Kindred Spirit Lodge Presents
Interception
Dungeon
by Nessa
February/March/June 2003
Part 1 of 2
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The fire was at a perfect heat for cooking. Coals glowed red under the flame. Tris turned the handle of a spit that Nessa forged for the outings they used to go on together. The rabbit was nearly done. The young woman smiled as she thought of that first time she trapped a rabbit just over a year ago. It was the very day that she met Nessa, the Celtic lord who tamed, named and claimed her, only to set her free among the Kindred.
She was escaping from her whole life when she met Nessa. Starving and filthy, she faced Death in a forest and welcomed Her. Up to then she knew only cruelty from others. She was passed on from one pair of lecherous hands to another. Rape and whipping were daily events, endured as precursors to any food or water. Manacles and chains were her wardrobe.
Then, at about her 19th winter, her drunken owner passed out on top of her after a clumsy attempt at satisfying his lust. She squirmed beneath him, attempting to avoid the slobber dripping toward her face. The movement somehow pushed keys loose from a pocket. Tris was able to free herself and slip into the dark forest on a run for her life.
The events after that ran through Tris’ memory. She learned so much and gained so much skill this past year. Killian was her dearest friend. She was the one who first taught her of love because Killian was the one who truly loved her. Her dear friend taught her to sew and soon she was the seamstress for all the Kindred, making her own way independently among them. Nessa was mostly kind and wanted what was best for her. It was the warrior who taught her the skills of living in the forest. As she roasted this rabbit in the dark forest, she thought of Nessa. She missed the incredible touch that only the warrior had. How she would love to have that touch now.
Not entirely lost in these thoughts, the senses of the young woman bristled. There was something walking the parameters of her camp. It was four footed and large. Tris slowly set the spit and rabbit down on a flat stone and rose to her feet. She was never much good with a sword and little better with the dagger that hung on her belt. She moved to draw it when the largest cat she ever saw emerged boldly into her camp.
Eyes and teeth glistened. This was the killer cat that the Lodge crier warned about. But that was days ago. Everyone thought it must be on the other side of the mountain by now. It’s taste for human flesh flashed obsessively in those crazed eyes. Tris tried to keep thinking so that fear would not paralyze her. The animal crouched smoothly in readiness for the spring and the pounce on this easy prey.
Tris reached in her pocket for a handful of sulfur, grateful that she kept it handy for other reasons. She tossed the powder down on the fire. A huge spurt of blinding flame burst up. The cat swayed quickly away allowing just enough time for the lass to jump to a low hanging branch overhead and swing up. She scurried higher up while the huge predator blinked to recover it’s sight and senses. Sulfur burned his nose and hung heavily in the air.
Tris hugged the trunk in the darkness and looked down, barely breathing. The animal was confused and furious. The flash of light and fire blinded him. He did not see his victim disappear. He opened his cavernous mouth and heaved a deafening roar. Tris felt the tree shiver. Silently, she watched the big cat pace around the campfire, sniffing and searching. The roasted rabbit was all the food left in sight or scent. The cat stood over it panting in disappointment. He opened his jaws to clamp onto the savory hare when a zipping sound met his ears and a cross bow bolt broke into the skull between his eyes.
Tris was amazed to see the huge creature drop to it’s belly and keel over in shuddering death. But more amazing was the sight of a stranger dressed in black silk and leather walking into the camp from the forest, crossbow in hand. Tris could tell it was a woman by the grace of movement, the curve of the shoulders and the small size of the black-booted foot placed on the head of the cat. The stranger reached down and brought up the spitted rabbit. Tearing a hunk of meat away with white teeth, she looked down at the dead beast and said while chewing, “I’ll take the rabbit.” Then, looking straight up into the dark tree she said louder, “And the wench.”
*******
Tris knew their eyes were not really meeting. The stranger may have seen her leap to the tree but no one could see through the dark branches while standing next to the fire. Why then, did she feel so seen? It seemed as if the deep gaze of the stranger reached into her soul. She felt it piercing through her. Without a first thought, her hands and feet began a slow decent from the leafy heights. Tris felt a panic but her body moved surely from branch to branch. She told herself to stop… she screamed at herself to stop, but it was nothing more than an echo in her mind. Her body kept moving as if it was disconnected from her will.
