<a href= https://www.ticklingforum.com/showthread.php?326106-War%92s-End-The-King-of-Traitors-Part-1-(F-M)&>Part 1 (F/M)</a>
<a href= https://www.ticklingforum.com/showthread.php?326144-War%92s-End-The-King-of-Traitors-Part-2-(F-M)>Part 2 (F/M)</a>
<a href= https://www.ticklingforum.com/showthread.php?326180-War%92s-End-The-King-of-Traitors-Part-3-(F-M)&>Part 3 (F/M)</a>
<a href= https://www.ticklingforum.com/showthread.php?326203-War%92s-End-The-King-of-Traitors-Part-4-(FF-M)>Part 4 (FF/M)</a>
<a href= http://www.ticklingforum.com/showthread.php?326307-War%92s-End-The-King-of-Traitors-Part-5-(M-M)>Part 5 (M/M)</a>
<a href= https://www.ticklingforum.com/showthread.php?326350-War%92s-End-The-King-of-Traitors-Part-6-(FFFFFF-M-M-M)>Part 6 (FFFFFF/M, M/M)</a>
<a href = https://www.ticklingforum.com/showthread.php?326384-War%92s-End-The-King-of-Traitors-Part-7-(FM-M)>Part 7 (FM/M)</a>
<a href= https://www.ticklingforum.com/showthread.php?326551-War%92s-End-The-King-of-Traitors-Part-8-(F-M)>Part 8 (F/M)</a>
<a href= https://www.ticklingforum.com/showthread.php?326640-War%92s-End-The-King-of-Traitors-Part-9-(F-M)>Part 9 (F/M)</a>
Samuel wheeled his horse at the front of the army, sweat coating his olive brow. Like David, the wounds he’d sustained in the gladiator circuit had healed almost completely over the past week, and the persistent black eye he suffered was easily hidden under his wild black curls of hair.
He stopped and looked out over the ragamuffin troops; many were gladiators freed from the circuits in the span of days they’d set up camp; others were members of the Cerces militia, the force that had overrun the Astaleze capital a few months prior. Only a handful of soldiers stood among them, their polished armor way out of place.
“Does everyone understand the plan?”
“Yessir!”
He nodded, then hesitated, staring at the blond boy standing beside him. David looked up at his general, grinning. “This suits you, Sam.”
“O-of course it does,” Samuel retorted, but glanced back down at David all the same. He was wearing nothing but bloodied rags, and a bit of pigs’ blood had been splashed on his face for good measure. Samuel had spent many years in the Astaleze gladiator circuits, and wouldn’t have questioned a corpse looking like that. Less than that, even.
Still, David’s smile somehow widened and he clapped Samuel’s knee. “You led our army once before. You’ll do it just fine again.”
Samuel swallowed. “Is Elana ready?”
David bit his lip. “I don’t think she’ll ever be ready.”
“Oh.” Samuel frowned. “Right. Well, I think everyone’s got the idea. We just need to find your princess.” He offered David a hand. “C’mon.”
David hopped onto the horse behind Samuel, sitting sidesaddle with one hand on Samuel’s waist to steady himself. Samuel trotted into the heart of the camp, risking a glance at David.
The kid was three years younger than him, at least, but had the will of a lion. The only thing Samuel had done was explain David’s crazy plan to the army and set up how they would carry it out. It wasn’t the first time, and hopefully it wouldn’t be the last. He was a general, not a king. And he definitely wasn’t King David of Cerces.
Samuel brought his horse to a stop in front of the tent serving as the camp’s war room. He leaped out of the saddle and landed hard in the worn mud outside. He brushed the muck off and stepped into the tent as David slid off the horse.
“Ladies.” Samuel glanced between Princess Elana and General Cilen, who hovered over a conference table deep in discussion. Elana’s dark curls spilled over the shoulders of her loose tunic, and she met Samuel’s gaze with bright blue eyes. He swallowed. “David’s here. And Princess, I have to warn you: he’s in costume.”
“Costume?” Elana echoed, and stood sharply as David entered the tent behind him. “Dear gods, rebel!”
“Princess, I’m fine. I’m fine, I promise! Don’t touch me, I’ll get your dress all dirty.” David shoved her back before she could hug him. “I’m just trying to play the part, Elana.”
“So it’s too late to tell you this plan is crazy, then?” She captured him in a gaze so sorrowful that Samuel had to bite his lip to keep a straight face.
David set his jaw. “You don’t have to tell me this is crazy. I know it’s crazy. Cilen has told me it’s crazy.”
The general raised a hand. “I have, Your Highness.”
Samuel waved. “I have too.”
Elana turned back to him. “And what, you’re not going to listen to any of us?”
David tested the shreds of his shirt. “If this works, we end a war.”
“And if it doesn’t, we start a new one!” Elana squeezed her eyes shut. “Okay. It’ll be okay. Just… promise me you’ll stay safe.”
David saluted, clapping a fist over his heart. “I promise. And I promise I’ll keep you safe.”
“Right.” Elana huffed and straightened her clothes. “I don’t really look like a queen, do I?”
“That’s the point, Princess.” Cilen walked around the table. “You’re supposed to look exhausted and unregal.”
“Yeah.” Elana bounced on her toes. “The exhaustion part won’t be hard. I haven’t had a full night’s sleep in months.”
David reddened, but Cilen frowned. “Even since we found His Highness?”
“Especially since,” she replied, her eyebrows raised suggestively.
Samuel swallowed a chuckle as David went even redder. The kid could be an idiot, but he picked his partner well.
“Okay then.” Cilen snatched up an inkwell from the table and dashed it over Elana’s arm.
She cursed. “What the hell, General?”
“You’re overwhelmed. Taking nothing but notes all day.” Cilen offered her a sly smile. “Look like it.”
“Yeah, well…” Elana examined the blue staining her skin and clothes. “This was my favorite tunic.”
Cilen went rigid, so Samuel grabbed Elana by the shoulder and steered her out of the tent. “Let’s get going. We don’t want to be late to the meeting.”
“Right.” Elana ruffled her clothes. “Unregal, exhausted, and overwhelmed. Got it.”
“C’mon, Princess.” Samuel pointed at her horse. “Ready?”
“As I’ll ever be.” As Elana struggled to climb on her tan stallion, Samuel turned to David, unhooking the unusually small sheathe from his side.
“Here you are. Your favorite size.” He shoved the short sword against David’s chest.
“Wow.” David weighed the weapon. “Thanks, Sam. But what about you?”
“I’m going unarmed, like Elana. Emissary, remember?”
“Right.” He glanced down at the sword once more.
Samuel glared at him. “Listen, kid. This will be all up to you. Don’t screw this up.”
“I won’t,” he promised, then shot straight. “Fuck you, Sam! I’m of age and you know it!”
