(A/N: Hi guys - sorry I kept this so long. I had a sudden inspiration from
God-knows-what, and started writing more. So.Here it is. ^_^ And Lioness,
There really is no hope of her falling for Kaddar.I hadn't even planned to
bring him in. Sorry. I have plans for this story. A couple, actually.
Picking an ending for this thing is going to be hard. ^_^
She awoke in Ozorne's bedroom. She was laying on the floor, hands and legs bound together. She could feel blood running over her back, and some on her lip. The sting told her that Ozorne had decided a whipping wasn't enough. She groaned, and rolled to her side, unable to stand. She could see Carthak's emperor seated in a plush chair, staring at her.
"So the slave awakens," he mused aloud. She would have glared at him, but her eyes hurt so terribly. She elicited a soft moan, and shut her tired eyes. Her head was tucked into her chest - all she wanted to do was sleep.
Seeing her turn away from him, Ozorne stood quickly, and walked over to her. He lifted her limp form, and placed her none too gently on the bed.
"You will look at me when I speak to you!" He hissed. "Who were you following? How did you plan to leave the palace?"
She opened her eyes, and moved her head up slowly to look at him. Her face was calm, almost serene.
"I hope you're expected."
"Expected by whom?" Ozorne was growing impatient.
"By the Black God, because I pray that he'll take you soon." The second she finished her sentence, the emperor's hand flashed out, striking her across the mouth. She spat out blood onto his fine gold sheets, earning herself another slap. She swallowed hard, and rolled away from Ozorne, showing him her bloodied back. Ozorne cursed loudly, and turned her over once again, only to find her eyes closed, her body slacked. He checked for a life beat - after all, a dead slave was no fun at all. She was alive, though the beat was slow. She needed rest. Well, if she were more energetic, she would certainly provide more entertainment. So he untied her hands and feet, and climbed into the bed beside her. Let her wake up here, and be frightened. It mattered little to Carthak's emperor. On a whim, he magically locked the doors, just incase she awoke before him. He looked at her somewhat mangled form and chuckled. She was bleeding onto his sheets, but that was something that another slave could easily remedy. Her mouth was open slightly, and she was breathing heavily through it. Blood ran from her nose slowly. Her eyes were closed, and dark purple circles rimmed them.
Ozorne smiled, then pulled the covers over himself, and fell asleep.
She stirred.
It was hard for her to move her arm enough to pull the covers off of her. She didn't know how they'd gotten there, or where she was, and quite frankly, she didn't care. She groaned, and tried to sit up, succeeding only in falling down, landing on the floor on her hands and knees. She bit her lip in pain, and forced herself to stand. Farrah blinked, trying to banish the darkness that edged her vision. With one hand on the bedpost, she stared around the room.
It was familiar. And the man in the bed was also familiar. She looked at Ozorne's face. It was - serene, almost. Quiet. Peaceful. Farrah groaned. Her back was hurting something fierce; and her lip stung. She took a step forward, towards the door, leaning her other hand on the post when she nearly stumbled. Her legs felt cramped; she must not have moved all night.
Farrah swallowed hard. Her throat and mouth were dry. She breathed shallowly, knowing that any deep inhalation would cause her to cough - and she wouldn't be able to stop. She tried again to walk forward, but she tripped herself up, and had to clasp onto the board at the foot of the bed. She glanced at the emperor, to ascertain herself that he was not awake. She had to do a double take, seeing his eyes closed on the first look. She wouldn't have looked back up if she hadn't felt his eyes on him. Ozorne hadn't moved at all, save to open his eyes. It was almost frightening, seeing him staring at her in such a way. Her mouth opened and closed several times. Farrah glanced toward the large window that adorned nearly half of the upper wall. It was still dark out, though light began to touch the sky.
Without ever hearing or feeling him move, Ozorne stood to come and stand behind Farrah. Very close behind her. She stood still, absolutely terrified. Amazing what a good whipping could do to a young woman's courage.
He raised a hand to trail a finger across the lines on her back; she was still utterly naked. Farrah's breath came short and quick as pain moved through her limbs. The welts on her back felt as if liquid fire moved through them. Her fists clenched around the footboard, and her knees nearly gave out.
With rough hands, Ozorne turned her around, holding her arms tight enough to bruise.