At last, Tris stood on solid ground looking up into intense eyes, one shade lighter than coal. Her throat was too dry to swallow. Words formed in her mind but would not make the distance into speech. Her heart pounded with fear. She could not, for all her screaming senses, move her feet. She was trapped under the hypnotic gaze of this dark stranger. Suddenly the spell was broken as she watched half the roasted rabbit coming at her. She moved to snatch it out of the air before it sped passed.
“Eat wench. You are already too thin.”
The voice and accent struck Tris like a slap. Dalton! The crazy Dane who stayed on the peripheral of the Lodge, lurking about and watching for the Lady Aria, now stood towering over Tris, appearing no more sane than she ever did. Tris would not forget the pre-dawn morning last Spring when she was in the garden cutting flowers and secretly witnessed the dark Dane riding into the courtyard holding Lady Aria, unconscious and naked in the saddle before her. She would always remember the welts and bruises covering the beautiful Lady. More than that, she would remember the gentle way in which Dalton lifted Aria from the stallion to the courtyard bench and brushed a kiss across her lips in silent farewell.
Tris felt her fear kick in. She tried to leap back to escape Dalton’s grasp but it was too late before she could move an inch. She was jerked hard by one arm and held still to feel Dalton’s hot breath against her face.
“Do you think I am less sly than a hungry cat little seamstress?” Dalton purred. “I told you to eat. If I have to feed you, you may find yourself nursing a broken jaw. Do you get it?”
Tris could feel the danger from the Dane. It rippled out in waves. She could see it shining from those slate eyes. She lifted the rabbit meat to her mouth and began to eat. All her survival skills came into play. She forced herself to calmness. She smiled seductively and said, “Yes, I get it Mistress. I would not be able to serve your desire with a broken jaw.” The moment hung frozen between them.
Dalton eased her grip and smiled. “When you are finished with your meal, we will sleep. We will be moving on in the morning. You are my little bitch now. Try to leave and I will kill you.” The words were harsh but the voice was calm. Dalton let go of Tris and turned to unsaddle her stallion.
Tris was amazed at what she heard. She dropped the remains of the rabbit along with her still unbroken jaw. When she finally allowed herself to breath again, she moved about the camp as if all that had just taken place was quite normal. She would have to play along until she saw a chance to break away. Between now and then, she would have to sleep with the deranged Dane.
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Disclaimer: Dalton loses reason and has no boundaries. If you have issues about battery and violent sex, please don’t read this. Domestic violence and battery are not acceptable and I do not condone such behavior in the real world. This story does not take place in the real world however, and my own dark thoughts must be expressed. It is purely fiction. (This disclaimer is for you, young friend and for those who have suffered with you), Nessa
Dalton never did know how to give love. She knew only wanting to receive it from another. No part of her ever felt the warmth of it, only the need of it. Try as she did, no amount of kindness or cruelty gained her admission into the realm of the loved. She decided that she at least got sexual satisfaction and response out of cruelty. That is what she opted for. Otherwise, she would live a blank existence with nothing but herself to hate. Sanity lay in a chasm of quiet boredom. She preferred to live on the edge.
The beautiful young seamstress would be perfectly delightful. Dalton’s mind played images of the girl’s naked body tied and stretched out for her pleasure. The thoughts sent fire to her center. She intended to own the girl. She would see to it that Tris obeyed her. If not… she would deal with her, forcefully. Three nights now the little wench played her, worked her. She knew the girl was waiting for a chance to bolt like a deer in a forest fire. Dalton would be mindful of that chance. The sadistic part of her hoped for it, and soon. She thought she would invent something herself. Not that she needed a reason other than her desire to see the girl hurting and afraid.