“You don’t act like it,” Samuel retorted, mounting his horse. “Now shut up and be dead already.”
David mumbled more curses as he hid the sword under the shreds of his shirt. Samuel grabbed him by the underarms, and, ignoring a ticklish twitch, dropped his limp form across the saddle in front of him. Elana had mounted her own horse, her hair upended by whatever trial she had gone through to do so.
She cantered up beside them. “So we’re doing this. He… he really looks dead.”
David looked up. “I’m not, Princess.”
“Shut up!” Samuel smacked the back of David’s head. “And yeah, we’re doing this. The entire army is waiting on your signal. Once Taria and Luim are dead, we’ll charge and overrun the whole city. This will save so many lives today, and so many lives in the future.” Samuel set his jaw, trying to believe his own reasoning. “You’ll pull it off. I know you will.”
“If you say, Sam.” Elana tapped the sides of her horse and guided it into the field between the camp and the city. Even from across the field, Samuel could see the glinting of metal weapons along the city streets. If they couldn’t carry it out, it would be a long, hard fight, and likely the first of many.
Two other people on horseback set into the field, only from the city’s side. Elana went rigid and paused in the center of the field as Taria and Luim approached. After a tense moment, they stopped a few yards away.
“Taria,” Elana said through gritted teeth.
“Elana, dear, please call me mother,” her stepmother replied in a saccharine voice.
“Mother,” Elana repeated, somehow even more tensely.
Samuel cleared his throat, distracting Elana before she leaped off her horse and throttled Taria with her bare hands. “Princess, if I may…?”
Elana took a deep breath. “Yes, Samuel, you may.”
Samuel led his horse into the overgrown grass between the two parties. Luim bristled, but Samuel simply tossed David’s form off his saddle. The King of Cerces landed heavy and limp in the mud, the sound of his body hitting the grass enough to disguise the rattle of the short sword in its sheathe. Samuel retreated back to camp, pausing for a second at Elana’s side.
“Don’t let her get to you.”
“I’m trying.”
***
David had landed hard, and Samuel had let him drop headfirst. Elana winced; some petty revenge, likely, but at least the rebel could see her.
She set her jaw. “Mother, I’d like to present you this traitor’s corpse as a gift.”
Taria raised her eyebrows. “A traitor? Not King David of Cerces?”
“He was no king. Just a liar and a thief. He was weak, he gave up secrets, and… and he was with other women.”
“Oh, darling—”
“I can’t do this on my own, Mother. It’s too much responsibility, and too much…” Elana sobbed against the neck of her horse. David had left her alone, and Cilen and Samuel had done so much of the work. “Please, please come back. I’ll never do this again. I need you.”
“You need me?” Taria echoed. “Ah, well, your traitor looks like you gave him everything he deserved.”
“He deserves more.” Elana’s voice broke. “Far more.”
“Well, girl, it’s about time you figured out his real intentions. I’ll be happy to come back and take a regency.” Taria slid off her horse and stepped past David, the hem of her dress flowing over the weeds. Luim dismounted as well, and both horses raced back to the city.
Elana mirrored them, still watching David. His gaze was glassy, but as she glanced down, he winked. She had to swallow a giggle, somehow turning it into a sob.
“It’s okay. I forgive you.” Taria gestured, arms spread wide in anticipation of a hug.
“Did you kill my father?” Elana asked.
“What?”
“My father. Did you kill him?”
Taria faltered. “You must understand, darling, he was weak and sickly. It had to be done.”
“You <i>bitch!”</i> Elana’s voice gave out halfway through her scream. “Murderer! Why would I ever ask you to come back?! Now, rebel!”
“What?” Taria turned, but David was up like a shot, naked blade already in hand. With the blood and mud on his face, he looked like a demon straight out of hell, complete with the fire in his brown eyes. With one swipe he plunged the sword deep into the ex-queen’s chest, its bloodied point protruding from the back of her dress. David kicked Taria’s corpse off his blade, but a hard fist closed around Elana’s arm and yanked her against an armored chest. A cold line bit into her windpipe as Luim pressed a knife against her neck.
“Drop the sword, traitor, or the blood of more than one royal will stain this field.”
David hesitated, his mouth agape, but Elana thought quickly. After the invasion of the Astaleze castle, her personal guard Aldien had taken it upon himself to teach her basic defensive tricks. She’d nearly broken his nose for his efforts, but the move worked.
She threw her head back, and it met Luim’s face with a crunch. The deposed captain of the guard let go and reeled to clutch his nose, but she had fallen free, and David lurched to meet his new opponent. He struck down Luim with a sweep of his sword, then paused to shed the ragged shirt he wore. Sweat gleamed on his skin, highlighting the scars on his form, and he spat on Luim’s chestplate. “Can’t be a traitor if I’m a king, you son of a bitch.”
“Trust me, rebel, you can.” Elana eyed Taria.
“Well then that makes me a king of traitors, huh?” David turned to her. He still looked like hell, barefoot, covered in mud and blood, with the remains of bruises yellowing his right shoulder. The sword in his hand dripped blood onto the grass by Luim’s body.
This was David of Cerces. Rebel leader. Gladiator. The man who Taria had thrown into her bedroom months prior. Who couldn’t do up the buttons on his shirt to save his life.
“Dave! Highness!” Samuel wheeled his horse around beside them, tearing up grass as he struggled to control the stallion. “It’s starting. We need to move now.” He pointed over David’s head toward the city. A small army was spilling out of the empty streets and pooling at the edge of the field.
David set his jaw. “I’m fine. Take Elana.”
Samuel nodded and offered Elana a hand onto the horse, but she swatted it away. “What? But all you have is a sword!”
“It’s more than I usually have,” he replied, turning to face the gathering army. “Samuel, please.”
“He’s right, Highness,” Samuel began. “Listen—”
An arrow landed deep in the grass between the three of them.
“Fuck!” David looked up, eyes ablaze. “Sam, get her out of here!”
“Yessir!”
Elana squealed as Samuel snatched her up by the waist and threw her unceremoniously against the horn of the horse’s saddle. It dug into her side painfully as he galloped back to camp, and she just caught the sight of David leaping onto a soldier, blade wide in an overhead swing.
A gladiator.
A warrior.
She struggled to stay on her feet as Samuel set her back down. “Sam, what the hell?!”
“An order’s an order, Highness.” He gestured at a nearby servant.
“If he dies out there, you better hope you do too!”
“I know.” Samuel caught the longsword the servant tossed to him and tested it. “I also know he’s not going to die. Kid’s like a roach.” He spun toward the field. “Just trust us. We know what we’re doing. Stay safe, Elana.” With a roar, he charged back onto the field, sword raised. Just as magnificent as David.
The Astaleze army followed him.
