Gabrielle muffled a frustrated groan and pressed her body closer to the warrior for warmth.

She didn't know exactly how many candle marks had passed since Xena finally succumbed to Morpheus' net, only that she had lay awake listening to the hollow sounds of the wind moving through the trees around their camp site for most of the night. During that time she had drifted in and out of an almost hypnotic state that threatened to hold her under in the horrifying, painful place of her own dreams. Each time she maintained a vigil strong enough to pull herself back just in time.

Her entire body ached through to the bone, the kind of ache that left her with less and less reserve. But if it was the choice of laying awake counting the moments to sun rise or being trapped in the nightmare one more time she told herself she would gladly bare the consequences of yet another sleep deprived night.

Gabrielle shivered from sheer exhaustion pulling the heavy fur skins higher to her neck. It felt like they had been traveling south for an eternity. Perhaps it was the direction that their journey drove them, or that Xena was pushing them harder than she could ever recall. She didn't know.

Perhaps it was that the weather was growing cooler and that their intimate nights under the stars would need to be traded for a soft bed and a roof. She knew she always felt a little depressed then. Xena would don her mask of ex-warlord and fierce protector whenever they needed to stay in a village. She simply wasn't as relaxed as when it was just the two of them, definitely not as affectionate.

Maybe it was a bit of both, or neither.

In the safety afforded by the night's natural sounds she raised fingers still thick with her lover's scent to her lips, seeking the comfort it would normally bring. A single tear escaped from an eyelid not quick enough to catch it and the young bard cursed herself for her own fragility.

It had been nearly four winters since Xena had approached her, or she had approached the dark beauty. It didn't matter now who had started what, which ever one of them had finally said the words of love, only that it had occurred and their lives since then had reached a state of contentment neither would have ever believed possible without the other.

Their first night together as lovers had been filled with a passion borne of long repressed desire. Gabrielle had delighted the Warrior Princess with a knowledge that her somewhat older and more experienced lover had not imagined. In turn the reformed warlord had exercised such tenderness and accessibility of heart that would have rivaled Aphrodite herself. There had been something else unexpected that night too, one Xena was hard pressed to pretend didn't surprise her; that her young lover had been intimate with another before her. They had only scouted around the issue after, Xena because she didn't want to embarrass Gabrielle, she supposed and Gabrielle because she hadn't known what explanation to give.

Word of their union spread throughout the land quicker than either could have anticipated. Almost instantly after the announcement made harmlessly by Gabrielle to a group of passing Amazons, arrangements for a joining ceremony were being prepared whether they wished it or not. After considerable persuasion Xena agreed to have the actual event, 'if there truly had to be one' held in Gabrielle's home village. Cyrene and Xena's brother made the two day journey to attend. No one could have been happier for them than Xena's mother who quietly breathed a sigh of relief to her daughter's now seemingly assured future happiness. And though less than enthusiastic to start with, Gabrielle's own parents soon realized the level of devotion the two women held for each other, relented and actually arranged the joining ceremony's feast.

Congratulations abounded from the men of Poteidia to the once most feared woman in all of Greece for finally claiming their beautiful town bard. Though joyous for her own reasons, Xena wanted to distance herself from the full implication of the assertion. Gabrielle remembered Xena looked so confused when she had actually encouraged her to take credit for the deed, that the bard thought her own heart may break from the shame of it. To protect whatever secret her betrothed was harboring Xena simply agreed and accepted the undeserved praise. Then the one time not long after their ceremony when she had attempted to bring the topic up directly with her, Gabrielle had burst into tears, telling her as little detail as possible.

"I was taken against my will, Xena. It was a long time ago, please don't make me talk about it now."

In her shock the warrior had unconditionally agreed, thus ensuring the exact topic would never be raised by her again. Although she had kept her promise, for each subsequent season as the anniversary of that harrowing night approached, she was forced to watch helplessly as Gabrielle's happy disposition would fade away until only a shadow of her love was visible. At first Xena would try her best to get her bard to talk about whatever it was that disturbed her so greatly, to share what it was that caused her pain, to at least halve the burden. But the anguish drafted on the face of her Warrior Princess only strengthened Gabrielle's conviction that the events related to that night, the loss of her virginity would forever be kept from her. She knew, even if Xena did not, if they were told, they could never be returned to that place where she held them so close and the two, in turn, would never ever be the same.