Tris was tired of traveling this forest. She was tired of the days of silence with the brooding Dalton, tired of the nights of fucking without pleasure, tired of being careful of every movement and tired of the Dark Dane. Tris wanted to go home now. Dalton was very handsome, yes. She did look good in her black silk shirt and leather pants. She was even desirable. But Tris needed conversation, stimulation and variation. She was actually bored, even with her nearly constant fear of making a mistake. She obviously hadn’t made one yet and she was beginning to wonder if Dalton was really all that dangerous. Under-estimating the mercenary, of course, turned out to be her first mistake.
Dinner was over and camp clean-up was finished. For the fourth evening in a row, Tris sat across from the maddeningly silent Dalton, waiting for the nod that would give her permission to spread the big bedroll out. The Dane seemed lost in deep thought, her slate eyes riveted to the flames of the campfire. Tris decided that she would try something and if she could pull it off, she may be able to escape. Suddenly she stood and stretched then cast her eyes haphazardly on the poorly stocked woodpile. “We are nearly out of wood. We won’t have any for the morning fire.” She said. “I’ll go gather some now before it gets too dark to see.” She turned toward the forest calmly and matter-of-factly enough to have made it seem ordinary for her to step outside the camp without the Dane. She heard what sounded like a word of assent in the language of the Vikings and a short grunt. Her steps carried her beyond the first few trees and still no sound behind her. She bent to pick up pieces of wood and worked her way further, step by step gathering as she went, until she was sure she was out of sight and earshot of the campsite.
Once more, Tris bent down. But this time she allowed the kindling to roll out of her arms. Standing quietly now she listened. She could hear nothing but the rustle of the wind in the tree tops above her. She broke into a run. It was still light enough to see the small trail that led to the stream. She would follow the stream to the clearing where she could pick up the road to the Lodge.
She heard the sound of the stream splashing as the light of the day faded. Tris stopped and leaned against the trunk of a large tree. She stood there for a few moments and allowed her breathing to become easier. She felt elated at her success thus far. Tris had every intention of moving on but her feet would not move. Her heart flew into a panic when her back pressed against the tree trunk as if some giant pair of hands held her. She figured Dalton would come after her but she hoped that she could stay hidden in the roadside brush. She forgot how the dark Dane could hold her captive just by thinking. After all, she was hidden in the dark tree tops when Dalton first captured her. Her need to escape clouded her memory.
The struggle was furious and it all took place within the girl. Her body was motionless there against the tree. Her ears heard the low laugh and the booted footsteps coming toward her. Tris lifted her eyes and met the flaming slate gaze of Dalton. She was suddenly filled with regret. She felt waves of sickness come over her, instinctually knowing the intensity of what was coming. She had no alternative but to wait for the blow and it came smashing into her face, knocking her from the mental hold and onto the ground. She rose to her hands and knees in a daze. Her vision cleared in time to see Dalton’s black boots in front of her. She felt a hand gripping her hair in a wad close to her head. She screamed in pain as she was suddenly pulled up to her feet.
Dalton looked fiercely into the sweet face of the little seamstress. “So you thought you would run away little slut… Hmm? I suppose I knew it would happen. I am just going to have to teach you to mind me.” she growled. Too many tried to get away from her. Nothing made her more furious. She let it be the reason for many a sweet thing to become painfully aware of her power. Again she slapped Tris hard but held her on her feet. She watched the immediate swelling at the edge of that pretty little mouth. “Do you think you can learn little bitch?” said as she shook Tris harshly by the hair.
“Yes I can learn!” Tris screamed and went into a wailing cry. “Please my lord, don’t do this. I don’t know what you want from me… please don’t” she pleaded. Her words were barely audible through the sobs but Dalton understood and backhanded the girl once more.
“What I want from you is to own you and I do!” Dalton screamed and shoved the crying girl against the tree. She let go of that long dark hair and stood back watching Tris struggle to stay on her feet. “Stand there slut. Don’t move. Just fucking stand there.” The dark Dane drew her dagger. Tris saw and rocked from side to side in agonizing fear, crying some incomprehensible pleas. Dalton was thrilled. She loved how it made her feel to frighten a young girl. She slipped the blade into the front of the girl’s shirt and pulled down cutting the fabric apart. Little by little Tris’ clothes were shredded off her body. Dalton only had to yell twice when the girl’s knees buckled in fear.
