Page 7 of Steel & Thunder
“O-oh.” I don’t know what to say to that. I don’t know what’s going on right now. What was all this then? What happens now? “I don’t understand. What were we supposed to be...? What are you going to do now?”
There’s a beat of silence. “Why don’t I show you?” I don’t need to see his face to hear the venom in his voice. If he’s not going to kill me, it sounds like I may wish he had.
He tosses his sword to the side, and I see it land some distance from us. When I look back up, he’s pulling his shirt off next, tossing it away as well. Shit, I can’t believe I actually almost beat this guy. He’s a hairy motherfucker, and I’m not sure Adam, myself, or any other knight back at the academy could get a body like his, even if we hit the gym every day.
He moves down, his boot no longer on my stomach. Instead, he kneels over me, and I can finally see his face clearly. Yeah, he looks none too happy right now. I probably wouldn’t be either if I found out someone was trying to kill me. But what is he doing, and why did he take off his shirt? There’s some roundness to his stomach but even that has a fuck-ton of muscle underneath it.
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small pocket knife. I thought we were only allowed one weapon? I guess it doesn’t really count, not like he used it. And just as I think that, he grabs my shirt in his other hand and uses the knife to rip it in half. The spectators around us cheer.
“What the hell!” That’s my fucking shirt! I don’t have a lot of those!
“Quiet, or I’ll gag you.” The order is delivered the way my old drill instructors used to give them, the kind not to be defied or questioned. He finishes tearing my shirt, removing it from me entirely before he drops the knife and grabs my wrists to position my hands above my head. Then, using the tatters of my now ruined shirt, he ties them together. Is he taking me back to jail? “Do not move these.”
I make no attempt to move them. He searches my face for a moment, but all he finds is confusion. “You truly have no idea what is to happen here?”
“I told you... I thought we were supposed to be trying to kill each other.” Can’t say I pictured ever having to say that to someone. This is more humiliating than I could have ever imagined.
“Hmmph. Humans.” He pauses before picking up his pocket knife again. “You really should learn to think before rushing to action.” Then he grabs my pants by the waist and rips the knife down one of the legs.
“Would you stop that!?” I need my pants! I have even less of those than shirts! “Can you just tell me what you’re doing!?”
“Taking my prize for winning.” His expression changes from anger to hunger. What? He then rips through my other pant leg, the crowd erupting as he yanks the torn fabric out from under me. That leaves me lying on the floor of the arena in nothing but my loincloth, hands bound above my head. Then I notice his own pants, or at least the prominent bulge sticking out from them. Oh gods, why is he... Remember when I said this was more humiliating than I could have imagined?
I’m too scared to ask if my assumptions are right. My whole body flushes red and thanks to that fucking pocket knife, it’s all on display. Everything except for the thin layer of fabric I call my underwear. Ironstorm, looking confident even when shuffling on his knees, leaves my side. When I realize it’s to move between my legs, I snap them shut in a futile attempt to keep him away.
He only smirks, grabbing my ankles and swiftly removing my shoes before taking my knees in both hands and easily parting my thighs. As he moves forward, his eyes rake down my torso before stopping on the only area I still have covered, his eyebrows quirking up in amusement. “It seems you may have figured it out.”
What is he...? Oh no. In my humiliation and fear-induced state, I didn’t notice Little David deciding to wake up and join the party. Why here? Why now?
It’s not like I’m enjoying any of this! I did not wake up today and think, “Oh boy I sure would like to get manhandled and tied up by a hot muscular half-naked orc.” I don’t even like men! Even if I did just refer to him as hot. I’ve never been with anyone, okay? And traveling in close quarters for two months with four other people doesn’t exactly give you a lot of alone time either. I’m just pent up, that’s all.
“I think I will keep these as a trophy,” Ironstorm jokes as he reaches for my underwear, apparently not intending to shred them. Instinctively, my bound hands shoot down in an attempt to hold onto my dignity, but they’re caught before they reach their target. My captor looks none too amused with my stunt. “What did I say about moving these?” he growls before slamming my wrists back into the dirt above my head, his entire body looming over mine.
