felt his own passion build to the point of no return he reached to grab her hair, pulling her head up and released into her, filling her, feeling her throb around him.



When he was finished, he dropped her back to the furs and took deep, cleansing breaths as he watched the trembling of her body, and reached to run his hand over the heated palm prints of her flesh. She did not seem to know what to do now, and he pondered a moment as to whether to show her the kindness that could come from this moment, or to toss her out into the cold, to teach her just how abruptly it could all change.



Finally, he lay down beside her and pulled her into his arms, urging her head to lay on his chest, the hot tears cleansing his skin. Pulling the furs up, he said little. Little needed to be said.



"Now we sleep."