Niara's Tales: Bow of the Righteous

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Strong Intimidation

The day passed slowly, without sign of the band, and it was dark already by the time Niara heard movement in the camp.
“Nothing to report here, sir. How went the raid?” Yellow’s voice.
“Bastards hired a bunch of mercenaries to help ‘em out. Guy I used to know once was there. Dead now. Didn’t get nearly as much loot as we’d hoped though, and we lost Silver and Baldy.” There was the sound of a crate being kicked. “Thorns, get everyone sorted out and start organising our supplies, and see no one touches the spoils. We’ll divvy up when I’m done with Little Whore; I need something to lighten up the evening.” Niara swallowed, taking a deep breath as she tried to prepare herself.

Cameron’s face was dark and angry as he appeared before the grate. She watched him undo the chain and step inside from across the cell.
“Hope you aren’t expecting gentle, Little Whore.”
“Aww, and here I was hoping for some foreplay, like last night.” She raised her fists, taking a stance. “Come on, you son of a bitch, or are you too tired to fight?” He paused, looking at her, head tilted slightly, then broke into a broad grin.
“Never had one come back for more. Bitch, you just made my whole day brighter.” He slipped the war-hammer off his back, leaving it propped by the gate, then came at her in a flurry of blows.

She blocked and dodged away, ignoring the complaints of bruised and strained muscles. More rested, she could track his movements better this time, but she was still far too fast for her. She couldn’t avoid everything, and as a punch slipped through to strike her shoulder, the force of it spun her around. Before she could recover, his foot drove into her back a moment later, sending her crashing into a wall. She turned quickly, trying to get her bearings, but he was already there in front of her, hands raised high in a double fist that came slamming down on the top of her skull. Her vision blacked out for a moment as, dazed, she dropped to her knees, then forward, barely catching herself with her hands. The kick came swiftly after, striking her in the middle and throwing her sideways to the ground. Another kick in the same spot made her cry out, eyes streaming as she gasped and coughed, retching. She forced herself not to be sick, swallowing and trying to breath, ignoring the acrid taste in her mouth.

“Up, bitch, up! You started this, and I ain’t finished yet.” He was watching her as she struggled to her feet, still unsteady.
“Tell me do you rape because you can’t get a woman any other way?” She attacked him without waiting for an answer, striking as fast as she could, if a little wildly. As before he stopped or avoided everything she tried, though one punch brushed lightly across his shirt as he twisted away from it. He grabbed the offending arm and drove his knuckles into her gut twice quickly before throwing her down onto her back. Dropping to one knee, he pulled her up just enough to thrust one hand, open palmed, against her breast bone, slamming her back to the stone. She gasped weakly, coughing as she tried to force air back into her lungs. She still felt like she might be sick at any moment, but made herself look at him as he unfastened his pants.

“Or maybe,” she coughed again, brutal pain tearing through her, “maybe it’s because you’re so… Aghh… so fucking talentless you could never actually please a woman anyway.” The last she snarled through grit teeth as he forced her legs apart roughly. He paused long enough to lash out, striking her savagely across the top of her jaw with the back of his fist.

“Shut it, bitch. I like your spirit but not your tongue. Keep it up and I’ll cut it out of that pretty head of yours in a heartbeat.” Her body arched in pain a moment later, knuckles whitening on her clenched fists as he penetrated her. She snarled at him, limbs trembling as she fought down a cry. The pain as he thrust again was unbearable. Light, why did it have to hurt so much? She couldn’t hold back the tears as he continued, spitting curses at him in between the ragged, tormented screams that forced their way from her throat. She soon found herself crying and thrashing as fervently as her battered body would allow, desperate to make it end, but he drew it out, leering above her until she began to beg for him to stop.

When he finally finished, he leaned down close on top of her, crushing her to the stone with his weight and pinning her down with one hand holding her throat. As she fought to breath he watched her, thrusting a few more times for good measure.
“You’ll never beat me, bitch, you hear? Never. You’re mine, for the rest of your miserable life.” He spat on her and smirked before pulling out and climbing to his feet. Niara rolled onto her side, hands instinctively going to her groin. She didn’t care that her fingers were stained with his horrid leavings; the damaged, tender skin stung so badly, hurting more now from the continued abuse that it had from their initial onslaught.

Another vicious kick was only partially stopped by her covering arms as it struck at her middle and she gasped, losing the battle against the sobs wracking her body. She only got a few moments respite before being hoisted to her feet again, and dragged out of the cell. As Cameron pulled her up the slope and across the open ground of the fort, she could see the other bandits sitting, standing or lying about the ruins. For the most part they looked tired and run down, and several were tending fresh injuries. Only a few looked up as he dragged her to a ruined column on one side of the area and pulled her arms up over her head, binding them together, and to a rusted iron ring above her. He left it at that, however, heading over to where thorns was standing by a selection of sacks and small boxes.

To her relief, none of them seemed interested in her right away, though she didn’t trust that to last. Rather, they set about dividing the spoils of their raid that weren’t basic supplies. She watched on, breathing deeply as she fought to regain her composure. Cameron spoke to them all before the dividing began, arms folded across his chest.
“It’s been a rough day, boys. Too rough for Silver and old Baldy, in the end. As usual, their things have been added to the loot, but we’ll have a moment for ‘em before we share out. They fought well.” Niara was surprised by the solemn air, though it lasted less than a minute. It wasn’t something she expected from base thugs.