Xena rolled over in her slumber to face her bard. Her eyes remained shut and the gentle murmuring coming from her lips ensured she was still fast asleep. Gabrielle sighed, at least she could be thankful for that. Two nights before Xena had woken and found her young lover's face covered in tears from hours of silent lamentation. Gabrielle had almost weakened to the pleas from the older woman and told her. Now as she lay next to her listening to the soft tempo of undisturbed sleep, she gave thanks for what ounce of strength she still clutched on to. She would not take them there, it was hers alone to deal with.

Hers alone to find her way back from.

She had been barely a woman, still a child in many ways if she had let herself admit it, which she wouldn't. The fierce Warlord had passed through the tiny village, making claim to it's lands and goods, drinking it dry and taking what pleasures simple whim determined, then leaving what remained and moving on. There had been no hint that they would ever meet again and Gabrielle was thankful, at least in part, that they never had.

She had been staying in the tiny village, Matonia, at the depths of the coldest winter on record. Staying to visit family after assisting in the delivery of a healthy baby girl. Her uncle in his profound relief had named the tiny infant Gabrielle from gratitude. The labor had been extensive and if it hadn't been for the miracle of Gabrielle surmising that they could turn the baby while still inside its mother, than both mother and child would have surely perished. Fortunately her idea to reach in and assist the unborn resulted in a natural birth and two rescued souls. The village, poor and remote by it's very nature could ill afford it but were so astonished and thankful for the gift of renewed life had stretched winters stores and created a feast in the young girl's honor.

Dusk was approaching and their impromptu celebrations just underway when they appeared. A group of perhaps a dozen soldiers, heavily armored, led by the most imposing yet handsome creature Gabrielle had ever seen.

Standing easily six foot tall and cloaked in a heavy cape that draped around broad shoulders like caliginous downcast wings, she had watched in awe as the Warlord dismounted from a beast of equal unearthly spirit and entered the establishment of her uncle. It was the strides of unquestionable authority that had struck her at first, the hint of meticulously kept armor over leathered trousers and well donned militaristic boots flickering briefly with each gait.

It wasn't until a battle helmet was pulled back and locks of deep raven fell past the cloaked shoulders that Gabrielle realized the creature; the Warlord, was a woman. It made her shudder inwardly yet she was unable to look away. The image was powerful, almost frightening, but unmistakably drawing. There was something else too, though she had no language to explain it. A dull ache deep in her belly, remarkably subtle but undeniably present.

They called her "My Lord or Master" though the villages all knew it was not the name of her birth. Common people called her many things; Destroyer of Nations, Ares' Chosen, Murderer.

They demanded service at the modest inn, claiming rightly that it was the only one for several candle marks ride. There was hardly a choice of whether to serve them or not, they had come apparently peacefully, though dauntingly, to rest their bodies and spirit between raids. They required food, drink and in return maybe, just maybe, they would be passing Matonia over when they began their next assault. Food appeared and copious supplies of alcohol kept coming. Some of the younger available women, including the mildly besotted Gabrielle, stayed on as others hastily took their children to the safety of their homes.

Those that remained set about entertaining the Warlord and her troops, ensuring their cups were kept full, their stomachs satisfied, their ego's primed. In their minds, the villagers wanted to believe if the dark creature could be given what she wanted, then perhaps their village, occupied by generations of simple farmers would not be razed to the ground.

But as the night wore on Gabrielle became increasingly uncomfortable under the attention of these intruders and particularly their leader. She held position, initially by her uncles urging and then from her own good common sense, to serve behind the bar. Away from the direct line of the beautiful Warlord's gaze which had managed to stray back to her time and time again since she'd taken up position at the best table in the house. The difference in that gaze, Gabrielle realized acknowledging her own stolen glances, was she'd eventually averted her eyes to mind her own business, the Warlord had not. The feeling tugging deep in Gabrielle's belly had become one of dread, one that made her heed the words of an uncle barely five winters her senior without debate.