She screamed, but the sound was lost to the clatter of weapons and armor. All she could do was watch as the field exploded into open battle.
The fighting continued through the afternoon and even as dusk fell Elana could still hear the clash of metal on metal through the walls of her tent. She’d grown tired of watching the endless battle and retired back to her makeshift quarters, sitting on the wooden bed she and David had shared for the past week. She had even left a myola leaf on the bedside table, ready for whatever escapades they would get up to that night.
If he didn’t walk off that field, she wouldn’t know what to do.
“Princess?”
“David!” Elana shot to her feet as he pushed his way into the tent. He was soaking wet, with water streaming off his overgrown bangs, down his chest, and into the waistline of his pants. A few streaks of mud were left behind from his hurried bath, and he left wet footprints on her canvas carpet as he stepped closer.
He hesitated, wide-eyed as he noticed the look on her face. “I’m okay, I promise. I just—”
“You dumbass!” Her voice broke. “What were you thinking?”
“That I could handle it,” he replied. “And we did. Sam and Cilen are both okay, too.”
“How?”
“Believe it or not, they didn’t have much of an army.” David pulled her against his chest. It was cold and clammy, but Elana felt his heart beating under his scarred skin and reveled in it.
“So why is there still fighting, then?”
“It’s not much of an army, but they sure are stubborn.” He chuckled. “Kind of reminds me of you.” She looked up, expression venomous, and he backpedaled. “They just don’t give up, you know?”
“You’re such an idiot,” she repeated. “And what, did you just go jump in a river?”
“I might have.” He looked down. “I looked awful.”
“You did, but you’re freezing cold.”
“I am,” he agreed. “Princess, it’s been a long day.”
“Of course, rebel. Come here.”
He staggered toward her, and she met him with a towel in hand, draping it over his shoulders. He sighed and fell against her. She’d dealt with his dead weight many times, and dragged him onto the bed alongside her with relative ease. His breath came warm and soft against her throat, and despite its chill, she pressed her cheek against his wet hair.
***
David woke in the Astaleze castle, in Elana’s chambers. He started, wide-eyed. Yet another dream; it had to be. His entire body ached, heavy with exhaustion, and his bad shoulder throbbed with that too-familiar ache. He must’ve just been dragged out of another gladiator fight that hadn’t gone his way. Any moment his princess would walk through the bedroom doors, wearing a beautiful ball dress or— even better— nothing.
His hair felt clean, though. And though he was bare-chested and barefoot, his pants weren’t the burlap rags he’d gotten used to but rather the soft, tailored ones he was given in the castle. Too much detail.
It wasn’t a dream.
He leaped off the bed and raced for the door, only for his ankle to wrench a few feet from the doorway. He took a painful spill, and as he cursed, clutching his left foot, he looked back. Somehow he’d missed the rattle of the chain binding him to the canopy bed’s left foot post, its silver links running up to the fur-lined shackle on his ankle. He cursed again and reached for the clip that would free him, only to discover that a padlock had replaced it.
He stared at it, wide-eyed, then fumbled with the silver chain around his neck. There was a pendant hanging from it, the key to his anklet. He would just pop it off for a moment, hunt down Elana, wherever she was in the castle—
The key was gone.
“Fuck.” He hung his head. Barefoot, bare-chested, and chained to Elana’s bed?
She’d recreated his prison, the way he was bound when they first met.
The door swung open behind him with a creak. He rolled over to find Elana in an elegant dress, wearing, of all things, a jeweled tiara on her black waves. She was a princess, she should be wearing a tiara, but it struck him as odd.
She smiled. “You’re awake.”
“P-princess—”
“Before you say anything, you didn’t miss much.” She pulled the tiara off her head, upending her styled hair, and tossed it onto the wooden vanity. “Just the most pointless coronation ceremony in history. ‘The queen is dead, long live the queen.’” She scoffed. “Step-queen. That bitch was never part of the royal line. And don’t worry. I made sure everyone knows you have as much power as I do.” She bent over to poke his nose; he still squatted on his hands and knees on the wooden floor, dumbstruck. “Guess I’m queen now. But you can always call me princess. Prefer it, really.” She scrunched up her nose. “I don’t want Taria’s title.”
“O-of course, Princess.” David shook his head. “But if I can ask—”
“Figured it out?” She winked at him. “A little rumor got around that King David of Cerces was hurt in battle. Nothing serious, but he’s not going to be in the public eye for at least a week. Maybe longer.” She knelt, bringing his chin up to meet her gaze. “Now, a rebel is going to be punished as a traitor should be.”
He swallowed. “Princess—”
“Only Aldien, Sam, and Cilen know about this,” she continued with a giggle. “And I know they’ll keep their mouths shut.”
He paled.
“Maybe this will make you think twice about running off again.” She forced him to his feet by the chin and pushed him to the plush armchair by the room’s closet… the one with stocks at its feet and furry manacles running over its back.
“No.” He shook his head, but knew better than to fight back. “No!”
She ignored him, instead shoving him into the chair with one hand. He landed hard, winded, and gasped as she forced his arms up and into the cuffs over his head. He closed his eyes as she flipped open the stocks, lugged his legs into the holes, and snapped it closed. She tied the belt snuggly around his waist, then pecked him on the cheek. “Don’t look so betrayed, rebel. It’s not like this is anything new.”
“Elana…” his words trailed off as she tied his toes back to the stocks. The chair had been made to fit him; no amount of kicking could so much as budge his soles. He was stuck.
She looked up, a flash of concern lighting up her blue eyes. “Something wrong?”
His mouth worked, but nothing valid came to mind. He closed his jaw, reddening, and instead shook his head.
“Good.” The devious smile crossed her face once more, and she straddled his waist, the frills of her dress falling over his stomach and thighs. “So maybe you’ve learned your lesson about running off in the middle of the night.” She kissed him deeply.
David closed his eyes and leaned in, lulled by her siren song, but hesitated. She wanted something, and he wasn’t giving it to her.
He ripped away and scowled. “I haven’t learned shit. Don’t touch me, you royal bitch.”
Elana stared, stunned by his vulgarity, then grinned. “Very well, traitor, even if you say you’re royal too. Let’s see how long it takes to make you cry like one.” She made a big show of adjusting her weight on his lap, rubbing her pussy on his crotch. “And I should get out of this miserable thing, anyway.”
With one move, she pulled off her dress, leaving her straddling his waist, nude. Drool threatened to spill from David’s lips, and he swallowed nervously. She leaned in, and he couldn’t help but focus on the way her sizable breasts brushed up against his chest, her nipples settling just under his collarbones as she pressed her forehead to his. “David of Cerces, do you submit your reign to the crown of Astal?”
He swallowed again and managed to keep a straight face even though his cock strained against his pants, kissed by her pussy. “Fuck no.”
