This story contains the following -
MM, MF, rape, anal, ntr, blood, piss, cum
If any of these things disturb you, I advise you now, please do not read. If you choose to do so anyway and are offended, please stfu about the subject matter, you were warned about it before hand.
I hope you enjoy this. I have multiple parts in this story in mind, I will write more if I get positive feedback.
The battle is long over. I am beaten, my sword knocked aside, my legs bleeding, a gash running across my arm. I do not know why I have not been slain yet. The brute is clearly more of a swordsman than I, better trained, stronger, faster. My rudimentary training was nothing compared to his artful strikes. I do not believe that I even laid my blade on him seriously.
I kneel in the dirt, waiting for a death blow. I am met with a sharp kick to my stomach. I taste the wedding meal I had consumed earlier, as I fall flat into the mud. I am lifted up by my hair, and kicked in the stomach again, and again, and again. I know not why this brute continues to prolong this: he has won, I am no match for him. Why does he not just slay me here.
He picks me up, and punches me in my tender abdomen again. I can barely voice my surrender, my voice has been beaten out of me. The brute picks me up, and wraps his arms around my throat, choking me. My undergarments become warm and heavy, as I begin to reflexively piss myself in utter fear. I am too weak, too beaten, to escape this beast's grasp, the creeping, fading, foggy blackness that envelopes me quicker than sleep.
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