He had not managed to articulate it, too gentlemanly or embarrassed to discuss such things, but the intention was clear. In fact no one said the words outright when it became obvious the Warlord was equally as interested in the women, or one woman of Matonia as her lieutenants.

From her vantage point on the opposite side of the long wooden counter, Gabrielle was also still trying to fully understand why for all the Warlord's debauchery, merriment and foul language and the blatant intentions from her men pressed upon the other women and girls, why they were apparently leaving her in relative peace. She forced herself not to think about it too much. A mixture of relief and horror, or nightmare and fantasy kept revisited her over active imagination. She only knew she needed to stay busy, to keep her head down and her movements anything but enticing.

Then several of the Warlord's men retired to their lodgings for the night, some with each other or a girl they laid claim to. The port was passed off for whiskey and suddenly Gabrielle had been ordered to come away from her hiding place and serve at the main table. If she had held any doubts, even the slightest, of why the men had let her be before, they fell away as she was led to the Warlord.

Gabrielle's uncle did his best to refocus the Warlord's attention away from his charge, offering a challenge of knife throwing with the local iron smith for sport, more food, a story from their resident bard, but she would have none of it. She had drunk twice the quantity of alcohol of her men and under her own well broadcast recommendation had the sexual stamina of all of them put together.

'Was there someone foolish enough amongst them to question her?'

The head of the most feared army in Greece had come to town to eat and drink and have company in her bed that night. No one argued with the mighty Warrior Princess, no one that lived that is, but for the sake of her honor Gabrielle witnessed her uncle try.

She could still remember the tense interplay that transpired between the two.

"Please, she doesn't even work here." he had pleaded when she had unceremoniously pulled Gabrielle on her lap, apparently with little intention of letting go. Too shocked, Gabrielle tried not to show how truly terrified she was and stayed perched on the leathered knees, smiling nervously and trying to ignore the rank remarks about her developing figure.

At first the Warlord appeared to have ignored the pleas of Gabrielle's uncle, too busy with exploring the prize that sat so timidly upon her. Then without breaking her contact with the young body, her free hand pulled a dagger from an ample cleavage prominent even in the masculine disguise and plunged it up to it's hilt in the table top. Her stare told him to be thankful she had chosen not to include his hand in her target's site.

"She does tonight." she bellowed finally for all the room to hear. "Now unless you want to watch, you should leave us!"

Then and only then did Gabrielle see the hopelessness darkening her uncle's face. Defeated he bowed his head respectfully to the Warlord, backing away from the table amidst a flurry of lurid comments from her men. The Warlord seemed to speed up her attention on Gabrielle after that. Touching her possessively through the girl's modest garments as she continued to drink and banter with the others. Occasionally stopping to run her tongue along Gabrielle's jaw line or neck or to brush red blonde hair away from downcast eyes. Gabrielle stayed where she had been put, though she tried fruitlessly to convince her captor that she would be needed elsewhere. Anything that would release her from the position of Warlord's plaything in front of her kinsmen and neighbors who had after her uncles attempts become conspicuously quiet around their 'guest'.

When she thought she had drunk enough to fall the entire Athenian army and she'd long since usually have been asleep, the Warlord whispered something Gabrielle doubted was at all possible.

"Inn keeper." She had shouted so close to Gabrielle's ear that the girls head throbbed. "A room if you will." Her hand straying under a mid length skirt for the umpteenth time that evening as she added for an audience of only Gabrielle. "So we may know each other better."

With that she pushed Gabrielle off her lap and snapped her fingers at her first Lieutenant. Before Gabrielle had a chance to object a heavy leather satchel was shoved into her chest.

"Carry this." the soldier grunted.

"What is it?" she had asked struggling under the weight.

"It's your Master's saddle bags. Follow her now and be quick about it."

