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Ravenloft: Adam: Is this...Love?	By : Manofevil Category: M through R > Ravenloft Views: 1279 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the book(s) that this fanfiction is written for, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 5
- 6
Inga stepped back inside, closed and barred the door, and sank to the floor with her back to it. Heavens, she was sounding just like her mother used to when she shuffled her father out the door to work. When she got up yesterday morning, she was just a much used tavern whore who barely knew where her next meal would come from. She also woke up between two of her brothers and remembered well what they had for her to eat and drink. She swallowed as her stomach turned. She wondered what Adam would think of her if he knew about it. She began to weep. She often did when she was alone. She was a filthy tavern whore used and used and used by whoever could get their hands on her. She’d been poked and poked until she couldn’t stand straight and made to do such … twisted things over and over and over again, usually by her brothers, and then they would beat her, beat her until she bled. They enjoyed hearing her scream and cry. They were so mean and cruel and horrible that she just couldn’t bear them. Nobody loved her. Not her father or her brothers or anyone… except maybe Adam. She stopped weeping as she thought of him. He was certainly nice. He hadn’t hurt her. He was kind to her. He … liked her. At least, she thought he did. She’d thought so before with other men- men who she thought would take her away from all this and give her a decent life she could live happily, but they had been all charm and lies and she had been a tavern whore. They had always left and abandoned her to her family. Her father always beat her afterwards- called her ugly and filthy. He said that if she wasn’t such a strumpet, she might catch a husband-then she wouldn’t be another mouth for him to feed. Inga began to weep again, just as she did when her father beat her.
Inga heard a bubbling sound and realized that the snow in the kettle over the fire had melted and boiled. She wiped her eyes and walked to the fire. She wrapped her hands in her cloak and lifted the kettle off the fire. She poured the boiling water over the snow and watched it melt. She then filled the kettle with snow and placed it back on the fire. She took off her cloak, hung it up, and stood next to the fireplace.
She was still in her low mood. She rubbed her bottom as she remembered her father’s beatings. He could be so cruel. He always beat her naked bottom with his belt. Sometimes, he would stop in the middle, open his trousers, and poke her right there. She always dreaded this because he would then always curse her for a whore even louder and beat her even more harshly. She began weeping again as she continued to rub her bottom in remembered pain. Not for the first time, she wondered what she had ever done to make her father hate her so. She’d always done her chores faithfully and given any money she’d earned to him, yet still he hated her. He beat her when she earned money whoring and he beat her when she failed to bring in money. She just couldn’t please him. He was always angry at her. A terrible thought made her weep even harder- What would her father do when he found out about Adam? She sank to the floor, pulled her knees up to her chest, and rocked back and forth on her bottom as she thought about it. Her father would surely try to kill Adam, but Adam was the monster of the ice- many had tried to kill him before and failed, but what if Adam had to kill her father? Her father could be strangely possessive of her. He’d scared or driven off more than one of her beaus in the past.
She heard the kettle bubbling again and realized it was time to empty it. She emptied the boiling water into the tub again and filled it with snow and set it back on the fire. Adam had been clever enough to put the tub close to the fire. The snow was melting fairly quickly. She’d have a pretty good bath in a short while. Her hand wandered to her midsection where she touched her and Adam’s dried juices. Was her father right about her? Was she just an insatiable strumpet who never tired of men’s juices? She’d certainly acquired a taste for them, that was certain, but there were plenty of times when she didn’t enjoy it, too, times when she just didn’t feel like smiling at them when they came for her, times when she wanted to run out a door or window and never stop running from them, times when she felt so terribly… trapped, as she had last night when she’d woken up in this room. She didn’t feel trapped with Adam. If anything, she felt freer with him than she ever had with anyone before.
