Means to an End

Obligatory warning: this chapter contains sex.
I fully expect someone is reading this and snickering over my ignorance in matters virgins are typically ignorant in. "Write what you know" indeed. Pffffft.


He walked towards me in even, measured paces. I huddled on the floor, wrapping my arms around my chest and drawing my knees up close. The muscles around my pelvis clenched. Magus knelt, placing both palms on the door behind me so that his body dwarfed mine and when he titled his head down his hair cascaded across my shoulders.

“Perhaps you shouldn’t fight so much,” he said in a mild tone.

“Why must you do this?”

He looked away, genuinely considering my question, and one of his hands slipped to the back of my neck. I could feel my heart beating in my chest, like a bird.

“Come now, be honest, have you never felt pleasure at hurting someone? Never enjoyed using that stiletto against living flesh? I’m sure you understand, little Stoat, for you wouldn’t be what you are if you didn’t enjoy hurting others as much-“

That was as far as I let him get. My throat had gone dry and my thoughts had evaporated into white terror. No, I did not enjoy killing people. It was just how I lived. Nothing more. I didn’t like hurting people and –

I pushed off from the door and my shoulder hit his chest. Over he went and I followed, aiming my fist for his throat. One good punch into the right place and he wouldn’t be able to say anything else, ever. His hand closed around my wrist, pulled it to the side and my fist connected with air. I felt his knee in my stomach and braced myself to be flipped. Instead, his ankle hooked mine, tripped up what balance I had, and I found myself panting on top of him, head just below his chin and one wrist pinned in his grasp.

“Done with your violence yet?” he asked, amused.

I sat up, wrenching my hand free and holding it poised. Strangely, he didn’t move, just lay still with his back on the ground and eyes half-closed. I didn’t question it. I just hit, straight on the jaw, and his head snapped to the side and I saw blood on his lips. Every muscle in me was tense and my peripheral vision was gone. All I saw was the pale pointed ears and the cloud of blue-white hair beneath me. At that moment I wanted nothing more than to hit him again and again, beat him until I repaid all the hurt he’d done to me and then add in some of my own. See him helpless, bloodied, and crying from terror. Until his unspoken words rang through my head.

We’re the same.

Somewhere, deep inside, there was pleasure in seeing someone spilling out their lifeblood across my hands.

Oh hell.

I went limp and slid off of his chest. Scooted away and sat there, staring at my ankles and waiting for my breath to return. Magus rolled onto his side, then sat up as well, gingerly touching where my fist had hit.

“I think I’ve proven my point,” he said, grinning, “Wouldn’t you agree?”

I didn’t reply. The anger was boiling off, slowly, very slowly. I heard him stand and walk behind me. Nudged my back with a knee.

“You’ll do anything I say now, won’t you?”

I can’t explain precisely why I said yes. Why this was a truthful answer. I suppose that all along I’d been clinging to some vain hope that I was better than he, that while Magus was doing all these vile things, I still had the moral high ground. Hah. I was worse than him in the end, for I never admitted that what I did was wrong.

“Good. Come to me tonight.”

And of course, I complied.



It was dark in the room and I could see subtle hints that sent shivers of memory across my mind’s eye. Slipping in through the window. Knife in hand. Heart pounding, not from fear I knew now, but from the possibility that I would kill in the next few seconds. I swallowed hard. Shook my head to banish them. Magus was somewhere in the room. I was trying not to think about what was happening around me.

Hands on my shoulders, sliding down along the skin to trace along the collarbone. Slipped under the hem of my top, along the swell of my breasts. My hands were shaking badly but I hooked my thumbs into the top of my skirt and slid it down and away, leaving my bottom half bare in the moonlight. Magus pulled away my top and I remained strangely still, as if in a trance.

He didn’t say anything, no gloating, no laughter this time, just put his head down so I felt his breath across my neck and then his lips against my chin. A soft kiss that turned into a nip and my hands went to my thighs at the touch of his teeth. His hands encircled my waist and pulled me close to him, back against his bare chest. I could feel his erection against the small of my back and I pressed myself against him, heard him hiss softly in response.

This wasn’t love. Don’t even think for a moment that it was love. It was sex, pure physical release from whatever tormented him. And for me, it was surrender, plain and simple, an acknowledgement that I had no more strength left to fight. Nothing left to lose in this. He’d stripped away my physical strength, overpowered my magical resistance, taken away my dignity through rape, invaded the privacy of my thoughts, and finally stripped away my own illusions. What was left? Nothing at all.