Naked now, her clothes in strips of cloth at her feet, Tris tried again to talk to Dalton. The swelling of her upper lip made it hard to form the words. “D…Dalton, you don’t have to hurt me. I… I mean please don’t.” But that was all she was able to say before the leather strap came slicing through the air to strike against her breasts. She let out a scream and hunched forward to guard her breasts from the belt. But every way she turned the belt hit on bare flesh.
Dalton struck down hard again and again. She would show this little slut all about belonging to her. She wanted to hear the screams. They were like vehicles to ecstasy. But the screaming stopped. The welts on the naked girl were swollen and showed a bright red even in the moonlight. Tris was moaning in a stupor of pain on the ground. Her naked body was delicious to look at like this. Dalton felt a driving lust to fuck her beautiful round ass. She dropped the belt and reached down wrapping a strong arm around the girl’s waist and brought her up, arms and legs dangling own. The dark Dane rammed fingers up into the little pink anus and got the scream she wanted.
Tris pleaded for an end but Dalton continued. The Dane fucked hard. Tris hated that she was getting wet. The whipping was hard but it was what always made her hot. She stopped pleading and started to moan, “Oh, fuck me, yes, fuck me.” She began to move her naked ass in rhythm with Dalton’s fingers. When she felt Dalton press against her clit she screamed in sheer ecstasy. It was probably the hardest orgasm Tris ever had.
Dalton held the shuddering girl and felt as close to bliss as she could get, knowing the girl was cumming. Then because she was nearly at a peak and could not wait much longer, she dropped Tris to the ground. “Get up on your knees!” Tris scrambled to obey. Dalton opened her leather trousers and pulled them down. “Take me in your mouth slut!”
Tris worked her mouth over the Dane’s folds. She sucked and licked earnestly. Pleasing Dalton was all that mattered to her now. She heard the Dane howl in ecstatic pleasure. In the silence that followed, Tris allowed herself to drop to the ground. She was a sore and bleeding mess but she was unable to move to take care of herself. She was only half conscious of being wrapped in a warm blanket and being held in strong arms.
*********
Killian sat on the edge of the bed. Her sleep would have been deep and restful after the glorious lovemaking between her and Caitlin the night before. But it was restless and filled with troubling scenes of Tris held captive and suffering. Killian loved Tris as much as any sister. She thought about the dreams and concluded that they were not so clear that she could determine the exact nature of the trouble. But they were clear enough to thrust her into action. The young psychic always worked from her feelings. She looked over at her sleeping lover and smiled at the miracle that brought them together. She remembered that her whole being was filled with feeling Caitlin as a living woman, struggling to stay alive and wondering why. She felt it from across the sea in the strange land of Persia. She saw her lover in her mind as clearly then as she saw her now in the flesh. That is why she trusted her feeling now… her dream was a vision.
Killian dressed in her deerskin halter and short wrap-around skirt. She donned the high-top moccasins of the Amazons. Armed with dagger and staff, the young Amazon stood at the bedside and whispered into Caitlin’s mind, “I must go to the forest my love. Please trust me and do not follow. I am seeking my friend, Tris. She is in trouble and I can best help her in my way. You will no doubt punish me for this. I will accept it willingly as you know. I love you.” The psychic smiled with this last thought and moved silently out to the dim corridor, heading straight for Aria’s room.
It was barely a tap but the blonde assassin had acquired keen senses through years of training from former instructors and sometimes intense experience. Her responses had often saved her life. Aria was on her feet in a split second watching the shadow move under her door. She listened with that extra sense of knowing. It was Killian alone. ‘Odd’ she thought. Killian had not been seen without her warrior since she came to the Lodge weeks ago. Aria pulled the door open so fast, Killian’s knuckles landed in the middle of the assassin’s plump cleavage instead of on the door.