She had no idea how long it took her to fill the tub. Idle work like this was always hard on her- especially when she was by herself. Everything she suffered seemed to come back on her like a windstorm. It’s the reason why she didn’t really like being alone for long periods of time. Still she managed to get the snow in the tub melted. Between the boiling water and the melting snow, the bath reached just the right temperature. She might enjoy the bath if she could just put aside all her memories. She fetched the soap from the table and stepped into the bath. It always felt good when she bathed- like she could wash away everything wrong. The local bathhouse knew her well. The woman who ran it was one of her few friends. It was the only place where her father and brothers couldn’t get to her- if only for a while. She sat down in the tub and felt the warm water wash over her flesh. She always enjoyed that. The water always seemed to reach right up inside her. That was probably best considering what else got up inside her. She began to lather her hands with the soap. She wasn’t going to think about it while she was bathing. She just wasn’t. She refused to let her family consume every moment of her life. She tied her braids together above her head and began to scrub herself vigorously.
She began with her feet. They were calloused and hard but not scarred like those who were forced to go without shoes. Her father was a cobbler by trade so she and her brothers had always had good shoes and boots. Her current boots, which she found herself staring at suddenly, had been one of her father’s few gifts to her. A big man to whom her father owed money had poked her right in front of him and had made a point of hurting her as he did it. She had accepted stoically until the man had spent himself. He had taken her in her mouth, in her womb, and in her rear, and had made a point of hurting her every time. By the time he’d worked his way around to her rear, she realized that what he wanted to hear was her scream in pain. She began screaming at his every movement, she needed no subterfuge since it always hurt her to be taken there, and before long he had spent himself. She collapsed at his feet and at first had though that he had gone away, until she heard the wet smacking sound followed by her father’s deep groan that let her know he was being beaten. The big man had turned on him in spite of her compliance. Her father was old and fragile in spite of his many beatings of her. Perhaps that was the reason she crawled between them and rose to her knees to take the blows for him. The man snarled at her angrily, slapped her backhanded across the face and stalked from the room. The next day her father made those boots for her. She hadn’t thought about it until then, but he’d never added the heels on them to any other pair of shoes he had made her. People in her village called them ‘whore’s heels’. They shaped the leg up and made women seem taller and more desirable to men. Was her father condemning her even as he thanked her with a gift? Rather than dwell on this, she stood up in the tub to wash her legs.
One of the first men her father had sold her to had been very kind to her. He had even insisted on her bathing with him afterwards. He also had begun with her feet-tickling them until she giggled. Then he moved on to her legs. He had shown her places on them that had aroused her in ways she never dreamed possible. She always revisited them whenever she bathed, as she did now. She moved up past her knees to her thighs. The kind man had kissed her along the inside of her thighs and made her shiver even as her washing there did now. It was when he washed her sex and rear that she felt his tongue. She was shocked at the time but many a man had done it to her since. Even as she took a man’s member into her mouth for the first time that day. The memory of the taste of the man’s member mixed with soapy water made her mouth water, even as she fingered herself at the memory of the man’s tongue. As she did this, her other hand, holding the soap, began moving up her belly to her breasts, just as the man’s had that day so long ago. He had washed her breasts and back even as he licked her between her legs and she could only gasp and cry out and steady herself on his shoulders while her legs shivered beneath her... as they were doing now. The man had finally lifted her up and poked her right there in the bath. Inga began to spasm as she remembered his touch. As her spasms began to subside she wished Adam were there to poke her properly. As if in answer to her wishes, there was a loud knock at the door.
“Inga, I’m back!” Adam announced. Inga quickly picked up the kettle, filled it with bath water, and poured it down her front to rinse herself off. She then got out of the tub and used her cloak to dry herself then went to the door. After unbarring it, she stood carefully behind it so she wouldn't be too cold when the wind blew in. Adam came in carrying a freshly killed deer and laid it on the table in front of him. Inga shut the door behind him and barred it. Adam turned around and his eyes widened as he took in the sight before him
Inga stood there, naked, aroused, and shivering from the cold air let in with him. And she began to smile at him. Her entire body seemed to smile. Adam began to smile in return. And again, Inga saw nothing ugly in the smile.
- 5
- 6
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Ravenloft: Adam: Is this...Love?