A Captor's Mercy Ch. 03

Zara mewled softly, her mind climbing back into consciousness. Lids fluttering, she looked about her, patchy colors swimming through her vision. She was in a dimly lit room with only a small oil lamp burning on a stand in one corner. Her body seemed to melt with relief into the relative softness of the cot beneath her. Sitting up, Zara attempted to make better sense of her new situation.

A fluffy quilt was tucked about her, and her shoulder was bandaged neatly where she had scraped it earlier. Sinking back down wearily, she felt a wash of something strangely akin to happiness. Tarsus must have brought her here. Perhaps for once she could sleep without terror.

When she next woke, she felt a warmth beside her. She could feel him just behind her, his nakedness cupping her body. She felt no fear as she turned to look at him. Tarsus lay sleeping, his head tucked against her shoulder blades. Watching him curiously as his chest slowly rose and fell, she wondered who he really was and where he came from. What past had brought him here? Was he Aenetian, or a spy from some far off country, wormed into Aleron's infrastructure, under the Emperor's very nose?

Her eyes strayed from his face, gentle—indeed, beautiful—in slumber, to the chair beside the bed, where his sword and dagger lay. She could kill him here, and escape wearing his clothes with a hood to shadow her face. They were similar enough in size; if she hurried, it could be easily done, now in the quiet of night. Her gaze turned again to his face. Something told her to trust him, and looking at him now, vulnerable and innocent in his sleep, she did not think she could bring herself to kill him.

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When Tarsus woke, he found himself in utter darkness, the light of the lamp snuffed. Stirring, he stiffened at the sensation of rope bound about his wrists and ankles. Heart quickening, he strained his ears into the blackness. He had been a fool. She had tied him and left him to be found, his treachery discovered, or she had secured him with the intention of killing him with his own dagger. After all, what true reason did she have to trust his intentions?

He bit back a cry as a voice spoke suddenly by his ear.

"Good morning, General," Zara whispered silkily. "You have been a bit foolish. It is unlike the great general I have heard of to let his guard down so easily." Tarsus gasped as a cool ribbon of steel snaked lazily over his throat.

"Please," he murmured hoarsely. "Let me speak."

"Speak?" she giggled. The slim dagger blade roamed down his chest and he shivered, feeling sick. "I intend to have you speak very much to me," Zara continued. "I want to know so many things about you!" Tarsus could make out the gleam of her smile as she bent over him, a chilling edge to her voice. "I will know all of your secrets, Milord, before I am done with you."

The dagger wandered over his belly, making his skin prickle. Choking, he froze for a moment with the horror of it: He had heard all the tales of her, become well versed in all the tidbits of information Valgath's spies had gathered about her. A part of him had secretly idolized her—the brilliant rebel warrior, wise, merciful. And here, in this unbearable dungeon, her beauty and spirit had captured him. What was to come was too much for him to bear.

The cold metal found the length of his shaft between his legs and fondled it as he shuddered. He could see her now, his eyes adjusted to the gloom, as she hovered over him, still naked.

"Where are you from, Tarsus?" she asked, the tip of the dagger tickling his balls.

"Valgath," he whispered. The dagger moved away and her hand suddenly grasped his cock roughly.

"Are you sure?" she questioned. "Who were your parents?"

For just a moment, he hesitated. Swiftly, Zara crawled up to straddle him and he gasped as he felt the warm wetness of her pussy rub over him.

"Now, you mustn't give me trouble," she chided. "Or I will have to do mean things to you." He jumped as the coldness of steel pressed against his nipples. She rolled her hips, slicking his cock with her juices. He felt himself begin to harden, fighting the sensation. He watched her in horror, her terrible beauty burned into his mind.

"My mother's name was Marnie—I did not know my father," he mumbled. He cried out in shock as she suddenly bent and fastened her warm mouth over his nipples, nipping and caressing until they were almost painful.

"I warned you," she growled ominously, and he arched his back, straining to sit up, terrified of what she might be about to do.

"My mother and I were simple people, we lived in the mountains, my mother was a healer, we were of peasant blood," Tarsus babbled, hoping to satisfy her. For a moment, Zara was silent. Tarsus could only hear his heart pounding in his ears, feel her moist lips pressed against his cock, his mind overwhelmed as fear vied with arousal. She gave a low chuckle—one that stilled his breath—and leaned in close. The dagger pricked his neck just below the jaw.

"And how might a simple peasant boy have come to be Aleron's greatest general—his golden boy?"

"I—I showed promise—" he stumbled. She laughed again.

"Did you now? I do love hearing you tell stories, General, but what I really need, unfortunately, is truth." He felt a slow trickle of blood creep down his throat as the blade dug in just a little deeper.

"My mother was a peasant named Melie," he gasped desperately. "I swear!"

"Ah..." Zara exhaled onto his neck, hissing in amusement. "Not Marnie, but Melie. That, darling, is the name I was looking for." Bending close, she licked his ear, trailed her lips down his neck. His back arched again, this time in pleasure.

"So, your father..." she prompted.

"No," he panted, shaking his head in refusal. "I did not know my father."

Zara's nails dug into his shoulders.