“Okay.” She chuckled, waving her sharp, painted fingernails under his nose. “Had these done for the coronation. Like them?”
He frowned and looked away, lips twitching as he forced the expression. “I don’t care.”
She cocked her head, digging around in a wooden crate lying beside the chair. “You don’t? Then you should be just fine with this.”
David gasped as she wrapped the blindfold around his eyes, this one soft, form-fitting, and pitch black, unlike the gray rag they’d used before. Not a bit of light entered; he’d been thrown into complete darkness.
Darkness, like his cage in the gladiator circuits after the guards put out the torches. Like that room he’d met Taria and Luim in, where he was almost sentenced to death in. Like—
Elana pressed a hand to his heaving chest, feeling his heartbeat jumping erratically. “Rebel? Are you okay?”
“I-I’m— I’m fine! It takes more than this to break me!”
“If you’re sure, rebel.” She chuckled, breaking character for a moment. “Remember, if anything’s too much, just tell me and I’ll stop. Your mind still needs to heal.” Her voice rose in pitch and she put on an accent that vaguely sounded like Taria’s. “Because I shall break you and end the Cerces rebellion right here!”
Her weight left his lap, and he whipped his head back and forth, trying to pick up on her footsteps. No luck; she’d moved the chair just enough so that it lay almost entirely on the plush rug between her wardrobe and bed. He’d only be able to find her if she spoke again.
Or if her manicured nails scraped savagely against the left side of his chest. His howl gave way to a squeal as one nicked his nipple. Elana giggled and traced his pink areola as David shook his head, hoping against hope that he could somehow knock the blindfold off and at least see his tormentress.
She ran her nails down the sides of his neck, making him grimace and try to somehow pull away. She giggled at his expression and continued to trace a path across his collarbones, and he went rigid as she tapped the pads of her fingers in the hollows of his armpits.
“I always thought this was so cute. You can’t grow a lick of hair anywhere else. Just this tiny bit right here.” She toyed with the tuft of blonde hair in his pit.
He snickered.
“Really, rebel? You’re that sensitive? I’m not even touching you. Just your tiny bit of body hair.”
“I… I shave!<i> Stahahahap!”</i>
“Just your chin. Brave king can’t grow a chest hair.”
David snarled, but broke down in giggles as she kept playing with the hair in his armpits.
“Getting worked up, rebel? Give up yet?”
<i>“Nehehehehever!”</i>
“Okay. It’s going to get a whole lot worse!” she said with a laugh. Her nails pushed through his armpit hair and touched the soft skin underneath, making him arch his back with a howl.
<i>“NohoHOHOHO!”</i>
She giggled again, tracing swirls and patterns in the hollows of his pits, drifting her nails up his upper arms and down his ribs every other moment. David’s eyes rolled back, and as he gasped for air, Elana pulled away. “Are you okay?”
“Fine,” he grunted. “Do your worst.”
She wrapped her hand around his throat, just enough that he could feel her nails under his ears. “Good. Because the next time I’ll stop, you’ll either be unconscious or a traitor to your own <i>fake</i> kingdom.”
She was playing her part well. She almost sounded like Luim.
Luim.
“David, you’re hyperventilating. If you’re not okay with it, don’t pretend to be for my sake.”
“Not everything’s about you!” he snapped, and Elana pulled back. “I… I’m sorry, Princess, but this is something I have to work through.” Elana wasn’t Luim. She wasn’t Taria, and she wasn’t some faceless Amazonian gladiator. She was his princess. He was safe with her. She was just playing a role. Pretending. Like how she’d been in those first few days she’d met him. Both Taria and Luim had died on his own blade. They would never hurt him again. They would never hurt her again. “Please. I don’t need you to go easy. But if you can… go slow. Please?”
“Of course.” She kissed him.
“Thanks.” He puffed up his chest. “And yeah, I’m a traitor. I’m proud to be a traitor, and so is my kingdom. I am the <i>king</i> of traitors!”
“Yes you are, my king.” Elana chuckled. “But I’m not going to take that for an answer!” she declared. “Submit your reign!”
“Never!”
“Then prove you’re worthy.” She straddled his lap again, and his dick strained against his pants, feeling her warmth. He gasped as she tweaked his nipples, then slowly dragged her nails down his chest, circling the soft scar covering his left side. She’d glance it with one finger from time to time, and he’d go taut like a bowstring and let out a low grunt. She smiled, daring to go further and further across his ticklish skin. She crept her nails up until she brushed the second scar stretching across his shoulders. David howled, struggling and failing to protect his sensitive, long ruined skin.
“I have,” David panted. “I’ve spent… my entire life… proving it.”
Elana’s eyes went wide at the look on his face. David wasn’t just a gladiator. He was an <i>escaped</i> gladiator, one who spent six months of his life on the run, whipping up a rebellion and defeating the tortures of the darkest dungeons in all of Astal. The scars on his arms weren’t from fights. They were from being jabbed with red-hot knives in the dungeon of Dalle. His expression wasn’t just feral; it was as steady and unbreaking as concrete, even with his cheeks red and chest heaving.
“All right, too much.” Elana stood, flipped open the stocks, and undid the manacles holding his arms over his head. She spun away to investigate her closet as David examined his wrists. “I had a tailor put together a wardrobe for you. I’m not sure if you want to show off your scars or not, so we have clothes that do bo— ah!”
David tackled her to the plush carpet, pinning her wrists above her head with one hand.
“I… need you… right now.” He kissed her. “Always.”
Elana laughed as he nipped her earlobe and sucked the skin on her collarbone. “Gods, rebel, you scared me! And of course.” She squirmed one hand free and undid the button on his pants, letting his drooling member pop free. David gasped, pulling back, then aligned himself and rammed into her hilt-deep, until his balls smacked the surface of her perfect ass. Elana grunted, a keening whine.
It snapped David out of it for a second. “Did I hurt you?”
“No.” She gripped his shoulder with one hand and balled another in his shaggy blonde hair. “I just forgot how big you were. You’re perfect, rebel.”
David grinned, and lust clouded his eyes again. He fucked her like a rabbit in heat, and Elana writhed under him once, twice, thrice until her spasming tunnel got him off. His eyes rolled back into his head and he fell back onto the carpet, a few dribbles of white still spilling onto his chest. Elana crawled up next to him as he heaved, a mix of their juices dripping down her thighs. “I didn’t kill you, did I, rebel?”
“That was the best orgasm I’ve ever had.”
“Wanna beat that?”
He smiled at her. “In a while.”
“Okay.” She flopped down next to him and threw an arm across his chest. “I love you, David.”
He hugged her arm. As he moved, the padlocked chain around his ankle jingled and he couldn’t help but smile. “I love you, too.”