"Now, then." His voice was quiet - dangerously calm. "Who are you?"
"Farrah of Tortall."
"Wrong answer." He lifted a hand and struck her across the cheek, hard enough to turn her head. She sucked in her breath, and started to cough, violently. Ozorne stood and watched as the girl choke, waiting until she had caught her breath to speak.
"You are a slave of Emperor Ozorne. That is how you shall answer. I've been far too lenient, and now you aggravate me."
Farrah tried to glare - really she did. The only thing she succeeded in was looking as terrified as she felt.
"Now. Who are you?"
"F-Farrah of Tortall." The words were less sure, and Ozorne smiled inwardly. Diffidently, he slapped her again, on the other cheek. Now two identical bright red marks stood out on her face.
"No. You are a slave of the Emperor Ozorne. Who are you?" His voice was harsher. The man grew bored.
A scowl began to creep across her face. "I am Farrah of Tortall!"
"No! You are a slave of the Emperor Ozorne. Who are you?" Another slap across her face, and one again the other way. She persisted.
"Farrah o-" She didn't even finish the sentence before Ozorne's fingers wrapped around her throat.
"If you cannot say what you are told, then perhaps you won't need to speak at all." His grip tightened, and Farrah gasped for breath, slowly choking in the vice-like grip. Her hand spasmed as she tried to pull his away.
"Please," she whispered.
"Please, what?" For a moment, Farrah refused to speak. Ozorne's hand tightened.
"Let go of me!" She was growing angry, and the peril to her life at the moment let her forget the beatings of the last.
Ozorne's eyes narrowed, and he threw her onto the bed. He pulled off his shirt as he climbed onto the bed. She tried to move, to get out of the bed, but green light glowed, and she was, again, held immobile. Ozorne stripped the rest of his clothes down, and viciously thrust into her. She screamed; he may have ripped her open before, but being brutally torn into was no gentle thing.
"It will be a long night for you, slave, of that I'm certain."
"No - I'm not - I'm not a slave!" She gasped.
"Who are you?" His hands were squeezed over her arms so tightly they bruised almost immediately.
"F-F-Farrah-" She couldn't finish. It hurt so badly -
Hours later, if one felt the urge to listen, words could be heard over screams and sobs.
"Who are you?"
"You're slave, Master."
She awoke in Ozorne's bedroom. She was laying on the floor, hands and legs bound together. She could feel blood running over her back, and some on her lip. The sting told her that Ozorne had decided a whipping wasn't enough. She groaned, and rolled to her side, unable to stand. She could see Carthak's emperor seated in a plush chair, staring at her.
"So the slave awakens," he mused aloud. She would have glared at him, but her eyes hurt so terribly. She elicited a soft moan, and shut her tired eyes. Her head was tucked into her chest - all she wanted to do was sleep.
Seeing her turn away from him, Ozorne stood quickly, and walked over to her. He lifted her limp form, and placed her none too gently on the bed.
"You will look at me when I speak to you!" He hissed. "Who were you following? How did you plan to leave the palace?"
She opened her eyes, and moved her head up slowly to look at him. Her face was calm, almost serene.
"I hope you're expected."
"Expected by whom?" Ozorne was growing impatient.
"By the Black God, because I pray that he'll take you soon." The second she finished her sentence, the emperor's hand flashed out, striking her across the mouth. She spat out blood onto his fine gold sheets, earning herself another slap. She swallowed hard, and rolled away from Ozorne, showing him her bloodied back. Ozorne cursed loudly, and turned her over once again, only to find her eyes closed, her body slacked. He checked for a life beat - after all, a dead slave was no fun at all. She was alive, though the beat was slow. She needed rest. Well, if she were more energetic, she would certainly provide more entertainment. So he untied her hands and feet, and climbed into the bed beside her. Let her wake up here, and be frightened. It mattered little to Carthak's emperor. On a whim, he magically locked the doors, just incase she awoke before him. He looked at her somewhat mangled form and chuckled. She was bleeding onto his sheets, but that was something that another slave could easily remedy. Her mouth was open slightly, and she was breathing heavily through it. Blood ran from her nose slowly. Her eyes were closed, and dark purple circles rimmed them.
Ozorne smiled, then pulled the covers over himself, and fell asleep.