The 'Master' had strode off towards the stair case that would take them to the second floor of the establishment, in right her hand she held the mug she had been sculling from throughout the evening, in the other was a fresh wine skin she was handed from the bar. She paid no mind to the looks of barely disguised disgust coming from the towns people or for that matter, the open anticipation of her intentions with the girl from her own men. She stopped suddenly at the bottom, swaying a little, studying Gabrielle for several seconds who shifted uncomfortably under her gaze, then without thinking began to follow the path of the Warlord, she knew she had no other choice.

Those villagers that had remained through the night's events appeared regretful, even a little ashamed but took no action when the senseless groping had started. Then when she had been ordered to follow the Warlord to her sleeping quarters they all but looked the other way. She couldn't blame them, even so close to tears she told herself the Warrior seemed content with her prize and that meant she would retire to her bed to sleep it off, rather than a night of murder and pillaging. Gabrielle in a fashion had become their sacrificial lamb, their peace offering.

The Warlord was laying in the center of a rather robust looking bed holding a relaxed but still commanding position by the time Gabrielle had struggled up the stairs and closed the door behind her.

Out of the corner of her eye which she had kept downcast, Gabrielle tried to take in as much of the room's design as she could. She spotted a fire place well stoked off to her left. It threw much of the lighting the lodging's afforded and a surprising haze of warmth that made her body relax a little against the rising emotions within her. In front of it sat a huge tub filled with steaming water, fresh towels and soap resting beside it.

She was still clutching the Warlord's saddle bags when she finally allowed herself to look directly at the figure laying provocatively before her. The heavy cape had been removed and thrown over the back of the room's only chair, allowing full vision to the creature's intimidating appearance.

Without speaking the Warlord motioned for Gabrielle to place the saddle bag's at the foot of the bed which the young girl obliging did. After stowing the bags she turned to face her, trying to show a level of confidence, no matter how unnerved she felt. Perhaps Gabrielle thought lamely, she may simply wish my conversation skills to lull her to a peaceful sleep, or share something about herself. Her mouth was half open ready to break in to a veritable symphony of the best stretched tails she thought may entertain, when the Warlord's neutral expression returned to the same unbridled leering she had displayed in front of her men.

"I didn't bring you up here to entertain me with your infernal chatter, girl." she drooled, raising her hand in clear objection. "I have other plans for those beautiful lips."

Gabrielle felt certain her face had blushed red, not fully understanding the intention of her captor's words but enough to know they were carnal more than not.

"Take your clothes off." Came the unflinching instruction, Gabrielle's eyes widened.

"What do you want to do with me?"

The smirk shot a strike of panic up the young woman's back, immediately regretting the insolence of her words she feared the worst. But the Warlord remained lounging across the thickly cushioned bed moving her own hands down her body.

"For now I want to look at all of you, " she told her in a husky tone.

Gabrielle looked uncertainly at the Warlord, hoping against hope to see some sign of compassion there, some gentleness that she could feel safe in, but there was nothing. Only the raw hunger of a creature as dark as the god of war himself. The large splayed hand continued to stroke around the groin region of her body, as she stimulated herself through the thickness of the leather. Gabrielle turned away then, looking into the fire trying to steady nervous fingers as they worked her clothing loose, relying on the flames warmth to hide her fear. The last piece of clothing fell leaving her naked and facing the dancing lights.

"Turn around" the Warlord commanded evenly and Gabrielle obeyed, shyly trying to cover her nakedness with her hands. She'd never been naked in front of any one except her sister before and that definitely felt different. The dark Warlord rose from the bed and approached her silently. Almost cat like in her movements. When Gabrielle raised her eyes to meet hers finally she thought she may fall into inky depth. The face was cold, her lip starting to curl upward in a snarl like fashion.

Before she realized what the distinct expression meant, a hard authoritative slap had connected with her cheek bone, shunting her head sideways and sending her body almost crashing to the floor.

