Desires of the Crown

6 - Possessing the Ability to Kill

          Alliar

"Take off the dress." He commanded, his voice sending a shiver through my bones.

"Please." I whimpered, trying once again to push myself into the wooden post. I looked around for the final time trying to find something, some way to get myself out of this mess but there was nothing; everything I tried to use against him, he would only over power me in a second and he was well and truly blocking my exist so I couldn't run.

"I won't tell you again."

I cringed at his words and rested my head against the wood, closing my eyes tightly I put my hands behind me to grab a tight hold of the wooden post, partly to keep me from falling. This has to be a dream, just a terrible nightmare and all I had to do was to wake myself up.

I felt the firm callus touch of a hand on my collarbone, running along the small amount of exposed skin as his finger trailed around the edge of my ratted dress. This was no dream, this was the end of my life, to be taken and trashed against my will like some whore for their amusement and only to be killed when he was done with me.

His hands ran down my front, down past my breasts and stomach until both his hands grabbed hold of my hips firmly — surely leaving a deep bruise on my body. If I was going to die then I sure as hell wasn't going to make it easy for him. His harsh grip sent me over the edge. I reached out and pushed him in the chest hoping to get some space between us — or bet yet, for him to fall on his ass — with all my force, only he didn't do so much as even step backwards. I knew I should have taken those strength training lessons from Arthur a little more seriously. Looking into his eyes at that moment I saw my death playing out in front of me in the black holes that were his eyes. There was no fighting him, he could over power me in a second as my pathetic shove just proved, maybe I could run? Maybe he wasn't as fast as he looked? Even if I did run I would surely be caught by the guards outside, and what then? I would be killed no doubt about it.

The question was now, did I just give up and let him have me until I could think of a plan? Or did I run now and try to escape even though I know for a sure fact that I wouldn't get far?

I didn't have time to think of my answer as my captor soon made it for me. His eyes darkened even more if that were even possible as his grip on my hips became so deathly tight that pain began shooting through my body at an alarming rate. "Ow!" I screamed as he spun me around and shoved me into the wooden post so that his hands could begin pealing my dress off me without my hands stopping him in protest.

"Don't!" I all but commanded this time, as tears sprung in my eyes and started running down my checks uncontrollably.

I could almost feel his smirk from behind me as his warm breath fanned my now exposed shoulder. Was he seriously enjoying this? One hand reached out in front of me and grabbed a hold of both my wrist before I could protest and he stretched them out over the bed making me bend a little to keep my shoulders in place.

He tugged my dress down off my body with his free hand, while his other hand firmly keeping my wrist locked together so that I couldn't move. My dress landed in a heap pile around my ankles, his forceful grip moved back to my body until he forcefully pushed me down on the bed. I moved to swing myself off the mattress and run when his hands once again grabbed hold of me — clamping around my ankles — his eyes holding a deep and threatening warning. He tugged on ankles, dragging me back to him before he climbed up onto the bed and hovered over me. I screamed as I kicked out at him but he only dug his nails into my skin, further, almost drawing blood. I clamped my knees together as he grabbed hold of my wrists and moved them above my head.

I screamed out again and kicked at him — this time actually hitting him in the lower abdomen — trying to free myself. He glared at me in anger as he registered the kicked. He pulled back for a moment and suddenly I thought that I had the upper hand — that is, until he took the dagger out of his belt and smirked at me. He brought the dagger closer to me, his skilful fingers tilted it slightly to the dim light dance along the crystal like surface. My breath seemed to leave me as I interrupted his movements. Was he going to kill me? Or simply just scaring me? Either way I was most certainly fearful. Leaning back in to me, he began running the danger along my skin, the cool tickle of the blade against my skin had me holding in my breath.