Behind Those Eyes

BY : Athos
Category: G through L Series > Gor
Dragon prints: 6557
Disclaimer: I do not own Gor and I make no profit from this story.

The Capture

With a loud howl of triumph, Corlas of Ar led the raven-haired girl into the large clearing where his pride had made its camp. A band of seven in total, they had spent the last several weeks searching a seldom-travelled patch of forest fair from home for what, until now, had amounted to merely a preposterous rumor told in taverns by drunken farmers.

They searched for a band of outlawed kajira who had fled their rightful place at their masters’ feet and into the wilderness. A tribe of women who defied the natural order and played at being warriors. Yet even as the large muscular man forced his captive onward with a shove, he could scarcely believe that it was true.

As they walked, the girl’s lips remained closed. Instead, she spoke through the fire of defiance that burned in her amethyst eyes. Barely into womanhood to Corlas’ eye, she possessed a spirit that any warrior would be proud to own.

Upon approaching the circle of tents the tarnsman was greeted by one of his comrades, a stout but not terribly bright warrior named Stolas.

“Greetings, Corlas. I see you’ve found another for the market.” He said, eyeing the girl intently.

Nearly a full head taller, Corlas raised an eyebrow and looked down at his companion. “Another, you say?” He responded.

“Yes,” Stolas answered. “Dodric found another one, dressed in the same garb.” He motioned to the tight fitted leather tunic, studded skirt and black scabbard that, until only moments earlier, had held a sword of fine edge.

“Where is she then?” Asked Corlas when a simple glanced failed to reveal the second captive.

“Behind Dodric’s tent.” Came the answer simply.

With another forceful prod, he guided his prisoner onward without another word. A few steps further revealed that which he sought. A woman resting on her knees with her hands bound by binding fibres, which were staked to the ground. As Stolas had said, she also wore a studded skirt, but the scabbard, which was apparent on his captive, had been removed and her tunic had been cut down the front, revealing soft ivory skin and an amble bosom, which rose and fell slightly with each breath.

It was difficult for Corlas to keep from staring. It was apparent a moment from the tensing of her body that his own captive had also caught sight of the woman. She stopped short and refused to move, all the while eerily silent.

“Move!” Corlas growled, pushing the girl forward but succeeding only in driving her to the ground. The raven-haired girl threw her head back and fixed her ferocious glare on him and for a brief moment Corlas prepared to defend himself.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the older woman’s lips part in concern but neither spoke a word. He held the girl’s gaze for just a moment before hauling her back to her feet. As he came closer to the tent, one of the flaps parted and a large man exited.

Dodric of Ar was the Pride Chief of their band and a ferocious warrior and was the only man Corlas had ever truly feared. As cruel and ruthless as he was brave, all that had crossed him, and many who hadn’t, had been slain by his hand.

“You’ve found another.” He said quietly, his voice utterly devoid of emotion.

Corlas nodded as he forced the girl to the ground once more. He thought that he had heard her grunt as she’d landed, but he couldn’t be sure. Dodric stepped closer and fastened the girl’s bindings to the stake that held his prisoner.

Looking to Corlas, he spoke simply. “Cut her tunic, I wish to see her.”

Annoyance welled up inside Corlas as he moved to oblige. The sound of leather parting under his knife gave way to the sight of the gentle rolling peaks of the girl’s breasts. Little better than fourteen years old, he found himself impressed by her development. She was already a beauty, and in a few years would undoubtedly be worth a small fortune in the slave market.

Dodric stepped forward, continuing to eye the girl closely. She managed to hold his gaze with the same defiance until the moment when she felt his rough hand mead her soft flesh. For the first time she made a sound, a sudden intake of breath. Dodric was not gentle as he squeezed one breast and then the other, leaving red marks where his fingernails dug into her skin.

“Seven pieces of gold.” He said simply, casting his gaze at Corlas. “That is my offer for you to leave now and let me fuck this girl in front of her mother.”

Corlas’ gaze shirted suddenly to the older woman, her face noticeably pale as the harsh words left Dodric’s lips. Cocking his head to the side, the tarnsman spoke.

“Six pieces,” Corlas replied, lowering the price. “And I get to watch.”

Nodding his agreement, Dodric pulled a bag with the money and handed it over. Corlas couldn’t help but wonder why his leader was being so generous. He could have demanded such a right for free and none in the camp would have challenged him.

Crossing his muscular arms, Corlas watched with interest as the young girl was forced on all fours. A slight whimper escaped her lips as her skirt was jerked upward exposing a smooth, hairless center.

It didn’t bother Corlas in the least as Dodric revealed his nakedness. Years in the wilderness generally robbed men of modesty. They were as they had been made, glorious and powerful and Dodric was no different.

Finding that his gaze shifted toward the other woman, Corlas couldn’t help but smile as the girl’s whimpers turned into screams. Dodric penetrated her deeply, filling her completely with every thrust.

The tears that ran down the raven-haired beauty’s face were matched only by those that came from her mother as she watched her child be defiled.

Dodric was for the most part quiet, only occasionally grunting from the exertion. After a few minutes the girl’s screams died down to painful whimpering. Her lips quivered and her breasts swayed with the force of each impact.

When the girl was deposited on the ground a few moments later, she curled instinctively into a ball. Though she now cried, it was once more eerily without sound. Silent sobs of a pain she couldn’t fully register.

Once again fully clothed, Dodric moved toward his tent. Just as he was about to enter, he stopped and spoke.

“Corlas,” He said emotionlessly. “When you’ve finished fucking the mother, I want you to cut the girl’s throat.”

Then he was gone.

Corlas watched as his leader walked silently into the tent before turning to look at the older woman. Her deep green eyes pleaded with him and her lips parted once more.

“Take me.” She whispered. “Spare her.”

As she spoke, his eyes were drawn to the whimpering form of the girl, who was still curled up and holding her stomach, trying desperately to come to terms with her sudden and savage introduction into womanhood.

He was not a sentimental man by any stretch of the imagination. His strict warrior upbringing had not allowed for much compassion, but that did not impede his mind from thinking practically.

The girl was his prisoner, not Dodric’s and as such he would receive the bounty from selling her. If she died, he would be left with only those gold pieces that he had been awarded for the girl’s virginity and Dodric would make many times more than that by selling the mother.

Without responding, he turned away from both of the captives and took a purposeful step forward. As his sword was pulled from its sheath, another thought entered his head. If Dodric was dead, he could collect the funds from both captives.

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