The Warlord gripped her chin in a vise like grip, stopping her from actually falling. Immediately Gabrielle's hands fell to her sides as she squeezed her eyes tight trying not to cry. "Don't cover yourself in front of me girl. I like a clear view of what's mine." She growled pressing her lips harshly to the younger mouth.

The kiss was powerful, claiming, it forced Gabrielle's lips apart to take a thick exploratory tongue that darted in and out, filling her in a way that spoke of lustful hunger. A need to feed. Teeth bit, and gorged upon the youthful mouth, only to stop and take up that feeding about her face and neck. The Warlord's hands were everywhere as Gabrielle stood frozen to the spot; her shoulders, her breasts, roaming downward to touch the furry patch of hair between her legs, hesitating before moving around to her bottom. When she finally released her, Gabrielle was forced to swallow blood that had risen in her mouth and steady herself from crumpling into a heap at her feet.

The Warlord's body also swayed momentarily before shoulders raising back and she stretched up to her naturally elevated height.

"Get in the bath." she gestured dismissively, unsnapping the clasps on her breast armor and dropping the brass plating where she stood. Her wrist braces came next, discarded on the side table as she staggered towards and flopped back on the bed.

Though she was doing a convincing enough job of not being affected by the proportions of alcohol she had consumed, the Warlord was heavily inebriated, less in control than she would typically allow. Under normal circumstances she may simply have let her body succumb to the affects of this much alcohol, sleep it off in her tent alone. But the battle had been particularly bloody, she had gained even more ground then she had anticipated and driven her enemy further to the South. It had been a long time since she had allowed herself to give into the animal needs of her blood lust, too long. The girl in front of her was a sweet intoxicant all by herself. And for that she would have her, own her, if only for a few grains of time, to release the beast that tore at her belly.

"I'm waiting." she told her impatiently, pulling herself up on her elbows when she realized the girl hadn't moved.

Gabrielle hesitated, not knowing how to address her but definitely not wanting to anger her. She was still struggling with keeping her hands at her sides.

 "I......I "

From her lounging position the Warlord looked through parted knees.

"What?"

"I'm sorry, I don't know what I should call you."

The Warlord's lips twitched as she grazed her tongue slowly across the soft opening of her own mouth. The act was a bold demonstration of her intentions and her power, so sexual in its tone that it left Gabrielle speechless.

"They call me many things," her voice relaying mild amusement.

"Some not fit for your ears," pausing again to stroke the girl's body with her eyes. "....but you may address me as all my property does. As Master or my Lord."

Gabrielle nodded submissively and did as she was instructed, washing her body slowly and as sensually as she knew how, trying to show the parts of her flesh she assumed that would be most desired. She still wasn't completely sure what was going to happen, she knew women and men were built different and she was pretty certain she'd never heard of one woman ever forcing another. The dark haired beauty wasn't like other women though. She commanded an army of 200 hundred or more of Greece's most dangerous warrior's and had earned a reputation that sent grown men scurrying in doors. If her behavior downstairs was any indicator, she also liked her sexual needs gratified by females in a manner that left no doubt who was in charge.

As Gabrielle washed herself, her captor questioned her about her age, her interests, about her experience. She had chuckled lightly into her drink when Gabrielle confessed her ignorance of the matters she was alluding to.

"You have had your first blood, haven't you?" she asked doubtingly.

"Yes" Gabrielle told her more confidently than she had intended.

"And what about men. How many have dipped themselves into your loins?"

 Gabrielle shook her head.

"No I haven't, I mean none, there hasn't been any."

"Women?"

 Her face glowed red making the Warrior almost choke with laughter.

"You do realize, why you're here don't you?"

Gabrielle nodded shamefully, swallowing hard she answered.

"Yes, my lord, I understand."

By the time Gabrielle had risen from the tub and dried herself off the Warlord appeared to be dozing. Gabrielle wrapped the towel around herself at first then discarded it remembering the response when she had tried to cover herself before.

