Lavorra allows herself to be taken

The fire raging in her loins is the only thing she has to hold on to now. Lavorra hiccups softly on the remnant of the wine, and breaks eye contact with him at last.

“It’s not like I can stop you…” she murmurs, unable to look at him as the fire rises, finally managing to eclipse her spiritual desolation. “Just, not in front of them.”

She nods towards the other men.

He rises, leading her by the arm without a word. He takes her to a natural canopy, where a shorter ring of trees form a cave of bark and leaf. She steps into it, feeling the faintest tingle in her bare toes, a whisper of her magical connection to the ancient world. The Matron’s domain.

Wait, my oath?

She has no time to consider the implications, as Lorkan advances on her, gripping her by the forearms. At first, she thinks he is about to kiss her, and her lips part softly, her eyes half-lidded.

Then he spins her around.

“Wait -“ she gasps.

“Be quiet, knife-ears.” He growls. His strong hands pull her arms back, folding them behind her back and gripping them there; he presses on the back of his knee with his boot, forcing her first to her knees, and then onto all fours.

The **** of the slur hits her far hard that it had earlier on the forest road. But her outrage is nothing to the fluttering of her stomach as it rockets around inside her tormented mind.

Oh Matron, I liked that. Oh no.

He bears down on her, pressing his body to hers and she hears the clinking of his belt. Her own clothes are yanked down, baring her soft white bottom to the cool night air.

He’s going to fuck me like a whore.

Like a knife-eared whore.

She knows she is being taken, knows that she will be abused and used with no thought to her pleasure, and that he’d fuck her just as hard if she screamed and fought him.

But she is beyond the need to feel something now. She can feel how slick her thighs have grown, and her pussy pulses as she is exposed. He may be forcing himself upon her, but her body needs this. Badly.

With a fleshy slap, his manhood drops against her heart-shaped bum, and she hears him chuff like a bull. She tries to turn to look at him, but he presses her head down, buckling her body and forcing her face and chest into the ground. She yelps in pain at the pressure on her bruise. She can feel him, one hand holding her arms in place, the other cupping and caressing the dome of her ass.

SLAP!

His hand crashes against her rear with an almighty blow, sending tears into her eyes immediately, and making her bite hard on her lip to stop from crying out. Before she can yell at him, he slaps her other cheek, then returns to the first, and her bottom burns with pain.

But her pussy throbs again.

He begins to rub himself between her abused cheeks, his hand forcing her cheek into the dirt. He feels big, and thick, and she cannot help but part her lips, gasping a little, her tongue flinching longingly. She whimpers.

“Good girl. You’re a good little She-Elf.” He grunts.

She whimpers again.

He mutters a curse, his cock twitching between her cheeks. For one awful moment, she thinks he is going to take her there.

Then she moans low in her throat as his member forces a path between the slick folds her cunny, pushing immediately to the base without resistance. She tightens around him, her body reacting without guidance to envelop him, hold him, keep him close inside.

Her cheeks burn, knowing how obvious it must be that her body wants him inside her.

“You’re still tight though.” He grunts, as if reading her mind. With a thrust that rocks her entire body, he speaks again. “Pale little whore.”

He spanks her again, a little less savagely this time, and his hips smack against her rear. She feels his heavy balls against her thighs, and her toes curl.

He fills her with each thrust. And she feels him, his length coursing through her, his girth weighing heavy inside her, making her loins, her stomach, her everything feel full.

Feel like she has a purpose.

She shudders around him, her knees grinding into the dirt, her calves and feet jerking up and down with each thrust as he claps his hips against her. She tastes grass against her open mouth; feels him pulse inside her. Feels her heart thundering and her insides churning.

Oh no, is he going to…

He lets out something between a moan and a bellow and forces himself into her one last time, to the hilt. Then, perhaps by divine intervention she feels him withdraw, his meat twitching with every inch that leaves her. His cock slaps against her rump again, and a second later she feels the lashes as threads of his seed paint her back and bottom.

She feels a splash against her shoulder, an a trickle of cum works its way onto her sky-ward facing cheek. The odour is rich and heady, typical of a man like this, but the scent fills her nostrils, as she shudders in the dirt.

Dimly she is aware that, as she expected, he has not bothered to fulfil her needs. She has a distant sense of embarrassment at how much she’d like to lose herself to a quivering orgasm right now.

She feels him pull at her linens, yanking them from under her and letting her sore breasts - much more tender now - spill free. Then he roughly wipes at her back, more smearing than cleaning.

She gurgles something softly that even she can’t make out, and then gasps as she feels him slump against her, laying half over her, his breathing already growing shallow.

She squirms, then sighs, then resigns herself to her entrapment. Stuck beneath a towering man once again today.

It doesn’t feel so bad this time…

Almost cosy…

Pushed beyond exhaustion now, she loses herself to sleep.