Killian jerked her fist back in rapid withdrawal. “My intention was to go for solid wood, Aria. But this is a nice way to get your attention. I don’t mind… really.” she smirked as she walked passed her friend and into the warm, lilac scented room.
“Oh, you have my attention, darling.” Aria said dryly. “Why are you dressed like a daughter of Artemis ready for the hunt?”
“Because I am a daughter of Artemis and the hunt is urgent.”
“Again? Who are we saving this time?”
“Tris.”
Killian gazed steadfastly into her best friend’s eyes and was rewarded with the concern and sharp awareness she saw there. “She is being held against her will somewhere in the forest” she said.
Aria asked questions while she pulled off her dressing gown and dressed in her own hunting clothes. “Who’s holding her? Do you know?”
“I am not too sure” Killian hedged.
Aria stopped in the middle of pulling up one soft leather boot top and glared at her young friend. “You are not too sure?” she queried. “Does that mean you are a little sure? Come Clear with me Killy.”
“I think it’s Dalton” Killian ventured. She understood that Aria had dealings with Dalton that were extreme and dangerous in the past. She also knew, along with every other Lodger, that the Dark Dane had been stalking Aria for months but the assassin would not allow interference from anyone for some reason unknown to Killian. Every Warrior in the Lodge would offer their sword to Aria’s protection.
Aria finished dressing in silence and then turned to face her friend. She was matter-of-fact and serious. “Well let’s get moving then. If Tris is in Dalton’s clutches, there can’t be much time to waste.”
She moved with such grace and lightness, no one could have guessed how hard her heart pounded at the prospect of facing off with Dalton. Her feelings were not mixed about wanting to rescue young Tris. She was not even having a second thought about killing the Dane if need be. She just didn’t want to look into those black eyes. Aria was sure that she would feel too much if that happened and feeling for Dalton would be far too dangerous.
*********
From their vantage point on the high branch, Killian and Aria could see much more than either of them really would have desired. They watched mesmerized, while Dalton pulled a red hot firebrand from the fire and laid the glowing end of it on the tender inner thigh of Tris, the friend they came to save. They saw Tris throw back her head and scream forth all the unbridled intensity of her fear and pain. The whole forest wrapped itself around that scream in chilled silence. Killian started instinctually. Her Amazon training told her to remain motionless while her love for her friend was urging her to act. Feelings were winning out when Aria grabbed Killian’s arm from her own precarious position and stuck her mouth to Killian’s ear and whispered. “Wait, Killy. Do you see that Tris is not bound and yet makes no move to stop the torture?”
Killian stopped short of an Amazon leap from the precarious height. She drew her brows together in wonder. Something unseen was holding Tris in a vicious grip. Killian knew about the unseen psychic realms. She was forced into developing her own capabilities as a psychic when Nessa required help retrieving the Sacred Stone of the Faery. Then the development just snowballed. She could not deny her gift when Caitlin came through the underground passages of the psyche to meet up with her from the land of Persia. Killian thought the moaning from Tris would help cover the communication she needed with the assassin. She looked at Aria and risked a whisper. “Can you Kill her from here… with your Dagger?”
“Of course” Aria mouthed.
Killian explained as quietly and as quickly as she could that she would have to enter a psychic battle with Dalton to release the Dane’s hold on Tris. If Dalton died before Tris was released, Tris would be doomed to living out her life in the invisible fetters that held her now. She instructed Aria to wait until she saw Tris moving on her own before throwing the Dagger into Dalton. Aria understood the strategy and trusted that her friend was capable of fighting this battle for at least as long as it took to break the psychic hold on the little seamstress.