She peered over the apparently sleeping form as quietly as possible. If it hadn't been for the leather trousers and the pitch black corsair shirt her captor wore she would have looked almost peaceful, unmistakably beautiful. Then those brilliant blue eyes shot open sending Gabrielle's heat beat clamoring to her throat. A swift pull had Gabrielle taken totally off balance and on the bed face down beside her, squirming under the weight as she was mounted from behind. Leather trousers pressing into her buttocks.

"You're going to like this." The Warlord announced, "Or at least I am. I'm going to give you something to remember me by. No one will ever make you feel the way I'm about to."

She gripped Gabrielle's hair in a tight fist and pulled her backwards to her. Leaning down she licked along her neckline and shoulders in the most humiliating manner.

"I bet no one's ever touched you here." she moaned, digging between barely parted legs. When Gabrielle didn't answer she took her hand away and pressed the full force of her groin against the soft backside.

"Well I'm nothing if not thorough. We'll get to it soon enough."

Gabrielle felt tears well up again, but she bit her lip not to make a sound. Still fully dressed the Warlord moved back and forth harshly simulating the motion of anal intercourse against her. Groaning as she soaked up the sensation. Gabrielle remained paralyzed unsure what she should do, trying hopelessly to shut out the image of what was being done to her and what would be done. Abruptly the Warlord rose up behind her like a panther guarding its pray.

"Turn over." she commanded evenly.

Gabrielle compliantly rolled over to face her, continuing to stare in the Warlord's strong features looking for the beautiful woman she kept glimpsing in them. An open fist backhanded her eyes away as the Warlord quickly moved her own legs so they were between the girls and pushed them cruelly apart to display the developing curls of her belly.

"Undo my trousers." she ordered, apparently losing a grip on her loosely held control.

Gabrielle sensed it too and obediently reached out to the leather item of clothing and commenced undoing the hooks that kept the garment closed. While she was struggling with the tiny catches, the recipient pulled a thin strip of leather from her shirt sleeve and was wrapping it around the girls slight wrists.

"Something tells me we don't really need to tie you down, do we? " She told her when her trousers were sufficiently left gaping. Gabrielle again attempted to stifle a whimper as her wrists were pulled high above her causing her to strain back as she was anchored to the head board.

"You're here because you know I'll leave your precious village alone while I'm happy. " the Warlord pulled on the leather ties firmly to ensure its security.

"I'm right aren't I," she coaxed. "You're my offering, my 5000 dinar. How noble......" Her hands roved over a slight tort nipple then, ignoring the body trying to force itself harder against the mattress. She rubbed it till it swelled as she watched Gabrielle struggle. Her lips twitched lightly almost into a satisfying smile again before she claimed the other offered breast, sucking on it, first with the gentleness of an infant taking nourishment, then harder and harder until she was leaving ugly marks in her wake.

In her humiliation Gabrielle retreated into herself, as an array of hungry lips and invasive hands feasted on her upper body. If this was all the Warlord wanted from her Gabrielle told herself silently she could bare it. She wanted to be a bard after all, she would simply imagine herself away. Imagine a beautiful yet frightening woman wasn't laying upon her, pressing her sex against her. The woman wasn't moaning and filling her ears with things she wanted to do to her in the most graphic detail. It was almost working, she had separated her head from what was being done to her breasts, her neck, her mouth, when the Warlord extended her exploration further down between her parted legs. Coarse fingers snaring the soft layer of hair that covered her most private place, pulling and twisting.

"You like that, don't you?" the Warlord offered, convinced of her ability to excite.

Fingers not pulling at the auburn mass danced around the tiny folds of Gabrielle's center, parting them easily with the moisture that had formed there. To her shame and the Warlord's obvious delight the brutal foreplay had caused her body, if not Gabrielle's mind, to respond.

"Is that all for me?" she crooned, pressing her index and forefinger's against the girls cavern, she bathed in the wet silk, spreading it liberally. Tasting it and offering it to Gabrielle to sample.

Gabrielle turned her face away defeated and bitterly ashamed as the long dexterous fingers stroked up and down the swollen cleft of her sex, burning her, playing at her desire as the Warlord continued to watch her attempts to deny what was happening to her.