“Please.” Not entirely sure what I’m asking for here. He’s practically on top of me, his arm stretched over my head as he holds me down. His underarm is as hairy as the rest of him, and the scent of his musk hits me full-on. I can even feel his erection poking against mine. “I... I’ve never...” Aaaaaand I’m turning red again. Please don’t make me say it out loud.
He looks at me curiously, but I can tell he doesn’t quite believe me. “Do not move them again,” he grumbles before moving back to his earlier position, kneeling between my thighs. He takes both my legs in his hands again, this time bringing them together, sticking them straight up and bending them over his left shoulder. Then, lifting me with one strong arm, he slips the loincloth off my ass and up my legs. You know, like when you diaper a baby.
Why can’t he just kill me?
He lays my legs down once again, spread wide and leaving me fully exposed to him and everyone else in the audience, who are once again raucous with glee at my debasement. My hands are balled into fists as I fight every urge to cover myself, too fearful of the wrath of the giant man currently ogling my naked body. It’s not like I have anything to be ashamed of. My dick is a nice seven inches when hard. It’s more the being-forced-to-do-this-in-front-of-a-bunch-of-people of it all that is getting to me.
He moves forward and uses his knees to spread my thighs farther, exposing more than just my dick. He grabs my left leg and lifts it, placing it on his shoulder. He then reaches into the pocket of his leather pants, pulling out a small glass vial. I watch suspiciously as he uncorks the top and dribbles a clear liquid onto his fingers. By the time he recorks the vial and I realize what he’s doing, his index finger is pushing into my ass.
I can’t help but hiss and squirm, half in pain and half in surprise. I can’t tell how much he’s got in me, but it feels like a lot, and I know his hands are fucking huge. My eyes water as I futilely try to push him out, but he only pushes farther inside in response.
Fuckfuckfuckfuck. I’ve never done anything like this before. Maybe I’ve thought about it once or twice, but I’ve never actually had something in my ass before!
“Breathe.” My eyes snap open at the order, and I take a breath as requested. I didn’t realize I was holding it. That’s the only bit of kindness I get though, as he continues to drive his large green digit in and out of my hole. I try to focus on breathing, but it’s difficult, especially after he adds finger number two. My eyes scrunch up in pain, and I turn my head to whine into my arm, earning me a small chuckle from above. It’s about the only thing I can do. His free arm is wrapped around my leg, holding it tightly to his chest.
The initial entry may have been fast, but now that he’s in, he seems perfectly happy to take his time. His fingers stretch me as they slide in and out of my body, sometimes in sync, sometimes in a rhythm, and when he scissors them apart, it feels like I’m at my limit, like I might split in two. And once or twice he does this thing where he hooks his fingers upward and has me arching off the ground.
I’m not entirely sure when this switched from pain to pleasure, but now instead of fighting to push him out, I have to fight myself not to start pushing back on him. Especially when he hits that one spot. I don’t even realize it’s me making the noise when I start hearing the whimpering and moaning. I try to use my arm to muffle myself, but I know he’s already heard me. Not to mention my dick, which wilted slightly after the first intrusion, and has stiffened back up to full hardness. Traitor.
More gently than I would have expected, Ironstorm pulls his fingers from my hole, chuckling when I whimper at their loss. It just feels weird, okay? I guess I haven’t really considered the next logical step in all this, only realizing when he stands and begins undoing his pants what comes next. Panicking, I look at the entrance I came through, hoping for a chance to escape. But no, the gates have already been shut. Would I have even made it that far if they weren’t?
When I look back up, he’s once again towering over me, only this time he’s fully naked. The sun once again blocks the details of his features, but his outline is clear. His cock is massive and as green as the rest of him. Even at my decent size, I’d probably develop a complex growing up next to that. He’s got the vial out again, pouring more of the viscous liquid into his hand before discarding it with his pants. I’m mesmerized as he runs his slick hand up and down his shaft. Out of fear!
He kneels back down between my legs, and I shiver when his skin touches mine. The closer he gets, the more my anxiety grows, and when he lifts one and then the other of my legs to his shoulders, my body starts to quake. When he’s this close, I can read the desire on his face. This is really happening. He’s really going to do this.