<b>THE END
Thanks for your attention once again. Hope it was a good read.
-Ash
</b>
<a href= https://www.ticklingforum.com/showthread.php?326144-War%92s-End-The-King-of-Traitors-Part-2-(F-M)>Part 2 (F/M)</a>
<a href= https://www.ticklingforum.com/showthread.php?326180-War%92s-End-The-King-of-Traitors-Part-3-(F-M)&>Part 3 (F/M)</a>
<a href= https://www.ticklingforum.com/showthread.php?326203-War%92s-End-The-King-of-Traitors-Part-4-(FF-M)>Part 4 (FF/M)</a>
<a href= http://www.ticklingforum.com/showthread.php?326307-War%92s-End-The-King-of-Traitors-Part-5-(M-M)>Part 5 (M/M)</a>
<a href= https://www.ticklingforum.com/showthread.php?326350-War%92s-End-The-King-of-Traitors-Part-6-(FFFFFF-M-M-M)>Part 6 (FFFFFF/M, M/M)</a>
<a href = https://www.ticklingforum.com/showthread.php?326384-War%92s-End-The-King-of-Traitors-Part-7-(FM-M)>Part 7 (FM/M)</a>
<a href= https://www.ticklingforum.com/showthread.php?326551-War%92s-End-The-King-of-Traitors-Part-8-(F-M)>Part 8 (F/M)</a>
<a href= https://www.ticklingforum.com/showthread.php?326640-War%92s-End-The-King-of-Traitors-Part-9-(F-M)>Part 9 (F/M)</a>
Samuel wheeled his horse at the front of the army, sweat coating his olive brow. Like David, the wounds he’d sustained in the gladiator circuit had healed almost completely over the past week, and the persistent black eye he suffered was easily hidden under his wild black curls of hair.
He stopped and looked out over the ragamuffin troops; many were gladiators freed from the circuits in the span of days they’d set up camp; others were members of the Cerces militia, the force that had overrun the Astaleze capital a few months prior. Only a handful of soldiers stood among them, their polished armor way out of place.
“Does everyone understand the plan?”
“Yessir!”
He nodded, then hesitated, staring at the blond boy standing beside him. David looked up at his general, grinning. “This suits you, Sam.”
“O-of course it does,” Samuel retorted, but glanced back down at David all the same. He was wearing nothing but bloodied rags, and a bit of pigs’ blood had been splashed on his face for good measure. Samuel had spent many years in the Astaleze gladiator circuits, and wouldn’t have questioned a corpse looking like that. Less than that, even.
Still, David’s smile somehow widened and he clapped Samuel’s knee. “You led our army once before. You’ll do it just fine again.”
Samuel swallowed. “Is Elana ready?”
David bit his lip. “I don’t think she’ll ever be ready.”
“Oh.” Samuel frowned. “Right. Well, I think everyone’s got the idea. We just need to find your princess.” He offered David a hand. “C’mon.”
David hopped onto the horse behind Samuel, sitting sidesaddle with one hand on Samuel’s waist to steady himself. Samuel trotted into the heart of the camp, risking a glance at David.
The kid was three years younger than him, at least, but had the will of a lion. The only thing Samuel had done was explain David’s crazy plan to the army and set up how they would carry it out. It wasn’t the first time, and hopefully it wouldn’t be the last. He was a general, not a king. And he definitely wasn’t King David of Cerces.
Samuel brought his horse to a stop in front of the tent serving as the camp’s war room. He leaped out of the saddle and landed hard in the worn mud outside. He brushed the muck off and stepped into the tent as David slid off the horse.
“Ladies.” Samuel glanced between Princess Elana and General Cilen, who hovered over a conference table deep in discussion. Elana’s dark curls spilled over the shoulders of her loose tunic, and she met Samuel’s gaze with bright blue eyes. He swallowed. “David’s here. And Princess, I have to warn you: he’s in costume.”
“Costume?” Elana echoed, and stood sharply as David entered the tent behind him. “Dear gods, rebel!”
“Princess, I’m fine. I’m fine, I promise! Don’t touch me, I’ll get your dress all dirty.” David shoved her back before she could hug him. “I’m just trying to play the part, Elana.”
“So it’s too late to tell you this plan is crazy, then?” She captured him in a gaze so sorrowful that Samuel had to bite his lip to keep a straight face.
David set his jaw. “You don’t have to tell me this is crazy. I know it’s crazy. Cilen has told me it’s crazy.”
The general raised a hand. “I have, Your Highness.”
Samuel waved. “I have too.”
Elana turned back to him. “And what, you’re not going to listen to any of us?”
David tested the shreds of his shirt. “If this works, we end a war.”
“And if it doesn’t, we start a new one!” Elana squeezed her eyes shut. “Okay. It’ll be okay. Just… promise me you’ll stay safe.”
David saluted, clapping a fist over his heart. “I promise. And I promise I’ll keep you safe.”
“Right.” Elana huffed and straightened her clothes. “I don’t really look like a queen, do I?”
“That’s the point, Princess.” Cilen walked around the table. “You’re supposed to look exhausted and unregal.”
“Yeah.” Elana bounced on her toes. “The exhaustion part won’t be hard. I haven’t had a full night’s sleep in months.”
David reddened, but Cilen frowned. “Even since we found His Highness?”
“Especially since,” she replied, her eyebrows raised suggestively.
Samuel swallowed a chuckle as David went even redder. The kid could be an idiot, but he picked his partner well.
“Okay then.” Cilen snatched up an inkwell from the table and dashed it over Elana’s arm.
She cursed. “What the hell, General?”
“You’re overwhelmed. Taking nothing but notes all day.” Cilen offered her a sly smile. “Look like it.”
“Yeah, well…” Elana examined the blue staining her skin and clothes. “This was my favorite tunic.”
Cilen went rigid, so Samuel grabbed Elana by the shoulder and steered her out of the tent. “Let’s get going. We don’t want to be late to the meeting.”
“Right.” Elana ruffled her clothes. “Unregal, exhausted, and overwhelmed. Got it.”
“C’mon, Princess.” Samuel pointed at her horse. “Ready?”
“As I’ll ever be.” As Elana struggled to climb on her tan stallion, Samuel turned to David, unhooking the unusually small sheathe from his side.
“Here you are. Your favorite size.” He shoved the short sword against David’s chest.
“Wow.” David weighed the weapon. “Thanks, Sam. But what about you?”
“I’m going unarmed, like Elana. Emissary, remember?”
“Right.” He glanced down at the sword once more.
Samuel glared at him. “Listen, kid. This will be all up to you. Don’t screw this up.”
“I won’t,” he promised, then shot straight. “Fuck you, Sam! I’m of age and you know it!”
“You don’t act like it,” Samuel retorted, mounting his horse. “Now shut up and be dead already.”