"That is the truth," he whispered desperately. The dagger left his neck and slithered lower as she backed away, her breasts rubbing across his stomach. He whimpered as glittering steel caressed his now hard shaft. "Don't! Don't, please," he shuddered in panic, eyes watering. He felt the thin kiss of the blade's edge against his length, almost screaming as he waited for the pain.

Instead, he gasped in shocked pleasure as the heat of her mouth replaced the cool dagger.

"Don't?" she asked, swirling her tongue over his throbbing head. Slowly, she swallowed his cock, and he caught the flash of her dark eyes as she looked up at him, watching him as her lips descended to the very base. He almost came then, as her throat closed around his shaft, but she swiftly moved away, twisting his nipples painfully.

"What is your interest in me?" she hissed. "You had no need to get involved...or was I just another woman to plunder, in your lust?"

"Please," he said again, squirming beneath her. "I want to tell you." For the moment, the dagger was away, and all he could feel was her legs clamped around his hips, the press of her heat and slickness against the base of his shaft. "Emperor Aleron has done terrible things," he began. "I have no sympathy for his actions. My allegiance is with Valgath, but Aenia deserves freedom." His eyes searched for her face in the darkness. "Please, I want us both to win—not Aleron. It will not be easy, though."

"So you want to help me out of the goodness of your heart?" Zara questioned, slicing derision in her tone. "And by 'helping', I mean using my body to sate your thirsts."

"It's not like that! Please--"

Zara cut off his protests as she slid up his chest to straddle his face.

"Make me cum," she demanded. "It's my turn, General, to take what I want." The knife point tickled his collarbone. "You will simply have to hope that my hand doesn't slip..."

Despite his fear, desire burned though him, making him tremble, his cock twitching. Her toned, supple body hovered above him, her wrath palpable in the air. Her control over him was complete, and he gave in, wanting nothing more than to obey this command—to worship this goddess of war and darkness and desire, supplicate her body with his lips and tongue. He lifted his mouth to her sex and drank her in, gentle, savoring. Zara gasped as her body thrilled, taken aback at his tenderness. Slowly, his lips coaxed her to a breathless crest, and then another. Her legs giving out, she backed off him to collapse onto his chest, panting.

"Zara, I'm not a bad person. I never did that with other women in the prison. You don't know what they were going to do to you," he told her, a pleading note in his voice. "The Emperor thought that you would break if they could take your honor. I don't want to tell you what they would have done. I said that I would see to it." Tarsus was silent a moment, his face dark.

Wriggling backwards atop him, Zara watched his gaze register surprise as the head of his shaft came into contact with her wet entrance. Slowly, the throbbing tip split apart her lips, stretching soft tissue as she let him in bit by bit. Her eyes never left his as she impaled herself on him. Panting, she pushed him deeper and deeper, beads of sweat slipping down her thighs. When his full length was at last sheathed within her, she stopped, breathing labored as her body adjusted.

Breathing raggedly, he trembled beneath her, waiting, desperately hoping that she would not stop. He felt her squeeze him lightly, her warm, smooth walls contracting around his cock, and moaned involuntarily.

"I know who you really are."

His haze of pleasure chilled at her words. No. Now, she would kill him. He braced himself and watched her, her beautiful breasts heaving slightly, taut belly shiny with sweat. Zara raised the dagger in her right hand and drove it forward forcefully.

"You are the Emperor's only son," she whispered.

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Tarsus opened his eyes cautiously. The dagger protruded from the wall above his head, hilt-deep in the woodwork. Zara rolled her hips, making him growl, adrenalin and pleasure a deadly combination. Sitting up on her heels, she started fucking him, head thrown back, back arched, her breasts swinging temptingly in front of his face. He reached up with his tongue, capturing a nipple for a brief second. Hissing, she leaned into him, stilling her motion to offer her breasts to his mouth. Suckling eagerly, he groaned as she let him slip out of her. She pushed back to tease the tip of his cock, rubbing against him, letting her pussy catch on his head before sliding away. He gasped in torture, still smothered in her tits.

Finally, throwing caution to the winds, he jerked his hips against her, lodging his wide head into her opening. Biting her lip, she pressed against him, sliding her pussy up and down his pole. He panted as she allowed him to match her thrusts, moving faster and faster, plunging his cock into her pussy. She sat up to ride him, and he let out a strangled sound as he watched his big cock sink into her again and again.

"You want me to fuck you and make you cum?" Zara asked, watching him through slitted eyes.

"Y-yes."

"You better ask me nicely," she told him wickedly, lifting up off him. He gave a snarl of frustration, tossing his head, and she dug her nails into his shoulders.

"Please," he gasped, feeling the heat of her cunt just above him. She raised an eyebrow. "Please...F-fuck me," he managed, gritting his teeth. "Captain Zara."

"Good," she told him, and dropped her hips, taking all of him in one push. He nearly screamed, grinding his hips against hers, trying to make sure every last bit of his cock was stuffed into her. She clenched around him, gyrating her hips, hands moving to clutch her breasts. Moaning, her head dropped back and her pussy tightened around him like a vise as she came. Grunting, Tarsus strained against her, cock twitching until he erupted inside her with a shout, filling her spasming pussy with his cum.

He lay gasping for breath, the room spinning dizzily as she dismounted.

"Now," she said, "You're going to tell me how to get out of here."