She stirred.
It was hard for her to move her arm enough to pull the covers off of her. She didn't know how they'd gotten there, or where she was, and quite frankly, she didn't care. She groaned, and tried to sit up, succeeding only in falling down, landing on the floor on her hands and knees. She bit her lip in pain, and forced herself to stand. Farrah blinked, trying to banish the darkness that edged her vision. With one hand on the bedpost, she stared around the room.
It was familiar. And the man in the bed was also familiar. She looked at Ozorne's face. It was - serene, almost. Quiet. Peaceful. Farrah groaned. Her back was hurting something fierce; and her lip stung. She took a step forward, towards the door, leaning her other hand on the post when she nearly stumbled. Her legs felt cramped; she must not have moved all night.
Farrah swallowed hard. Her throat and mouth were dry. She breathed shallowly, knowing that any deep inhalation would cause her to cough - and she wouldn't be able to stop. She tried again to walk forward, but she tripped herself up, and had to clasp onto the board at the foot of the bed. She glanced at the emperor, to ascertain herself that he was not awake. She had to do a double take, seeing his eyes closed on the first look. She wouldn't have looked back up if she hadn't felt his eyes on him. Ozorne hadn't moved at all, save to open his eyes. It was almost frightening, seeing him staring at her in such a way. Her mouth opened and closed several times. Farrah glanced toward the large window that adorned nearly half of the upper wall. It was still dark out, though light began to touch the sky.
Without ever hearing or feeling him move, Ozorne stood to come and stand behind Farrah. Very close behind her. She stood still, absolutely terrified. Amazing what a good whipping could do to a young woman's courage.
He raised a hand to trail a finger across the lines on her back; she was still utterly naked. Farrah's breath came short and quick as pain moved through her limbs. The welts on her back felt as if liquid fire moved through them. Her fists clenched around the footboard, and her knees nearly gave out.
With rough hands, Ozorne turned her around, holding her arms tight enough to bruise.
"Now, then." His voice was quiet - dangerously calm. "Who are you?"
"Farrah of Tortall."
"Wrong answer." He lifted a hand and struck her across the cheek, hard enough to turn her head. She sucked in her breath, and started to cough, violently. Ozorne stood and watched as the girl choke, waiting until she had caught her breath to speak.
"You are a slave of Emperor Ozorne. That is how you shall answer. I've been far too lenient, and now you aggravate me."
Farrah tried to glare - really she did. The only thing she succeeded in was looking as terrified as she felt.
"Now. Who are you?"
"F-Farrah of Tortall." The words were less sure, and Ozorne smiled inwardly. Diffidently, he slapped her again, on the other cheek. Now two identical bright red marks stood out on her face.
"No. You are a slave of the Emperor Ozorne. Who are you?" His voice was harsher. The man grew bored.
A scowl began to creep across her face. "I am Farrah of Tortall!"
"No! You are a slave of the Emperor Ozorne. Who are you?" Another slap across her face, and one again the other way. She persisted.
"Farrah o-" She didn't even finish the sentence before Ozorne's fingers wrapped around her throat.
"If you cannot say what you are told, then perhaps you won't need to speak at all." His grip tightened, and Farrah gasped for breath, slowly choking in the vice-like grip. Her hand spasmed as she tried to pull his away.
"Please," she whispered.
"Please, what?" For a moment, Farrah refused to speak. Ozorne's hand tightened.
"Let go of me!" She was growing angry, and the peril to her life at the moment let her forget the beatings of the last.
Ozorne's eyes narrowed, and he threw her onto the bed. He pulled off his shirt as he climbed onto the bed. She tried to move, to get out of the bed, but green light glowed, and she was, again, held immobile. Ozorne stripped the rest of his clothes down, and viciously thrust into her. She screamed; he may have ripped her open before, but being brutally torn into was no gentle thing.
"It will be a long night for you, slave, of that I'm certain."
"No - I'm not - I'm not a slave!" She gasped.
"Who are you?" His hands were squeezed over her arms so tightly they bruised almost immediately.
"F-F-Farrah-" She couldn't finish. It hurt so badly -
Hours later, if one felt the urge to listen, words could be heard over screams and sobs.
"Who are you?"
"You're slave, Master."