She took her time with her, alternating between using the tips of her fingers to graze around the nether lips, lightly stroking them and watching new amounts of moisture form and using both hands to part the virginal bush, delving a finger up to her first knuckle. The girl would try to pull her knees together then and she'd need to remind her with a slap she was wasting her time. Then when Gabrielle believed the humiliating touching could go no further and in succinct timing to the Warlord's breathing leveling out to a haunting calm, two fingers abruptly drove up into her exposed entrance, tearing through a barrier of flesh as it went.

Before Gabrielle could recover, try to deal with the unfathomable trauma caused by the breach, two more fingers followed in quick succession, wrenching at her insides. Her body jerked and convulsed with the hostility of the Warlord's thrust, crying out an endless howl, she pleaded for her to stop. So painful, so unbearably painful. Her words fell to the deaf, more and more was she pushed, wider and wider was she opened until eventually she had taken her whole fist into her.

"Remember this sweet one, always remember who you gave yourself to first." The Warlord slobbered sensually over her.

Gabrielle's screams for mercy continued as the beast rode them like the added ecstasy that they were. Goading her to beg louder. The Warlord's free hand was shoved down her own trousers, reaching for an unknown state of rapture as she gazed down at the sodden entrance, virginal blood and natural lubricate made her fist slide easily at first. Now the cavern was raw, starting to dry around her, she pushed harder, taking every last piece of the moment that she could.

When her climax struck, it was like a bolt of lightening clapping up from her core, sending her seemingly rocketing away from the girl on a solitary journey to the stars. Dark eyes locked on the ceiling, shuddering contra to its impact as her whole body trembled uncontrollably. Her final cry equaled Gabrielle's, long and hard like a wolf claiming its prey in the night. Then she seemed to be thrown against the rush so powerful that it crushed her body and left her collapsed on top of the girl.

Gabrielle listened as the sounds of the Warlord's respiration labored for a long time before counting into a steadied rhythm against her. Slowly she withdrew her fist from Gabrielle, then parting the fingers to gaze upon the dark liquid that had gathered there. She took them, one at a time into own her mouth, her tongue swirling and licking reminiscently.

Then she was holding the bloody digits in front of Gabrielle. "Taste it." she ordered through halting breath. Taste your gift to me."

"I didn't give it. You took it." Gabrielle swallowed hard trying to breath through her nose.

"Oh you gave it baby." The Warlord crooned. "You see it's all over me."

Gabrielle continued to keep her jaw and her lips tightly clamped shut, moving her head from side to side as the Warlord teased her with the bloody fingers. But patience, Gabrielle realized was not something the she possessed a great deal of and just as quickly she grabbed Gabrielle's throat with her unsoiled hand, squeezing until she had no choice but to bluster for air. Without delay she thrust her bloodstained fingers deep into the open mouth. Gabrielle gagged with the revolting invasion, fighting back the immediate urge to vomit. Instinctively the Warlord pulled out just enough to allow her to keep the digits on her tongue and breath.

Pulling at Gabrielle's hair, she tilted her head away from her.

"Suck them! Suck them clean bitch" Came the order that permitted no argument. Hopelessly Gabrielle began to lubricate the drying mass with her own saliva, swallowing the fowl smelling combination down, trying unsuccessfully not to taste it. Between the swallows she strained for air, sobbing incoherently.

The sight of the girl's utter despair only assisted in fueling the Warlord to a higher need. She began thrusting the fingers harshly into Gabrielle's mouth again, describing how it felt to take her between her legs with them so completely. It was too much, Gabrielle could bare it no longer, in her humiliation and hatred for the creature above her she bit down as hard as she could on the assaulting extremities, causing their owner to reel back and hastily yank them free. The response was so quick that she hardly had time to take her first unrestrained breath when the fingers had circled themselves into a tight fist, connecting with deadly accuracy between her nose and upper lip. Blind pain shot through her upper body and soft skin parted easily as blood spurted out, trickling into Gabrielle's mouth to mix with the bile that had risen immediately. Overflowing and forming into a red stream along the youthful face that was turned away.