David mumbled more curses as he hid the sword under the shreds of his shirt. Samuel grabbed him by the underarms, and, ignoring a ticklish twitch, dropped his limp form across the saddle in front of him. Elana had mounted her own horse, her hair upended by whatever trial she had gone through to do so.
She cantered up beside them. “So we’re doing this. He… he really looks dead.”
David looked up. “I’m not, Princess.”
“Shut up!” Samuel smacked the back of David’s head. “And yeah, we’re doing this. The entire army is waiting on your signal. Once Taria and Luim are dead, we’ll charge and overrun the whole city. This will save so many lives today, and so many lives in the future.” Samuel set his jaw, trying to believe his own reasoning. “You’ll pull it off. I know you will.”
“If you say, Sam.” Elana tapped the sides of her horse and guided it into the field between the camp and the city. Even from across the field, Samuel could see the glinting of metal weapons along the city streets. If they couldn’t carry it out, it would be a long, hard fight, and likely the first of many.
Two other people on horseback set into the field, only from the city’s side. Elana went rigid and paused in the center of the field as Taria and Luim approached. After a tense moment, they stopped a few yards away.
“Taria,” Elana said through gritted teeth.
“Elana, dear, please call me mother,” her stepmother replied in a saccharine voice.
“Mother,” Elana repeated, somehow even more tensely.
Samuel cleared his throat, distracting Elana before she leaped off her horse and throttled Taria with her bare hands. “Princess, if I may…?”
Elana took a deep breath. “Yes, Samuel, you may.”
Samuel led his horse into the overgrown grass between the two parties. Luim bristled, but Samuel simply tossed David’s form off his saddle. The King of Cerces landed heavy and limp in the mud, the sound of his body hitting the grass enough to disguise the rattle of the short sword in its sheathe. Samuel retreated back to camp, pausing for a second at Elana’s side.
“Don’t let her get to you.”
“I’m trying.”
***
David had landed hard, and Samuel had let him drop headfirst. Elana winced; some petty revenge, likely, but at least the rebel could see her.
She set her jaw. “Mother, I’d like to present you this traitor’s corpse as a gift.”
Taria raised her eyebrows. “A traitor? Not King David of Cerces?”
“He was no king. Just a liar and a thief. He was weak, he gave up secrets, and… and he was with other women.”
“Oh, darling—”
“I can’t do this on my own, Mother. It’s too much responsibility, and too much…” Elana sobbed against the neck of her horse. David had left her alone, and Cilen and Samuel had done so much of the work. “Please, please come back. I’ll never do this again. I need you.”
“You need me?” Taria echoed. “Ah, well, your traitor looks like you gave him everything he deserved.”
“He deserves more.” Elana’s voice broke. “Far more.”
“Well, girl, it’s about time you figured out his real intentions. I’ll be happy to come back and take a regency.” Taria slid off her horse and stepped past David, the hem of her dress flowing over the weeds. Luim dismounted as well, and both horses raced back to the city.
Elana mirrored them, still watching David. His gaze was glassy, but as she glanced down, he winked. She had to swallow a giggle, somehow turning it into a sob.
“It’s okay. I forgive you.” Taria gestured, arms spread wide in anticipation of a hug.
“Did you kill my father?” Elana asked.
“What?”
“My father. Did you kill him?”
Taria faltered. “You must understand, darling, he was weak and sickly. It had to be done.”
“You <i>bitch!”</i> Elana’s voice gave out halfway through her scream. “Murderer! Why would I ever ask you to come back?! Now, rebel!”
“What?” Taria turned, but David was up like a shot, naked blade already in hand. With the blood and mud on his face, he looked like a demon straight out of hell, complete with the fire in his brown eyes. With one swipe he plunged the sword deep into the ex-queen’s chest, its bloodied point protruding from the back of her dress. David kicked Taria’s corpse off his blade, but a hard fist closed around Elana’s arm and yanked her against an armored chest. A cold line bit into her windpipe as Luim pressed a knife against her neck.
“Drop the sword, traitor, or the blood of more than one royal will stain this field.”
David hesitated, his mouth agape, but Elana thought quickly. After the invasion of the Astaleze castle, her personal guard Aldien had taken it upon himself to teach her basic defensive tricks. She’d nearly broken his nose for his efforts, but the move worked.
She threw her head back, and it met Luim’s face with a crunch. The deposed captain of the guard let go and reeled to clutch his nose, but she had fallen free, and David lurched to meet his new opponent. He struck down Luim with a sweep of his sword, then paused to shed the ragged shirt he wore. Sweat gleamed on his skin, highlighting the scars on his form, and he spat on Luim’s chestplate. “Can’t be a traitor if I’m a king, you son of a bitch.”
“Trust me, rebel, you can.” Elana eyed Taria.
“Well then that makes me a king of traitors, huh?” David turned to her. He still looked like hell, barefoot, covered in mud and blood, with the remains of bruises yellowing his right shoulder. The sword in his hand dripped blood onto the grass by Luim’s body.
This was David of Cerces. Rebel leader. Gladiator. The man who Taria had thrown into her bedroom months prior. Who couldn’t do up the buttons on his shirt to save his life.
“Dave! Highness!” Samuel wheeled his horse around beside them, tearing up grass as he struggled to control the stallion. “It’s starting. We need to move now.” He pointed over David’s head toward the city. A small army was spilling out of the empty streets and pooling at the edge of the field.
David set his jaw. “I’m fine. Take Elana.”
Samuel nodded and offered Elana a hand onto the horse, but she swatted it away. “What? But all you have is a sword!”
“It’s more than I usually have,” he replied, turning to face the gathering army. “Samuel, please.”
“He’s right, Highness,” Samuel began. “Listen—”
An arrow landed deep in the grass between the three of them.
“Fuck!” David looked up, eyes ablaze. “Sam, get her out of here!”
“Yessir!”
Elana squealed as Samuel snatched her up by the waist and threw her unceremoniously against the horn of the horse’s saddle. It dug into her side painfully as he galloped back to camp, and she just caught the sight of David leaping onto a soldier, blade wide in an overhead swing.
A gladiator.
A warrior.
She struggled to stay on her feet as Samuel set her back down. “Sam, what the hell?!”
“An order’s an order, Highness.” He gestured at a nearby servant.
“If he dies out there, you better hope you do too!”
“I know.” Samuel caught the longsword the servant tossed to him and tested it. “I also know he’s not going to die. Kid’s like a roach.” He spun toward the field. “Just trust us. We know what we’re doing. Stay safe, Elana.” With a roar, he charged back onto the field, sword raised. Just as magnificent as David.
The Astaleze army followed him.
She screamed, but the sound was lost to the clatter of weapons and armor. All she could do was watch as the field exploded into open battle.
