Taming the Warlord

SHHHEEKKKT

She snapped her head up at the sound of the honour blade being drawn across a whetstone. Filled with malice, her eyes watched as he restored his dagger's edge. Ignoring the woman, he focused on his dagger, testing the sharpened edge with his thumb.

"Why are the Erra helping the Zults?" He asked suddenly.

She looked at him, her mouth a thin line of defiance. Her eyes drawn to that cruel iron in his hand as he held it against the bars.

"I do not like repeating myself." He stated matter-of-factly. "I would suggest you answer."

She opened her mouth, to show the crumpled silk deep within, her eyes lit with mirth at her little joke. Obstinate little bitch! He swung the gate to the cage open and stepped inside, stooping slightly as it was too small for someone of his stature.

She exploded into action, cartwheeling to swing her feet up high. Her heel struck against his full helm, knocking it from his head. He took the blow stoically and raised his arm to fend off the second. He observed that her hands were free as she clawed at his eyes. He swung to grab her arm but was hampered by the cramped cage, so she was able to duck and avoid his grip.

Scrambling from his swings, she grabbed his helm flinging it at his head. When he raised his arms to block the heavy missile, she dove between his legs and mounted his back. Her arms around his throat, her feet wrapped around his waist, she tried desperately to throttle him. He backed up hard against the bars crushing her between them and his armoured form.

Pulling her arms from his throat, he rid himself of her. Throwing her across the cage to daze her, he advanced onto her fallen beaten body. His hand clenched around her throat and lifted her to her feet. When she gasped for breath, her eyes furious, he pulled the silk gag from her mouth. Then the scent of her hit him.

He felt a stirring within his groin, a need for this frail woman before him. Her defiance only made the need more frustrating and inviting. He shook his head to clear it, relaxing his grip on her throat. Taking the cue, she twisted once more from his grip, dipping to snatch up the full helm again. This time she swung it against his groin hard. The helmet struck against his codpiece with a clang.

He grabbed her by the hair yanking her head back roughly. He fought off a sudden desire to kiss her and whispered menacingly in her ear. "If you don't settle down I will lash your ass to the bars and let my men try out your sweet pussy!"

She took him at his word and ceased her resistance.

"Restrain her." he barked to his guards as he took the helm from her hands. The guards moved behind her, grasping her arms through the bars and holding her still. The Warlord released his hold on her and called to a nearby soldier to bring him manacles.

The soldier returned quickly, handing the iron manacles through the bars to the Warlord. Turning to the struggling woman held by his guards, he advanced on her. Holding the manacles up before her face he repeated his question. Her response was a clenched mouth.

Taking an arm from the guard's grasp, he ran the cold iron along her flesh. She gritted her teeth at the pain, not giving him the satisfaction of a scream. He clamped the cuff around her wrist, ensuring it was fastened tightly. She drew in her breath sharply, her bosom expanding towards him as she arched her back at the agony. Hardened nipples drew his attention for a moment, he hadn't had a woman since leaving the Imperium on this crusade and he was feeling constrained within his dented codpiece.

Holding up the second manacle, he repeated his question a third time. Met with further silence, he clasped the cuff about her other wrist. Her body shook, trembling at the burning of the iron against her fey flesh. Pulling the chains attached to the manacles through a ring in the roof of the cage, he pulled her high until only her toes touched the floor. A gasp of pain escaped her lips as the cruel metal dug into her flesh. Securing the chains, he turned on her again, silently asking his question. She spat in his face and then slumped into unconsciousness, the ordeal overwhelming her.

Wiping her spittle from his face, he looked at her as she hung limply by her wrists. He spun on his heel and walked out of the cage, his guards locking the gate behind him. He turned to soldier outside the cage.

"No one is to enter that cage and she is to get no food or water."

"Your will be done, my lord." The soldier replied with a bowed head.

The Warlord walked back to his pavilion, thoughts of the woman weighing heavily in his mind. Why was she here? Is she a spy? Are there more Erra in the Zult army? Are they massing against the Imperium? What would it feel like to bed this woman?

He stopped with a start at this thought, his guards looking at him quizzically. With a growl he resumed his march, determined that she would not occupy his thoughts. The more he tried not to think of her, the stronger the thoughts became. The softness of her flesh, the strength of her will. Oh it would be a pleasure to break her. His fists clenched at that thought. Damnable whore!

Entering his pavilion, he clapped his hands angrily. The boys started their task of removing his armour, completing their task quickly as they perceived his agitated state. A boy ran off with the dented codpiece to have it repaired by the smith. The Warlord stormed into the alcove set aside as his sleeping quarters, pulling off his quilts as he walked.

Lying on top of the furs covering his bed, a slave girl rose on his entrance, having warmed his bed. She knelt on the floor and bowed her head. She looked up in confusion as he stood before her in his naked glory, his manhood erect before her. Never before had he wanted her pleasures, she looked up at him with questioning eyes.