Aria watched Killian lean against the tree trunk and close her eyes. The change on Killy’s face caused the blonde to look to the ground to watch for her cue. The battle began. The assassin witnessed Dalton twisting her body around in confusion and then stand very still. The Dane’s face was rugged and handsome but showed no emotion. It seemed like a long time before Tris dropped to the ground and began to wrestle her painful way to some sort of distance between her and her tormentor. It was a small distance but it was clear to Aria that the girl was now released and moving on her own. Aria lifted her dagger from it’s sheath as she drew a bead on the Dane’s heart. Some feeling moved inside her. She didn’t want to kill the Dane just yet. She was too angry to just kill the bitch and be done with it. For herself, she needed something more. With lightness and speed Aria moved down the tree to the ground and crept silently behind the occupied Dane. She raised her hand and brought it down full force, smashing the butt of her dagger hilt into the back of Dalton’s head. The taller woman dropped to the ground in a swoon.
Before Aria reached Tris a few paces away, Killian was at her side, jerking her back by one arm. “What the fuck are you doing! Why did you do that?” she spat. “You were supposed to kill her.”
Pulling out of the young Amazon’s grip, Aria leveled her gaze on deep brown eyes. “Listen to me now Kil” she said. “We are going to do what we came to do. Tris is hurt and has to be taken out of here fast. I don’t want you to argue with me about why I didn’t kill Dalton. You just have to trust me.”
“Trust you to do what?”
“To take care of my own business with this crazy bitch and to know what I am doing.”
“Does that mean you are not going to tell me exactly what you have in mind?”
Both women were pulled away from the discussion by the sound of moaning. Killian dropped to the ground beside the wounded Tris. She had more wrong with her than a burn on her thigh. Apparently, Dalton had been abusing Tris for all the time she was in her clutches. Bruises and welts, old and new, covered the sweet young body. Killian worried that there might be internal injury from the daily beatings. There was a bump the size of a hens egg just over the girl’s right eye. Concussion was more than possible. She did hate Dalton fiercely but could not focus on that just now. She looked up at Aria. “Help me get her to Flame. Stay and do what you have to do but know this… if you don’t kill Dalton yourself this time, all agreements are off. I will lift the ‘don’t kill Dalton’ ban and tell every warrior at the Lodge what has happened. Dalton will die one way or another.”
Aria helped lift the half-conscious Tris onto the black Friesian. She waved off the look of concern she saw in Killian’s face. She felt that she had to deal with Dalton once and for all, and she had to do it alone. When the last possible sight of the trio was hidden by the forest, Aria turned to gaze at Dalton. She went to her horse and uncoiled the braided rope from the saddle. She had her own fury, her own needs and her own ideas on how to satisfy those things. The Dark Dane would soon understand that she went too far. She would find out now, if she didn’t already know, that she had more than met her match.
********
After the surprise attack in her mind by that little Amazon of the Lodge and then a blow to the back of her head that felt like it could have split her scull, Dalton wasn’t altogether sure she wanted to wake up. But she woke, in spite of any hopes of blissful unconsciousness. The light that met her eyes brought searing pain with it. She slammed her lids down quickly and kept them still until she felt the breeze brush up against her naked skin. She had to open her eyes now. She needed to believe what she felt by seeing it. Dalton lay naked and spread-eagled, face up and tied to stakes driven firmly into the ground. Finding herself in this position was amazing enough. But more amazing was the sight of Aria, the beautiful assassin and sole object of Dalton’s mad obsession for love, standing over her, smiling wickedly and slapping a thick strap against a palm. The vision was enough to send her through the rest of her life without ever having to dream again.
Aria’s own dreams often gave her the upper hand but never had they felt so satisfying as this reality. Perhaps it was the anger she felt or the need for vengeance that compounded her joy. The look of shock on Dalton’s face was priceless. Aria licked her lips provocatively and spoke in a low sultry voice. “Got a headache Dal sweetie? Want Mama to make it all better?” Before the Dane could think through the stun, the stiff strap slammed down across her naked breasts. The assassin pulled back and watched the welt raise while the Dane heaved and yelled. Aria smirked, “Oh come now, Dal. You can take it better than that. I mean a big ole brute like you ought to be a bit tougher, don’t you think?” Aria brought the strap down again.
