(A/N: ^_^ Please don't kill me. If you kill me, I can't finish the story.
_}
She lay on her side in the large bed, one hand underneath the pillow on which her head rested, the other on the sheets next to her. Most of the cuts on her back had healed, and left not even a scar. Farrah's eyes were half opened. It had been a long night. She was tired, and Ozorne slept beside her. Now was her chance to rest, the first one she'd had in what felt like days.
It had been weeks since he'd broken her. Weeks that felt like years. Since that night, she hadn't fought back once. His objective was to terrify her into surrender, and he'd achieved his goal. And he was quite content with it, as well.
Farrah heard movement behind her and froze, slowing her breathing. At her back, Ozorne stirred, and moved onto his side, putting an arm around Farrah's torso, to lay his hand on her breast. His elbow rested on the pillow above her head, and his head rested in the hand. He leaned down to kiss her cheek, and squeezed his hand around her bosom when he felt how stiff she was.
"You turned out to be a good slave," he whispered into her ear. Farrah said nothing, and he rolled on top of her, pinning her arms down with his own. She just lay there. Ozorne bent to nibble on her neck, kissing her eyelids, nose, cheeks, before finding her lips.
Farrah closed her eyes. He was in an unusually gentle mood. Someone else might have thought that a blessing - Farrah hated it. When he was brutal, it was easier to remember that she was Tortallan, and freeborn. When he was like this.
She loved him.
So gentle were his caresses and strokes, she barely felt his fingers running skillfully along her body. She idly wondered how many he had taken to his bed - and quickly banished the thought. When he was this way, she wanted to believe that it was different with her; that he loved her. That she wasn't just a slave to him, but a person. A woman.
It didn't hurt when he entered her. A blessing in that, at least. She sucked in her breath as he moved against her, and her hips rose to greet his. Ozorne's lips came to her neck, nibbling, sucking. His teeth urged the blood to rush to his mouth, and Farrah moaned. Then his mouth was eclipsing hers, and she felt a pressure building in her. Ozorne stiffened above her in climax, his hands tight on her shoulders. She cried out as the pressure exploded out of her.
He rolled off of her, to lay on the other side of the bed. His breathing slowed quickly, and he seemed no worse for wear. Farrah lay there, chest heaving as she fought to take air into her lungs. Eventually, breathing came easier.
Farrah turned her head to her emperor. He slept. She sighed, as unbidden tears rose to her eyes.
"Goddess, Graveyard Hag, why?" She paused, and looked back at Ozorne. Then she stood, and walked to the window, holding only a sheet around her naked body. Farrah leaned her hot head against the cool glass, and sighed.
"Why him?"
She lay on her side in the large bed, one hand underneath the pillow on which her head rested, the other on the sheets next to her. Most of the cuts on her back had healed, and left not even a scar. Farrah's eyes were half opened. It had been a long night. She was tired, and Ozorne slept beside her. Now was her chance to rest, the first one she'd had in what felt like days.
It had been weeks since he'd broken her. Weeks that felt like years. Since that night, she hadn't fought back once. His objective was to terrify her into surrender, and he'd achieved his goal. And he was quite content with it, as well.
Farrah heard movement behind her and froze, slowing her breathing. At her back, Ozorne stirred, and moved onto his side, putting an arm around Farrah's torso, to lay his hand on her breast. His elbow rested on the pillow above her head, and his head rested in the hand. He leaned down to kiss her cheek, and squeezed his hand around her bosom when he felt how stiff she was.
"You turned out to be a good slave," he whispered into her ear. Farrah said nothing, and he rolled on top of her, pinning her arms down with his own. She just lay there. Ozorne bent to nibble on her neck, kissing her eyelids, nose, cheeks, before finding her lips.
Farrah closed her eyes. He was in an unusually gentle mood. Someone else might have thought that a blessing - Farrah hated it. When he was brutal, it was easier to remember that she was Tortallan, and freeborn. When he was like this.
She loved him.
So gentle were his caresses and strokes, she barely felt his fingers running skillfully along her body. She idly wondered how many he had taken to his bed - and quickly banished the thought. When he was this way, she wanted to believe that it was different with her; that he loved her. That she wasn't just a slave to him, but a person. A woman.
It didn't hurt when he entered her. A blessing in that, at least. She sucked in her breath as he moved against her, and her hips rose to greet his. Ozorne's lips came to her neck, nibbling, sucking. His teeth urged the blood to rush to his mouth, and Farrah moaned. Then his mouth was eclipsing hers, and she felt a pressure building in her. Ozorne stiffened above her in climax, his hands tight on her shoulders. She cried out as the pressure exploded out of her.
He rolled off of her, to lay on the other side of the bed. His breathing slowed quickly, and he seemed no worse for wear. Farrah lay there, chest heaving as she fought to take air into her lungs. Eventually, breathing came easier.
Farrah turned her head to her emperor. He slept. She sighed, as unbidden tears rose to her eyes.
"Goddess, Graveyard Hag, why?" She paused, and looked back at Ozorne. Then she stood, and walked to the window, holding only a sheet around her naked body. Farrah leaned her hot head against the cool glass, and sighed.
"Why him?"