All A Hero Needs Is A Quest 4 (Patreon)

Hoofbeats prickled at her consciousness. The crunch of snow underfoot. Screams, but less than before. Fewer people to scream. The horror had given way to tears—she heard their sobs and as if to compensate, another lightning bolt struck and Vicca was panting, gurgling on all the pleasure she was stuffed with, letting it out in tears and sighs and the slick wet feeling down between her thighs, trickling through the cleft of her buttocks.

His hands held her close, held her tight. In time they would stroke her, caress her, as he had when they’d kissed, but for now they only held her in place to receive him again and again. She would take as many of his cruel kisses and his wrathful thrusts as Karne wanted to give her. As he needed to give her.

Vicca moved with him now, as best she could. She knew little of her own body, but Karne had taught her much of his own needs and passions. The rhythm of her surging hips soon equaled Karne’s thrusts, giving him everything he demanded and more.

She urged him on, accepting everything he gave and begging for more with the defeated yet challenging look on her beautiful face. Karne powered into her until the rhythm he set was once more lord over both of them, for as long as it could hold, then he himself was subsumed into one potent moment of stillness, silence, holding them both in its grip.

Vicca felt him flood her with a grateful sound of release. She sighed herself, the sound mingling with his little relieved howl. She was irrationally proud of herself to have gotten this raging river out of a man.

It seemed like a miracle. There was so much. It was so warm. She held a lake of it inside her—his maleness shrunk as though to make room, but as stretched and widened and broken as he’d made her, she still wasn’t big enough. It seeped out of her, making her sex feel even more swamped than it already was.

And lighting bombarded her as though that liquid heat inside had made her a lightning rod. She was rattled by the thunder again and again and again, until there was nothing more for the lightning to hit. Her eyes rolling back in her head, Vicca passed from the waking world fully into the dream that this experience had halfway been.

When she awoke, the air crackled with silence. For all its chill, there was no sound to carry, not from any distance. Whatever tears her people’d had to shed, they’d run out. And in her slumber, Vicca’s own grief had subsided.

She didn’t feel tired, but she felt nothing else either. Her sleep had drained her of exhaustion but not replenished her with anything to take its place. Except the ache that seemed like a physical reflection of her sordid memory—thoughts of lust and passion she was now burdened with.

Vicca saw now why her parents had guarded so zealously against her losing her virginity before she was wed. Now that she knew what the space between her legs was truly for, and all the feelings it could give with only one other person to help search them out, she knew she could not go back to pretending she didn’t know those sensations. She would always have an idea of the pleasure that was possible for her.

She would think of it often—she didn’t know how much, only that it would never wholly leave her mind again. Every day, she’d remember what Karne could do to her. Perhaps every hour. Maybe even every minute. There was no way to go back to the ignorance that had once let her disregard such things.

Karne lay with her, his clothes straightened, both to blunt the cold against himself and to give her shelter as he held her in his arms. Vicca felt absurdly grateful to him—perhaps because she couldn’t summon up any rancor to balance it out. He had spared her the foul use that the raiders would’ve put her to… perhaps even a sadistic marking with the cauldron of boiling blue pitch that they brought with them.

It was as though they couldn’t be content until everyone in their village had tasted of it. The raiders hauled it by wagon, and only so much on each trip, so at least they ran out before the entire village was scarred. They seemed to take a special delight in exposing fresh bodies to this punishment they had not yet known.

Vicca knew when she and Karne got back, she would see at least some of her neighbors with the mark of the acid. It ate away the flesh down to the bone, but somehow did not kill. Like a cauterized wound, the canyon in their flesh simply remained, healthy but for the pain of raw nerves exposed to air that was as poison.

Some still lived, years after the hurt, lacking faces but gaining skulls… missing fingers but not fingerbones…

“It’s all over now, isn’t it?” she asked, her voice small.

Karne nodded, holding her close enough that his shaggy hair brushed against his cheek. He held her close but not possessively. More to assure himself of where she was, as she would’ve held him if she hadn’t slipped into total pliancy.

She wondered how long he’d been awake, if he’d slept too, or if he’d stood this unconventional watch over her, ensuring she was safe from harm until he knew the raiders were on their way.

She shuddered to think what would’ve happened if she’d struggled free of him and run mindlessly back to the village, to share in the fate of the others unlucky enough to be caught. But she didn’t try to convince herself that Karne had done what he’d done out of protectiveness. He felt that, it was why he guarded her now, but what he’d said to her—I can’t stop, Vic, I can’t stop—he’d meant it.

“We should go back,” she said, feeling horribly insincere. Her words not real, just what she should say. “They’ll be worried about us. Happy that we didn’t get caught.”

“I don’t want to go back. Not yet.”

“We have to,” Vicca insisted, now feeling truly unreal. Nothing she said was meant. It was like she was a puppet, being worked by someone else, with someone else’s words coming through her flapping mouth. “We can’t stay here.”

“Yes, we can,” he pressed. “A little longer.”

Vicca shuddered. She felt it inside her—the seamy knowledge of what they could do together, impossible to ignore. It was a part of her, just as she’d feared when she’d woken up with her virginity irretrievable. Her cunt throbbed. She knew his erection was beating too—how softly it would hurt as it went inside her—and how good it would feel when it was all the way in.

“One more time,” Vicca breathed, telling herself she wouldn’t pass out this time. She would feel all of it, every last thrust. She wouldn’t miss anything.

And once they were done, then she would return to the village, even if she had to pull herself every last foot of the way.