The fighting continued through the afternoon and even as dusk fell Elana could still hear the clash of metal on metal through the walls of her tent. She’d grown tired of watching the endless battle and retired back to her makeshift quarters, sitting on the wooden bed she and David had shared for the past week. She had even left a myola leaf on the bedside table, ready for whatever escapades they would get up to that night.
If he didn’t walk off that field, she wouldn’t know what to do.
“Princess?”
“David!” Elana shot to her feet as he pushed his way into the tent. He was soaking wet, with water streaming off his overgrown bangs, down his chest, and into the waistline of his pants. A few streaks of mud were left behind from his hurried bath, and he left wet footprints on her canvas carpet as he stepped closer.
He hesitated, wide-eyed as he noticed the look on her face. “I’m okay, I promise. I just—”
“You dumbass!” Her voice broke. “What were you thinking?”
“That I could handle it,” he replied. “And we did. Sam and Cilen are both okay, too.”
“How?”
“Believe it or not, they didn’t have much of an army.” David pulled her against his chest. It was cold and clammy, but Elana felt his heart beating under his scarred skin and reveled in it.
“So why is there still fighting, then?”
“It’s not much of an army, but they sure are stubborn.” He chuckled. “Kind of reminds me of you.” She looked up, expression venomous, and he backpedaled. “They just don’t give up, you know?”
“You’re such an idiot,” she repeated. “And what, did you just go jump in a river?”
“I might have.” He looked down. “I looked awful.”
“You did, but you’re freezing cold.”
“I am,” he agreed. “Princess, it’s been a long day.”
“Of course, rebel. Come here.”
He staggered toward her, and she met him with a towel in hand, draping it over his shoulders. He sighed and fell against her. She’d dealt with his dead weight many times, and dragged him onto the bed alongside her with relative ease. His breath came warm and soft against her throat, and despite its chill, she pressed her cheek against his wet hair.
***
David woke in the Astaleze castle, in Elana’s chambers. He started, wide-eyed. Yet another dream; it had to be. His entire body ached, heavy with exhaustion, and his bad shoulder throbbed with that too-familiar ache. He must’ve just been dragged out of another gladiator fight that hadn’t gone his way. Any moment his princess would walk through the bedroom doors, wearing a beautiful ball dress or— even better— nothing.
His hair felt clean, though. And though he was bare-chested and barefoot, his pants weren’t the burlap rags he’d gotten used to but rather the soft, tailored ones he was given in the castle. Too much detail.
It wasn’t a dream.
He leaped off the bed and raced for the door, only for his ankle to wrench a few feet from the doorway. He took a painful spill, and as he cursed, clutching his left foot, he looked back. Somehow he’d missed the rattle of the chain binding him to the canopy bed’s left foot post, its silver links running up to the fur-lined shackle on his ankle. He cursed again and reached for the clip that would free him, only to discover that a padlock had replaced it.
He stared at it, wide-eyed, then fumbled with the silver chain around his neck. There was a pendant hanging from it, the key to his anklet. He would just pop it off for a moment, hunt down Elana, wherever she was in the castle—
The key was gone.
“Fuck.” He hung his head. Barefoot, bare-chested, and chained to Elana’s bed?
She’d recreated his prison, the way he was bound when they first met.
The door swung open behind him with a creak. He rolled over to find Elana in an elegant dress, wearing, of all things, a jeweled tiara on her black waves. She was a princess, she should be wearing a tiara, but it struck him as odd.
She smiled. “You’re awake.”
“P-princess—”
“Before you say anything, you didn’t miss much.” She pulled the tiara off her head, upending her styled hair, and tossed it onto the wooden vanity. “Just the most pointless coronation ceremony in history. ‘The queen is dead, long live the queen.’” She scoffed. “Step-queen. That bitch was never part of the royal line. And don’t worry. I made sure everyone knows you have as much power as I do.” She bent over to poke his nose; he still squatted on his hands and knees on the wooden floor, dumbstruck. “Guess I’m queen now. But you can always call me princess. Prefer it, really.” She scrunched up her nose. “I don’t want Taria’s title.”
“O-of course, Princess.” David shook his head. “But if I can ask—”
“Figured it out?” She winked at him. “A little rumor got around that King David of Cerces was hurt in battle. Nothing serious, but he’s not going to be in the public eye for at least a week. Maybe longer.” She knelt, bringing his chin up to meet her gaze. “Now, a rebel is going to be punished as a traitor should be.”
He swallowed. “Princess—”
“Only Aldien, Sam, and Cilen know about this,” she continued with a giggle. “And I know they’ll keep their mouths shut.”
He paled.
“Maybe this will make you think twice about running off again.” She forced him to his feet by the chin and pushed him to the plush armchair by the room’s closet… the one with stocks at its feet and furry manacles running over its back.
“No.” He shook his head, but knew better than to fight back. “No!”
She ignored him, instead shoving him into the chair with one hand. He landed hard, winded, and gasped as she forced his arms up and into the cuffs over his head. He closed his eyes as she flipped open the stocks, lugged his legs into the holes, and snapped it closed. She tied the belt snuggly around his waist, then pecked him on the cheek. “Don’t look so betrayed, rebel. It’s not like this is anything new.”
“Elana…” his words trailed off as she tied his toes back to the stocks. The chair had been made to fit him; no amount of kicking could so much as budge his soles. He was stuck.
She looked up, a flash of concern lighting up her blue eyes. “Something wrong?”
His mouth worked, but nothing valid came to mind. He closed his jaw, reddening, and instead shook his head.
“Good.” The devious smile crossed her face once more, and she straddled his waist, the frills of her dress falling over his stomach and thighs. “So maybe you’ve learned your lesson about running off in the middle of the night.” She kissed him deeply.
David closed his eyes and leaned in, lulled by her siren song, but hesitated. She wanted something, and he wasn’t giving it to her.
He ripped away and scowled. “I haven’t learned shit. Don’t touch me, you royal bitch.”
Elana stared, stunned by his vulgarity, then grinned. “Very well, traitor, even if you say you’re royal too. Let’s see how long it takes to make you cry like one.” She made a big show of adjusting her weight on his lap, rubbing her pussy on his crotch. “And I should get out of this miserable thing, anyway.”
With one move, she pulled off her dress, leaving her straddling his waist, nude. Drool threatened to spill from David’s lips, and he swallowed nervously. She leaned in, and he couldn’t help but focus on the way her sizable breasts brushed up against his chest, her nipples settling just under his collarbones as she pressed her forehead to his. “David of Cerces, do you submit your reign to the crown of Astal?”
He swallowed again and managed to keep a straight face even though his cock strained against his pants, kissed by her pussy. “Fuck no.”
