“Protection Fee”
The price for ‘protection’ can be rather expensive… Especially when there are ditzy young maidens around.
Warning: contains scenes of violence, noncon, and blood. Viewers discretion is advised.
Young enough to be so blissfully, painfully naïve. More than old enough to know better, regardless. You weren’t unlike the flowers that you picked in the meadow, down the creek and off the beaten path from your village.
Pretty
Delicate
Pure
Just whimsy, bouncing in the breeze in a similar manner to the petals that you plucked in between your fingers. He had watched you leave the village, against your father’s wishes and warnings. Following skirt tails was what mercenaries do, and yours was no exception to the mercenary leader, Silent Dhern, and his loyal followers.
They were a stark contrast to you:
Repulsive
Coarse
Tainted
Fear tingled down your spine as they all looked at you. From behind hoods, helmets, wild eyes and a manic smile. A gesture was shared between them, from head to tail. The body moved by itself, autonomous, without need of any further direction.
“N-No… No-!”
First you cowered, clutching your precious little flowers to your chest. Then you bolted, casting them aside without a second thought. The largest of the men grabbed you by the shoulder’s, unshaken and uncaring of your kicking and screaming. One of them grabbed at your ankles, pulling at your legs and pulling your skirts up towards your waist.
“Looks sweet, sounds sweet…” A long pause as he buries his face in between your spasming knees.
“…smells sweet… Wonder if she feels sweet, too…” A flustered cackle raised to the back of his throat. Your blood freezes in your veins.
“N-No-! Don’t-! Please-!”
They didn’t listen to a word you said, didn’t mind your flailing limbs, merely pushing them out of the way, holding them down as fabric was ripped with bare hands. You screamed at the top of your lungs, but the hands on your body only tightened and laughter became louder as your legs were forced wide apart.
Who was supposed to watch the watchmen?
There were supposed to ‘protect’ your village, from outsiders. They kept you all inside, instead. From brigands, looters, razors, rapists. But that’s exactly what they were.
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You weren’t the first, not even in your village. You wouldn’t be the last, either. Tears stained your face, your cheeks flushed deep red as you breathlessly begged them all to stop. Please! He doesn’t have much, but father will give them anything- ANYTHING- for your purity! PLEASE-! Your torn skirts were tossed upwards, onto your waist. You felt bare air on your nethers, the grass and dirt. Hot, rough hands pulled your thighs apart. The muscles of your stomach clenched and your eyes widened as you realized oh God, this is really happening. To you. To you. You will be raped. Your chastity is being stolen. You’ll never be able to marry or-
“OW! OW-! OW-!”
Something down there was breaking! It was entering- It was entering you! Something too big, too thick, too hard and hot was pushing into you and it hurts! It hurts so badly that you feel like you’re dying! Your own screams are suffocated by your spasming diaphragm. Spittle collects in your mouth and you nearly drown in it as your hips are grabbed and forcibly pulled downwards onto the object spearing inside of your innocence.
Every movement of the mercenary’s hips are agonizing to you. It burns. A sharp pinch deep in your belly sends your back arching and your limbs flailing, still held in place by the guards that held you down against your will. A cry of pain dies in your throat as a hand wraps around your throat, squeezing so tightly that something pops and your eyes bulge from the intense pressure.
It hurts!
You can’t breathe!
IT HURTS!
Choked screams and sobs escape from your lips, shrill but wringed. Strangled. Your body tenses, arches, tenses, arches again. You squirm. Clench and unclench your fingers, your toes. It’s so- so deep that something inside of you jolts. It feels- feels… You don’t know. You don’t know if you are glad he’s suddenly stilled. Your ankles are released and you lay there, arms still pinned above your head. The mercenary’s grip on your throat loosens for a moment then tightens again as he started to move once again.
No… No- No- You can’t-!
YOU CAN’T-!
“N-Nooooo… Nooooo…! W-WAAAAAA-!”
CRUNCH!
There’s a pain… somewhere, perhaps in your face? Behind your eyes? Your nose? Your back is still drawn tightly, like a bowstring, but your limbs fall limp. Your eyelashes flutter, breaths coming out in short, constricted wheezes then not at all as the pressure on your pulse increases drastically.
…it’s probably a bad dream, right?
All maidens have nightmares like this.
It’s only natural…
Everything hurts, but underneath the numbing, burning pain, there was that jolt that coursed through your body every now and then. It made your toes curl, your eyes flutter and your body shiver with anticipation. Blood seeped from your broken nose, obstructing your breathing. The mercenary leader had released your throat once you became compliant and instead shifted you onto your stomach, pulling your hips into the air as he reentered you. You didn’t even feel him leave… You blink lazily, only the corner of your mouth twitching as something hideous and naked came towards your partially agape mouth.
“Open that sweet little mouth of yours, precious!~”
You didn’t want it, but you also didn’t attempt to fight it, either. It entered your mouth, stinking and bitter, gagging you as it reached the back of your throat in a single, jerky thrust. You couldn’t quite keep your eyes close, but nonetheless they couldn’t focus on one single thing. The world shifted and shook, darkening as an abdomen stole your sight every time your now crooked nose was forced flush against it.
“GLUG… URGH… M-MMPFH…”
Both places, you were being violated. Over and over again. It feels like nothing. You want to die. You are scared… When can you go home? Will it have to be in this state? So clearly defiled and used…? The flowers had all been crushed. Trampled. Stained with bodily fluids, some your own, others… not. The blood as long since dried up, smeared away and quelled as you were a little maiden no more, but a woman.
Who would even want to look upon a petal-less flower, let alone pluck it for oneself?