Too shocked to fight she was roughly turned back over to face away from her attacker, her hands twisted and burned in the leather straps that held her in place. Within an instant the Warlord was behind her, squeezing her buttocks and pulling her defeated body to a semi kneeling position. A remarkably even motion separated her legs as she was pulled back against open trousers.

Blood continued to spill out of Gabrielle's nose and mouth and in her hazed state of being she thought distantly that perhaps it was broken. Her head spun unmercifully and the urge to vomit revisited her again. 'Resist it' she told herself firmly sensing the consequence for any such act would be more than she could stand.

Then she felt it, hard and stiff against her open legs. The Warlord had pulled it from her trousers though it still appeared to be attached to her some how. She was rubbing it against her, dragging it along the most intimate of places, the Warlords wrist slid past her torn entrance as it brushed another orifice.

"Damn sure no one's been here before have they?" she murmured against the girls ear. When Gabrielle didn't answer another blow slapped hard across the back of her head.

"Have they?" she shouted enraged.

 "No....."

"No what?"

"No my Lord"

The Warlord held the shaft snug against both the sequestered areas.

She told her, "This is a lesson I'm going to enjoy teaching you." pressing her forefinger into the previous uncharted territory.

The forced opening of her anus stung beyond description, she hadn't imagined anything could feel worse than the endless pounding of the Warlord's fist in her sex, yet here it was, so savage, so violating, pushing her towards even darker depths then before. Then suddenly the Warlord seemed to be showing her some warped kind of compassion. While still resting at the strained opening.

"Tell me you want me to teach you!" she whispered.

Gabrielle sobbed. "I want you to teach me, my Lord."

"And what exactly is it that you want to learn."

It was almost musical as the words danced with the same excitement being played behind her. Drawing back the Warlord eased out of her slowly, and slowly. slowly pushed back as far as the tight orifice would allow. Soothing her with gentle caressing along her spine as she manipulated the region to relax.

 "I.....I"

Gabrielle tried to move away but there was nowhere to go.

"Yes? Now don't go shy on me all of a sudden."

"I want......"

"Hmmm?"

"I want to.... learn .....how to....... serve you......"

Gabrielle's sorrowful, beaten reply was all the Warlord needed to send her totally over the edge in her brutal game of domination and submission. Fingers were withdrawn and replaced as eagerly by the stiff unyielding appendage that hung from her groin. She rammed into the girl with little thought other than for her own malevolent hunger.

At first she grunted softly as she thrust, seeming to reach a little deeper inside with every stroke as Gabrielle kneeled agonizingly open and bare to her. Words came spilling forth from her lips, incisive and unequivocally obscene, urging her captive to take her 'gift' harder and further until abruptly, she was matching Gabrielle's screams. She jerked and ground more definitely, digging her nails into the smooth youthful belly, clawing at her unmercifully as she spasmed and cried out again and again.

Gabrielle wanted to keep screaming, if only to shut out some of the pain. Though she knew no one, whether they heard her cries or not would come to help her. She had been given to the Warlord, not literally but in a fashion as an offering for the night. Insurance so their village would remain untouched. She was hers, what she did with or to the girl would not be challenged. Through the furious rape Gabrielle hoped strangely that those villagers who had been forced to occupy the other rooms could not hear her. As the reality that this night would eventually end and morning would come suddenly seemed possible she tried to quiet herself. If the Warlord let her live, she would need to face them, face them with the knowledge of being the one brutalized by Ares' chosen that night. She would never forget what was being done to her, the utter violation. But perhaps out of their own guilt or respect for her, without added reminders like cries in the night, the people of Matonia would. Against all her conditioning, all that she had been taught to believe, she forced herself to relax against the writhing motion of the Warlord's phallus as it thrust in and out of her.

She groaned and grunted upon her, oblivious to the fact the girl's screams had quieted, the struggle had ceased and the only sounds that pierced the winter's night now were the guttural tones of her own exhilaration.

Continued in Chapter 2: Disclosure

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