“Okay.” She chuckled, waving her sharp, painted fingernails under his nose. “Had these done for the coronation. Like them?”
He frowned and looked away, lips twitching as he forced the expression. “I don’t care.”
She cocked her head, digging around in a wooden crate lying beside the chair. “You don’t? Then you should be just fine with this.”
David gasped as she wrapped the blindfold around his eyes, this one soft, form-fitting, and pitch black, unlike the gray rag they’d used before. Not a bit of light entered; he’d been thrown into complete darkness.
Darkness, like his cage in the gladiator circuits after the guards put out the torches. Like that room he’d met Taria and Luim in, where he was almost sentenced to death in. Like—
Elana pressed a hand to his heaving chest, feeling his heartbeat jumping erratically. “Rebel? Are you okay?”
“I-I’m— I’m fine! It takes more than this to break me!”
“If you’re sure, rebel.” She chuckled, breaking character for a moment. “Remember, if anything’s too much, just tell me and I’ll stop. Your mind still needs to heal.” Her voice rose in pitch and she put on an accent that vaguely sounded like Taria’s. “Because I shall break you and end the Cerces rebellion right here!”
Her weight left his lap, and he whipped his head back and forth, trying to pick up on her footsteps. No luck; she’d moved the chair just enough so that it lay almost entirely on the plush rug between her wardrobe and bed. He’d only be able to find her if she spoke again.
Or if her manicured nails scraped savagely against the left side of his chest. His howl gave way to a squeal as one nicked his nipple. Elana giggled and traced his pink areola as David shook his head, hoping against hope that he could somehow knock the blindfold off and at least see his tormentress.
She ran her nails down the sides of his neck, making him grimace and try to somehow pull away. She giggled at his expression and continued to trace a path across his collarbones, and he went rigid as she tapped the pads of her fingers in the hollows of his armpits.
“I always thought this was so cute. You can’t grow a lick of hair anywhere else. Just this tiny bit right here.” She toyed with the tuft of blonde hair in his pit.
He snickered.
“Really, rebel? You’re that sensitive? I’m not even touching you. Just your tiny bit of body hair.”
“I… I shave!<i> Stahahahap!”</i>
“Just your chin. Brave king can’t grow a chest hair.”
David snarled, but broke down in giggles as she kept playing with the hair in his armpits.
“Getting worked up, rebel? Give up yet?”
<i>“Nehehehehever!”</i>
“Okay. It’s going to get a whole lot worse!” she said with a laugh. Her nails pushed through his armpit hair and touched the soft skin underneath, making him arch his back with a howl.
<i>“NohoHOHOHO!”</i>
She giggled again, tracing swirls and patterns in the hollows of his pits, drifting her nails up his upper arms and down his ribs every other moment. David’s eyes rolled back, and as he gasped for air, Elana pulled away. “Are you okay?”
“Fine,” he grunted. “Do your worst.”
She wrapped her hand around his throat, just enough that he could feel her nails under his ears. “Good. Because the next time I’ll stop, you’ll either be unconscious or a traitor to your own <i>fake</i> kingdom.”
She was playing her part well. She almost sounded like Luim.
Luim.
“David, you’re hyperventilating. If you’re not okay with it, don’t pretend to be for my sake.”
“Not everything’s about you!” he snapped, and Elana pulled back. “I… I’m sorry, Princess, but this is something I have to work through.” Elana wasn’t Luim. She wasn’t Taria, and she wasn’t some faceless Amazonian gladiator. She was his princess. He was safe with her. She was just playing a role. Pretending. Like how she’d been in those first few days she’d met him. Both Taria and Luim had died on his own blade. They would never hurt him again. They would never hurt her again. “Please. I don’t need you to go easy. But if you can… go slow. Please?”
“Of course.” She kissed him.
“Thanks.” He puffed up his chest. “And yeah, I’m a traitor. I’m proud to be a traitor, and so is my kingdom. I am the <i>king</i> of traitors!”
“Yes you are, my king.” Elana chuckled. “But I’m not going to take that for an answer!” she declared. “Submit your reign!”
“Never!”
“Then prove you’re worthy.” She straddled his lap again, and his dick strained against his pants, feeling her warmth. He gasped as she tweaked his nipples, then slowly dragged her nails down his chest, circling the soft scar covering his left side. She’d glance it with one finger from time to time, and he’d go taut like a bowstring and let out a low grunt. She smiled, daring to go further and further across his ticklish skin. She crept her nails up until she brushed the second scar stretching across his shoulders. David howled, struggling and failing to protect his sensitive, long ruined skin.
“I have,” David panted. “I’ve spent… my entire life… proving it.”
Elana’s eyes went wide at the look on his face. David wasn’t just a gladiator. He was an <i>escaped</i> gladiator, one who spent six months of his life on the run, whipping up a rebellion and defeating the tortures of the darkest dungeons in all of Astal. The scars on his arms weren’t from fights. They were from being jabbed with red-hot knives in the dungeon of Dalle. His expression wasn’t just feral; it was as steady and unbreaking as concrete, even with his cheeks red and chest heaving.
“All right, too much.” Elana stood, flipped open the stocks, and undid the manacles holding his arms over his head. She spun away to investigate her closet as David examined his wrists. “I had a tailor put together a wardrobe for you. I’m not sure if you want to show off your scars or not, so we have clothes that do bo— ah!”
David tackled her to the plush carpet, pinning her wrists above her head with one hand.
“I… need you… right now.” He kissed her. “Always.”
Elana laughed as he nipped her earlobe and sucked the skin on her collarbone. “Gods, rebel, you scared me! And of course.” She squirmed one hand free and undid the button on his pants, letting his drooling member pop free. David gasped, pulling back, then aligned himself and rammed into her hilt-deep, until his balls smacked the surface of her perfect ass. Elana grunted, a keening whine.
It snapped David out of it for a second. “Did I hurt you?”
“No.” She gripped his shoulder with one hand and balled another in his shaggy blonde hair. “I just forgot how big you were. You’re perfect, rebel.”
David grinned, and lust clouded his eyes again. He fucked her like a rabbit in heat, and Elana writhed under him once, twice, thrice until her spasming tunnel got him off. His eyes rolled back into his head and he fell back onto the carpet, a few dribbles of white still spilling onto his chest. Elana crawled up next to him as he heaved, a mix of their juices dripping down her thighs. “I didn’t kill you, did I, rebel?”
“That was the best orgasm I’ve ever had.”
“Wanna beat that?”
He smiled at her. “In a while.”
“Okay.” She flopped down next to him and threw an arm across his chest. “I love you, David.”
He hugged her arm. As he moved, the padlocked chain around his ankle jingled and he couldn’t help but smile. “I love you, too.”
<b>THE END
Thanks for your attention once again. Hope it was a good read.
-Ash
</b>
