So Close

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Even in chains, their forbidden love conquers all.
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DireLilith
DireLilith
517 Followers

"Just listen to the sound of my voice. Listen to my words, what I'm speaking to you, right here and right now..."

The voice was determined, strong, and almost fiery in its passionate whisper.

"They can't hurt you. They can't hurt us! Our love only grows stronger in this trial. And we aren't weakened by what they do. We are not dead, we're still alive. And we're still together, no matter how far apart we sometimes feel from each other..."

The voice seemed almost to break and sob at that moment. And he thought he heard the sound of a heart breaking. Was it hers or his?

She kept going, knowing he had to hear how much she believed that they would come through this. The chains of her leg shackles jangled softly as she leaned against the pillar to which he had been chained.

"All the gods could not sever us, lover. This? This is as nothing next to what we have been through, just to be able to say we love. I love you more now than I ever have. And I know you still love me, no matter what they make you do..."

Now he shuddered, and was glad she could not see his weakness from her hiding place on the other side of his prison of stone. The things they made him do, he could not think of them again. The arenas, awash with the blood of the victims they threw at him, day after day. Severed limbs, scattered entrails, even the grey matter of brains. By the time the sun set, he would have washed the sandy floors of their gladiatorial theatres with such disgusting human leavings. No one stood a chance against his might. And here he sat, crouched and bitter, nearly in tears as he listened to the one voice that could break through his rage and madness.

"When it is hard for you, and I know, my love, that it is ever so hard...Think of me. My trials are nothing compared to yours but still I ache for you just the same as you must ache for me! It's your embrace I wish for and dream of, yours alone. When they make you fight, and make you kill, think of me..."

She wanted to cry for him, and wished she could trade places with him. His half of their latest ordeal was so much worse than hers. She'd given up her life as a human being, given up the respect of all mankind, just to be able to spend a night in his gigantic arms. Just to know she was only his. She'd given him her maidenhead and with it, her future, for now no human city would suffer her to live. Not after she had mated with an orc like him.

Their capture had been inevitable. But they had both expected and welcomed Death that night in the woods when they were set upon while still asleep in each other's arms. Death would be more welcome than this horror they each faced every day. For as he entertained their captors and the crowds with gory bouts and fiendish battles, each more ferocious than the last...she was made to pleasure dozens of men, each night. As her one true love was brought down by nets and forced into chains once more, she was made to lay down with strangers, men -- and women -- and sometimes beast.

No matter to her though, no matter that she knew not the names of these lovers that passed between her thighs. She knew nothing of the hands that pawed her curves and breasts, that dipped between her legs and fingered and played with her privacy. She knew not and cared not who suckled at her from one minute to the next, and knew only that each night there would be some new degradation for her. Worse, knew that her lover faced greater dangers than she ever would.

He was a monster, a beast in the eyes of all mankind. His race brought cruelty and merciless killing to the battlefield, and he would be tortured and punished for every crime any orc had ever committed. It didn't matter that he would never hurt another living being except under fear of death. His touch, for her, had been so gentle, so tender -- unless in passion she begged him for more. She often had, and even then he was always under control, always the master of his power. Even as his thick cock penetrated her for the first time, even as she felt her womanhood tearing as his immensity..she had never feared him, not once.

These crowds he faced, every day, they wanted his hatred and they wanted his rage. They wanted him angry and wanted him crazed. That was how they got the blood they sought. That was how they satisfied their perversions, twisted perversions that they somehow justified by his mere existence. So long as they were not the ones tearing limbs from torsos, so long as it was not they who plunged blade after blade deep into the innocent thieves and tax defrauders. So long as it was not they who did the deed, they let themselves glory and revel in the pain and anguish this beast of a man could bring to them.

They loved him, in a sad and revolting sort of love that could only be his downfall. He had to fight it, she knew, fight it every minute of every battle. He had to fight to not give them everything he knew he could. What blood had they seen? It was nothing compared to what he could bring, if he ever relinquished his quiet and secretive control. She had seen what he was capable of. She knew he fought it as much as he could.

And yet, she still knew she had to provoke him. She chewed her lip and thought of subtle womanly ways to do so. The next fight, in the next arena, she would be there. She would be paraded before him, naked and dripping the juices of strangers down her thighs. She would be smiling and crying, all at once. She would be the prize he would fight for, and he would indeed win them their freedom.

Sometimes the hands were gentle for her. Sometimes the lovers were considerate, courteous even. Their hands could pleasure her, if she let them. She could ride them willingly, feel the ecstasy of joined orgasmic pleasure. And that was what she did, to survive. But in every whore's life a time comes when the physical pleasures no longer please the soul. The drugged wines and wine-stained lips stop tasting so sweet, and the poisons that wound the heart weigh heavier than those that slowly degrade the mind. She was going too near that point. Every night brought her closer. She needed her escape. And she needed his help.

"No matter how far apart we are," she said, emphasizing how far apart they really were with another jingle of her chains.

"We are always together. You must not forget me -- "

"Never..." came his quick and soft reply.

"You must remember my touch. The feel of lying between my legs, kneeling behind me. The way it was when it was only us two. You must not forget!"

"We have been so close," his broken lips muttered.

"And we are still so close, no matter how far..."

She could hear the crunch of his knuckles as he made a fist and tested his chains.

"So close..."

"...no matter how far..." he answered.

Tomorrow, his chains would break. The palace would be drenched in the blood of any who stood in his way. They would see his might as the last thing they saw before their death came! And he would fight, and not stop fighting, not until she was in his arms again. Not until he had torn the chains from her wrists and ankles, smashed the veils that curtained her whore's bedding, and slain every man who had ever looked on her naked flesh!

"So close....," he whispered.

"...no matter how far," came her voice, distant now as she reluctantly pulled herself away, to return to the harem. To the men who could never be him. To wait until tomorrow and hope that finally he would break both of them free!

DireLilith
DireLilith
517 Followers
  • COMMENTS
1 Comments
pjwolfpjwolfalmost 17 years ago
Beautifully written and illustrated!!!!

Eroticism can often be found in the anticipation (and sometimes in the unattainable, yet hopeful circumstances). The artwork, and the way in which it is woven, piece by piece, through the story is the icing on this cake.

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