Dalton could barely see the leather strap, it was moving so fast. Her breasts and upper thighs were covered with screaming red welts and still Aria whipped her. The braided rope that held her wrists and ankles rubbed viciously into her skin. She thought if she could only get a moment to think without pain, she could wrap her mind around Aria and capture her. But Aria would never be as easy as Tris. The Dane hated her vulnerability more than anything else. Even the pain of the strap was far less than the pain of her pride. How could she have allowed anyone such a position with her? But Aria was not just anyone. Dalton wanted the assassin to belong to her for months now. Each time she had the beauty it felt like more than she ever had before but still was not quite enough. Aria was like a drug to Dalton… seductive, pleasurable and addictive.
Aria dropped the strap and pulled in a breath. She looked down at this moaning woman on the ground. She felt her sex kick at the sight of the whipped woman, made helpless by her, made to suffer pain by her. Suddenly Aria dropped to her knees beside the writhing Dane. “Well, aren’t you going to say anything Dalton?” she asked. “Don’t you want to know what is next and why I am hurting you? Hmmm?” The blonde slapped Dalton hard. The sound of it and the sting on her hand felt like a small balm of vengeance. “Who say’s revenge isn’t sweet?”
Dalton saw bright spots in her vision from the jarring slap. She blinked them away and gazed up at the blonde. “I always thought it was sweet, Lady Aria. I know why you hurt me and I don’t really care what happens next.”
The smile dropped from Aria’s beautiful face. She stood up, still staring into those gorgeous dark eyes. “Really? Perhaps I can help you care” she said dryly. She threw a kick into Dalton’s thigh that would have broken the femur of a weaker woman. She pulled her dagger casually from it’s sheath and carefully laid the blade on the burning embers of the fire. “There now, when that is just hot enough, you will begin to care.” She moved back to the Dane and looked lovingly at the reds stripes on the strong, lean body. Aria’s gaze traveled to the patch of black hair so sweetly settled between those muscular thighs. Kneeling down, The Lady rubbed a hand over sore breasts. She squeezed hard until she heard Dalton cry out. Then, she caressed the hairs on the bound woman’s mound… rolling her fingers, she twisted the curls and yanked. Again she heard Dalton yell in pain. Long fingers worked slowly down to the Dane’s folds. The wetness there surprised and delighted the assassin. “So, you feel more than pain then” she said softly.
“For you alone, do I feel more than pain milady.”
Aria frowned at the unexpected reply. She rammed her fingers into Dalton and held them still inside the hot, throbbing flesh. She wanted to hate this twisted woman. She truly did try. She pulled back her hand enough to fit all of the fingers into Dalton’s wet opening… then her thumb. Her whole hand was sopping with Dalton’s cum. She shoved her fist up into the hot cunt, stretching it. Dalton stiffened and wailed in pain and ecstasy.
“Aaahhh… riaaaah!”
Aria fisted Dalton for just long enough to bring the Dane to the edge of climax and then drew her hand out. She wiped her wet hand on Dalton’s black hair. Memory of how this woman nearly tore her hair from her scalp jolted Aria. She gripped the tresses in her fist and jerked hard. The scream from Dalton was just perfect. The assassin leaned down until her face was an inch from the Dane’s and said. “My dagger glows red. Are you ready to care?” She looked into slate and bloodshot but saw so much more than color there. Drawn by an intensity of feeling she did not recognize and could not name, Aria fused Dalton’s mouth with hers in a deep, long kiss. Was she really in control? She began to wonder.
____****____
Disclaimer: Dalton loses reason and has no boundaries. If you have issues about battery and violent sex, please don’t read this. Domestic violence and battery are not acceptable and I do not condone such behavior in the real world. This story does not take place in the real world however, and my own dark thoughts must be expressed. It is purely fiction. (This disclaimer is for you, young friend and for those who have suffered with you), Nessa -- As an addendum to this, Aria is turning on the Dane in this part and has little remorse for her actions. It is revenge and not too pretty.
