Legends of Belariath


Rapscallion Thoughts - Leather

*this poem was written by the young seductress one night after a rather interesting encounter with a barbarian tracker from the southern reaches of the second continent. being that he was from the colder mountain ranges, his thoughts on what was “foreplay “ was far different than anything she had experienced previously. now, she knows there is a whole breed of man (and woman, in fact) that appreciate treating another in this fashion... and she likes it. a little too much, if you ask her closest allies...*

he comes to me
covered in furs
soaked in the sweat of his labors
from the cold outdoors
into the warmth of my lair
which for now is a small room
large enough to move in
but far too small to escape his grip

his smile is frozen like his heart
no love does he bear for me
instead does malice rule his thoughts
and cruelty directs his movements
not once will he think of my pleasure
only his own
and the screams of terror i may produce
if I am not whimpering in pain
or pleading for succor
which shall no doubt go unanswered
or be replied to will callous torment

my arms does he first reach
then to my lips can he feel
but not with his mouth or tongue
for my skin is not good enough for him
not yet tenderized
not yet seasoned to his taste
strong hands pull me to him
gripping my wrists in painful vice
knowing how my flesh bruises with passion
and as my first gasp is heard
does the fire of his soul finally spark

his strength is far greater than mine
am i unable to resist him
a slave to his to predations
for under his furs lies a body of stone
made flesh only by the fury of his will
the furs hid the straps he uses to bind his catches
and this night am I his
not only his catch
but also his favor and toy

one wrist then another are bound up
tied with thongs of blackened buckskin
with that do I know am I caught
for soon is my tail also tied down
stakes in the floor around it
then knots and long strips prevent my movement
only gestures I make are weeping or writhing
all of them music to his eyes

my breasts are his to touch and fondle
groping them with hands more suited to crush
his fingertips flick and pinch my nipples
making them harder than diamonds
his grip on my globes of pleasure fierce
slowly increasing my pain
until once more does my voice ring out
although none shall come to my aid
could my heart know joy from this treatment
for as my limits are reached
does my little heart pound furiously in my chest

blood surges through my body
heightening the stress and fear
undoubtedly can he smell it in my aura
as more of the furs are removed
and long whip of corded yak leather emerges
made with five branches with handle of horn
crafted by the barbarian himself
each one of those long and winding roads
all ending on my flesh and bone
for do they descend towards my beauty
in order to streak paler flesh red and blue
not ever piercing to make me bleed
but inside do I feel the violation
just as if cold steel had sunk into my heart

can now i see my predicament
for the chain has come out
from yet another fur I did not see before
moreover was not allowed to notice
and does this frighten me
for it is slender and dexterous
much like my fingertips would be
yet somehow has he placed within it ivory
making it more weapon than jewelry
and this is by far as long as the whip
which does he still cascade my body with
from the base of my neck
down like a winding road to my tail
and along the tail does the chain strike
so harsh is it I feel it through my scales
such must be its design

now is the pain most acute
especially as when I move to evade
does my form know only bondage
my muscles twist and moan in protest
only exciting him more as my tears come down
his loincloth now used to tie up my thumbs
a final punishment before his satiation
as now his shaft stands before me

my thirst for anything not of pain
overwhelming what remains of my will
making my heart weep for his touch
my throat and lips moving to taste him
to know his maleness intimately
and give to him what he may claim of me
which is all that I am
for does he have the right
as i am nothing but his toy for this night
his whore and slut
his well of which to drink ambrosia

my tongue slips onto his shaft
not by fear or accident
but a truly diabolic hunger
brought forth from his torture of me
my need for his pikestaff absolute
as was his intent all along
my sinuous form only for him
his hands gripping my hair
forcing my head forward to engulf him
as if i would not naturally
but i am a slave to his power
just as he demands of me
my nose breathes in his scent
instantly entranced by his aroma
though would i prefer to be free
able to touch him all over
am i not worthy of that privilege
until to him do I surrender forever

my form is covered in welts
sweat pouring down my brow
even as his long pole of his masculinity
penetrates my lips and hammers my throat
his growls of enjoyment warm my blood
even as his grip shifts to my shoulders
giving me more control over my direction
yet far less over my body
until his juices coat my face
his sticky nectars my reward
but still does his hunger rage

to my center of lust does he go next
impaling me with his sloppy spear of torment
forcing me to acknowledge his superiority
I am helpless before his onslaught
would this be rape had I not fended for him
even so does he wound me with his words
ever demeaning me for my Sithian self
yet can I not fault him for his hate
for even as he despises me
can he not help but desire me
as proven by his relentless thrusting
his arcing back as he takes my channel of love
his hot breath against my throat
and his strangled cry of ecstasy

releasing himself deep within me
does he now cut away the thongs
smiling as his slaps my raw behind
his words echo my thoughts
as he whispers into my ear
he will return in a week
to give me more of what I so blatantly crave
and even though my tears stain my visage
can I do naught but nod in agreement...
for he is right