Will he still love me?
Woltar jumped when the door slammed open. Glou stumbled in and tossed his cloak in the general direction of the peg it usually hung upon. He missed. By a lot. "Sorry," Glou laughed. "I was falling!" He shut the front door just as hard as he had swung it open. He made a beeline for the basement door, bumping into both the corner of the couch and a side-table holding a candle.
Woltar quickly reached out and caught it. "Idiot," he muttered.
Glou grabbed the handle of the basement door, but paused. Something was bothering him. "Hey Woltar?!" he screamed.
"No need to yell. What is it, Glou?"
"Why do you want me to feed our prisoner eggs?!" He was just as loud.
Woltar just looked confused. "What are you talking about, Glou?"
The Glyphian laughed. "I'm not crazy!" He jeered. "I heard you say it earlier. You told me to be sure I fed her eggs." Bemused disbelief played on Woltar's features. His younger friend was always so entertaining when he was intoxicated. The fact that he was generally embarrassed afterward was only an added bonus. Glou shifted uncomfortably as his friend laughed at him; then realization dawned on the old man.
"You mean in the cellar? I said nothing of eggs. I advised you to cut her legs." He added more clearly. Glou mulled over Woltar's corrected advice for a long time. He looked like he had something to say.
"Oh," was all, and then he was gone. The stairs proved to be quite the journey for Nox, but he managed, thank Apris, to make it down the stairs alive.
Why it should be a surprise that she was awake, he didn't know. But when he saw her glowing red eyes in the dim candlelight of the basement his throat caught in his chest. When she only sat and glared, Glou's drunken panic died down. Although inebriated, he was right enough in mind to know that this moment of relative calm was rare. He took advantage of the opportunity to admire her beauty.
Her long blonde hair cascaded down her back and over her shoulders. The ribbon it had previously been tied with was held tightly in her fists. Glou noted that it should be confiscated immediately. It was just long enough to choke him, if she angled herself correctly. Her eyes, burning red with a passionate intensity, drew him closer to her. Her soft, fair skin was covered mostly by a bland, deep red dress. It buttoned at her neck and went to her ankles. Underneath that were some dark stockings, and no shoes. Either she hadn't put any on, or as Glou considered, she was hiding them somewhere for later use as a weapon. She was thoroughly warrior, yet so womanly and warm. He wanted to embrace her.
She realized he was drunk when he stumbled straight into the shelf he left the key on. He managed to grab it, but only dropped it. He laughed aloud at himself. She gritted her teeth harder together. She was going to kill him, and she wasn't going to have a hard time of it. At least, that was what she had been thinking until he grabbed an old, broken sword that was propped against the wall.
The Glyphian stumbled into the cage and set the key just outside the bars, within reach. Arisa would have to fight through Glou to grab it, and even if she did, she'd likely not have enough time to open the door. She gripped the ribbon in her hand even tighter. She knew that Glou would understand her challenge, and she counted on him grabbing for her weapon first.
She lunged at him, thrusting the ribbon to his neck when she was close enough, but he used his arms to grab her by the waist. She struggled, kicking her legs, but he was stronger. He pushed his body on top of hers, essentially sitting on her lap, and grabbed the ribbon with his left hand. She yanked it to the right, pulling his arm across his body. He brought it back roughly, to hit her, but she leaned back and ducked her head out of the way. And then she brought it back up, as hard as she could, into his chin.
His reactions were a little slower than usual, and his coordination wasn't in perfect shape, but the alcohol in his system did ease most of the pain. With blood dripping from his lip down his chin he grabbed his dazed prisoner by the hair. Arisa remembered too late the advice of her subordinate, "Nobody wins with a headbutt." Glou twisted her head roughly. She gasped from the pain of it. He stood up, off of her, and spun her onto her stomach. She kicked at him, aiming vaguely at his penis, but it didn't slow him. He sat back on her legs and pulled her by her hair towards him, so she was bending over backwards.
But she was more flexible than most women. She clawed at his wrist with her nails, in the sensitive spot just above the vein. His left hand struggled with her while his right pulled down the long stockings she was wearing. Suddenly, it dawned on her what he was doing. "No!"
"Sorry, baby," Glou cooed. He meant it, a little. He didn't want to ruin her beautiful body, but he didn't want her fighting.
She could hear the smile in his voice. Her panic subsided, but her anger grew. She was tired. She was weak. She hadn't had anything to drink or eat in nearly a full day, but if her legs... "Palm of Destruction!" she screamed. A green light eminated from her hand and towards her captor. It caught his shirt, and he drew back, ripping it off before the flames could hurt him. She, too, was pulling at the sleeve of the old smock she was wearing, extinguishing the flames before they could burn her further.
Now she was really pissing him off. Glou put his boot on her back. She squirmed while he carefully turned so he was sitting on her, facing her feet. He grabbed her left leg. "No!" she screeched again. He was finished toying with her. He pushed the sharper end of the broken blade to the bottom of her ankle. Her skin was so soft, it cut open without resistance. He pulled the sword up as easily as a wet tissue until he reached her hips. She resisted less fiercely when he did the same with her right leg.
He laughed when he realized sweat was pooling on his forehead and neck. She pulled her legs up into her body, her dress sticking to both of them uncomfortably. "You're fiesty," he admonished. He pulled her legs out and pushed himself on top of her. "I like that," Glou continued.
"Please," she begged. She couldn't resist. She was tired from her panicked use of a draining skill, and her legs were burning. "I have a husband." Nevelle's face swam before her eyes. "And many children. Imagine what they'll do without their mother." So she wasn't being completely truthful.
"That's war," Glou cooed, and shoved her dress up. He fiddled with his zipper.
"You disgusting barbarian," Arisa spat, clearly finished pushing for pity. "This is the only way you can get a woman? You have to force her? You must be tiny!"
He didn't feel tiny when he crammed himself inside of her. She guessed he was larger than her husband, but it could be that Nevelle had always just been gentle. He grunted. She yelped. She lay back, biting her lip to stop herself from making any noise or excess movements. She had heard many of the male soldiers say they hated it that way, and it'd be wise of any captured women not to make themselves useful by resisting. Some men liked that. Glou didn't seem to mind her inactivity.
In fact, it didn't slow him down at all. He gripped onto her thighs, pushing her away from him and ramming himself back into her to makeup for the momentum she refused to provide. She bit onto her lip and, stupidly, began to cry. Glou misinterprated this as her desire to be closer to him.
He pulled her upright, onto his lap so he could feel her nipples rub against his chest while he bounced her on his lap. She lay limply over his shoulder, but her body betrayed her. Her nipples were hard. She was sweating. She was moist.
Glou bit into her neck when he came. His penis swelled to allow the passage of his seed, and it burned as it transferred. He grunted. Her soft skin clenched in his hungry teeth was not enough to distract from the pain. When it was over, the short spurt of exhausted pleasure as his reward for reproducing overtook him. He lay his head on her breast. In Arisa's opinion the three minutes Glou took to consider risking his life and just sleeping in the basement was an eternity.
But he was not a stupid man. Glou left silently, leaving the broken sword at the foot of the bed in his forgetful state. Arisa grabbed it when he had made the journey to the top of the stairs. She pressed it to her throat, but hesitated. She wanted to long for death. She understood she'd be trapped in this room until the Glyphians mercifully decided to erase her pathetic existence. Still, she couldn't bring herself to desire such a thing.
She'd rather be raped a thousand times.