The blonde jerked away from the kiss. She would not betray her anger by melting into the lust she had for this possessed woman. Aria tapped her memory of her encounters with the Dane. She remembered the abductions, the whippings, the incredible indignity of being left naked and bleeding from Dalton’s whip only to survive and be raped another day. She remembered Tris and felt a sting of betrayal and guilt. Especially because she contracted with the half dragon to keep the Dane alive in secret when Ikarias would rather have sliced the bitch’s throat the instant she saw that Dalton’s fall on her own dagger did not do the job. Now Tris was the victim. Aria’s rage was renewed with these thoughts.
Dalton lay bound securely by a woman whose skills she underestimated at least once before. Her mind swirled with images of a childhood filled with heinous abuse and neglect. Being tied down and tortured was not new but it was remote until now. As soon as she was old enough to become the abuser, she went into it with a vengeance. But that was so long ago and now the tables turned again. Dalton’s body had it’s own memory of the pain. She burned all over from Aria’s strap. She thought her scalp must be torn loose. Her insides felt bruised from the fisting. But she was incredibly confused by her feelings of desire. She nearly met with a booming climax at Aria’s hand. Why? The answer stampeded in on her already broken mind. It was because it was Aria. The Dane’s desire for the beautiful assassin never waned. She always twisted love and abuse together into one mass, impossible to define. Dalton watched Aria’s strong sweet body move to the fire. She saw her reach for the white hot dagger. A fear she never wanted to show crept up into her now.
Aria stooped at the fire and wrapped her hand around the dagger hilt. She glanced at Dalton’s face. She thought she saw a trace of fear in those slate eyes. She smiled and decided on a little interrogation. “So, why Tris, Dalton? Surely you could have picked on someone more challenging.”
“I was not looking for a challenge, Aria.”
“Oh? Then what? A rescue party perhaps?”
Dalton caught the insinuation. “You flatter yourself milady.”
“You misread me. Since you are the one who would prompt such a rescue, it is hardly flattering.” Aria spoke with distain. “It is Tris I cared about… not you.”
“Then why didn’t you kill me when you had the chance, assassin?” Dalton countered.
Aria came back to kneel beside the Dane. She brought the calescent blade close to Dalton’s face. “Because I am curious. I want the right answers now, Dal. Again, what did you want from Tris?”
“I wanted to own her. I wanted to claim her as mine… to fuck and to hurt and to kill if I wanted.” Dalton felt the heat on her face. “Will that answer do?”
Aria knew it was true. The Dark Dane was without conscience and rationalized her actions with explanations from her irrational mind. The assassin was too angry to have pity. She had her own capabilities for cruelty and a need to satisfy her vengeance. She brought the blade down to just above Dalton’s right breast and said coolly, “Hold tight sweetie. Mama’s going to own you now… gonna claim you, gonna fuck and hurt and kill you if I want to.” The dagger was razor sharp so the cut was even. The red heat cauterized while the blade sliced. Dalton screamed out with abandon while Aria carved a perfect “A” into the quivering breast flesh.
Screams and sobbing filled the forest air. The trees seemed shocked by the sound. Birds and squirrels were silent. But Aria was unmoved. It was done. She stood, gazing down at the now unconscious Dane. A dark mass of hair fanned out around Dalton’s head while little wisps stuck to the sweating brow. The blonde one allowed her gaze to linger and travel over the beautiful body. The angry “A” was swelling along with something inside the assassin that she could hardly stand to feel. That something was that Dalton the insane Dane held a place in her heart. It wasn’t love but it was something close to it. She wanted to remember this day, this hatred and this satisfaction. Aria pulled her shirt open and put the dagger blade to her own skin. Quickly and with teeth gritting stamina, she managed to carve a small mark of remembrance above her left breast. She lay over the Dane and pressed her wound on that of Dalton’s, mixing the blood. She did it without reason. In any case, she would not kill Dalton. She sliced through the braided rope at Dalton’s wrists with the cooling dagger. Aria mounted her horse and trotted into the forest toward home, leaving the unconscious Dane to suffer and contemplate. Once again, Aria did not count on Dalton’s insanity or the rage that came with it.
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Conclusion of - 'Interception'