I don’t quite remember everything that happened. Somehow I found myself on the bed and he had my wrists pinned, cloth wrapped around them and to the posts of the bed. My ankles he left free and I twisted under him, growling low in my throat. My nipples were hard and I could feel the space between my legs throbbing. His hands were moving across me; light as a feather and I shuddered as each touch caressed a point – my neck, my breasts, my thighs. His hair too, long enough to touch my skin, would trail across my belly and shoulders. It was like I’d been turned into a bundle of nerves and each touch sent desire trembling across my small frame. I arced my back and thrust my hips towards his; crying, and still he didn’t do anything. Just leaned over my head, nibbled on my ear, then switched to my shoulder and bit down, hard. Drew blood. I cried out. He raised up, backhanded me across the cheek.

“Bastard,” I swore and strained with the bonds. There was sweat on my body. Somewhere, the line between pain and pleasure had evaporated, and when his nails raked down my chest I didn’t steel myself against the sensation as I once had, but panted and felt the muscles in my opening convulse. He straddled me and lowered his body towards mine. I whimpered and spread my legs, but still he waited. I felt his cock touch my groin, then slide up onto my belly, up and down, until it was slick and I was near wild with want. It was like I was drowning, lungs filled with water, limbs unable to move, and all I could do was float there helpless and waiting for it to end but begging it to last forever. Indeed, I was pleading between my whines and moans.

He slowed and his member slipped between my legs. I cried out, sharply, and lifted myself up to him. Wrapped my legs around his waist. The tip of his erection touched my clitoris.

“Stop it,” I moaned, “Just…”

He pulled away.

“No..! Stop teasing me!”

He penetrated me, just a small bit and I tried to take him in further but the bindings on my wrists were taunt.

“You seemed to be enjoying it,” he murmured and there was that amused tone again. I gritted my teeth and wished I were free so I could rip those damn pointy ears off his smug head.

“I’d enjoy it more if you were inside me!”

He thrust his full length into me, slowly, a bit at a time. I cried out and clenched myself around him, burning relief spreading though me as the feel of hardness. For each little inch he slid inside me I begged for more. I was begging him, me, begging, like any whore.

“Do it, please, oh please”

A moan from him, predatory in nature, and he moved. Fully inside me and oh, it hurt, but I didn’t care. In and out, slowly, and I moved my hips with his, rocking my head back and forth as my breath came faster and faster. He sped up until it was like he was tearing into me and all I could do was lie there and cry out, anguished sounds that had no real undertone of pain.

I can’t remember everything. He freed my hands at some point and I pulled myself closer to him, my own nails digging into his shoulders. The room around us had seemed to vanish and all that mattered was the sensation of his cock as it dragged my skin along with its movements. I came and felt liquid on my inner thigh. Still he didn’t stop, just moved even harder, until I could only hang onto the sides of the bed and with each thrust cry out. I came again. He slowly, delicately, pulled out of me with a moan and I lay limp, throbbing and making small sounds in the back of my throat.

I found myself lying on my stomach across the width of the bed, my legs hanging off the end. He’d hit me a couple times, across the ass, on the muscle of my thighs, and grabbed me by the arm so tight I hit him in return to make him let go. He hadn’t. Just thrown me on my stomach and spread my legs. I massaged my breasts and listened to my own fast breathing, like some cornered feral animal.

I felt his cock lightly brush my opening again. This time he didn’t tease me, just drove himself in and I ground my pelvis into the bed beneath me, making half-cries as that was all my breath would allow. He put his hands in the fold between pelvis and leg, holding me to him, and started pounding himself into me. I could hear his grunts and heard the slap of his body smacking against my ass as he slammed his cock into my cunt, over and over again.

“Stop,” I cried and this time I meant it. He ignored me and kept moving. I cried again, louder, and he hit me once for it. I twisted my head and bit into the covers beneath me, sobbing. Now he was hurting me. It hurt. There was too much sensation inside me, like the pleasure had turned into liquid fire at some point. Like my nerves had overloaded and couldn’t remember what they should be telling me. I screamed and he hit me again. Bit down on my lip. Still he moved inside me, his hands holding me fast even while I clawed helplessly at the covers. I felt my orgasm building again and a wave of shuddering ran over me. I could smell my cum and I groaned, heard him echo it, and again the sensation washed out and over me. I went limp, my eyes half-closed, and I just lay there crying out with each breath as his cock slipped needles of unbearable pleasure with each move it made.

He tensed and stopped his desperate fucking and exhaled a couple times in short pants as he ejaculated inside me. I whimpered. He pulled out of me and walked away. I slid onto the floor, unable to stand and utterly exhausted. Still making soft sounds in the back of my throat, legs spread wide and limbs sprawled haphazardly on the floor.

I’m not sure how I made it back to my own room. Like I said, I can’t remember everything from that night.