There were twelve of them in total now, and as the separation began, each of them received a share of the valuable they had gained. She watched each of them in turn stash away their own shares with a collection of their own personal effects; a bedroll or blanket, a pack, and a few other small bits and pieces, before returning to the gathering. When it was all done with, thorns clapped her hands to keep their attention.
“Your time’s your own for now, lads, but don’t get too drunk. I’ll have plans for our next few targets to go over with everyone by tomorrow. We’ve got some bus times ahead.” Here Cameron spat.
“That’s no lie. Sharky’s got some big plans for this whole area, and so long as we keep winning for him, the spoils will be better than any of you have ever seen.” He pulled a stopper from what looked to be cider and took a long swig. “Hey, Edge, Weasel, how’s the food coming?” There was a called response, about twenty minutes, from one of the two that had been busy about the supply of foodstuffs during the division. They seemed to be preparing a large stew pot of some sort of thick, stocky soup. It smelled good, but the thought of trying to stomach anything now made Niara wince. She hung her head, trying to find a position to stand in that didn’t hurt.

The sound of footsteps approaching made her shudder. In her largely secluded corner of the grounds, even without looking up, she knew they must be coming for her, but she willed them to turn away as fiercely as she could. A hand grabbed her chin and lifted her head up a moment later.
“Told you you’d sing different soon enough, eh, Little Whore? You scream loud enough to shake the ruins, you know that? She glared at the grinning features of yellow, even as she tried to brace herself for what she knew was coming. He stroked the back of one finger across her unbruised cheek while she seethed silently. “Thorns reckons you’ve got talents we could use. But you know…” She had already pressed her legs together, and snarled at him as he began to run fingers through the light hair at her groin. He patted after a moment.
“I think you’ve got all the talents we need from you right here already.” He grunted, forcing one knee between her legs. “So give up, Little Whore.” She tried to resist as he put hands to her thighs, but it only hurt the bruised flesh more. The bindings bit more tightly at her wrists as he hoisted her legs off the ground, parting them and pressing himself roughly up against her. He tried to kiss at her as he struggled to open his pants, but she thrust her head aside, averting her face.

She winced, gritting her teeth as she felt him pierce her a moment later. His whole body pressed her hard against the pillar with each motion, bringing spikes of pain from each of the dark blemishes that marked her all over. His thrusts made her grasp and grunt, but she fought to bite back her cries, willing it to be over before she was reduced to tears again. The damaged, abused skin burned in agony as he fell into a fast rhythm, but at least the remnants of Cameron’s earlier attentions meant she didn’t want for lubrication… she despised the fact, cursing its truth in her mind even as she was thankful of it.

She couldn’t hold back the tortured shouts forever, crying out raggedly against his pounding thrusts before long. She refused to let herself cry though, channelling everything into her anger and fighting off the tears with a grim determination. He pulled out of her and allowed her legs to drop almost as soon as he finished, turning his back to walk away at a saunter, as though he had done nothing more than have a pint. More of them came to her after they had eaten, and she endured them, trying to block out all that she could of the violations against her. Her stoic resolution didn’t hold as the night grew late, worn down to weak, tired sobs before the night at last fell quiet save the sounds of their sleep.

The next morning, she awoke chilled and shivering, with a dull ache separate from the bruised soreness in her gut, a soreness she knew well. A trickle of blood on her left thigh confirmed the suspicion; her cycles had started, a little over a week early. She shuddered in the early light, cold, sore and hungry, and wondering how much longer she’d last. Feeling sorry for herself, it made her realise how little she’d thought anything through since leaving the farm. Never mind food, she hadn’t even brought and of the most basic supplies for her personal needs; not even a change of clothes. A part of her wondered what she’d been thinking, but the response from the other corner of her mind was all too swift: she hadn’t been. She winced, trying to stretch, and looked about. The others were still asleep, wrapped warmly in their blankets and bedrolls. What she wouldn’t’ give for a blanket. Or clothes that actually covered her. As she looked around, her eyes fell on thorns, sitting up at one of the low tables, adrift in a clutter of maps and documents. She was sipping something that steamed gently from and earthen mug as she worked, and Niara couldn’t tell if she had risen early, or simply not slept.

“Thorns,” her voice was dry and silent at first, and she tried again, managing a raspy whisper. “Thorns, I need to talk to you.” The other woman looked up and across to Niara, then back to her work. She hesitated before looking back up once again more quickly, her eyebrows narrowing. She stood and, careful not to disturb anyone else, made her way over. Looking Niara over, she shook her head, one fist on her hip. When she spoke, it was in a soft, but matter of fact whisper.
“Should have figured this’d happen. Let me guess, you’re not even due, are you?” Niara shook her head. “Didn’t think so. The stress, and abuse, it’ll do that, though you do seem to be bringing out the very worst in him.” This time it was Niara who shook her head.
“No comfort. He’s holding back, I know it. All he’s done, and nothing lasting… not to my body anyway. No broken bones, or cracked ribs.”
“You’re not getting it, girl. He doesn’t want to break your body, just your spirit. He wants to keep you pretty, and tear your will down piece by piece. Oh, he can hurt you, make you scream and cry, but all the while, it’s your eyes he’s watching. You should have heard him last night, going on about your eyes. He knows he’s not broken you, knows he’s not even close yet, so he says. You don’t even fear him yet, apparently, which is just plain stupid, girl, but oh how it burns and excites him. Don’t think he won’t damage you permanently; he will, if you push him to it, that’s just not his aim.” She sighed, folding her arms. “Anyhow, I should ask. You cramp bad?”
“Not usually.”
“Hmph. Lucky bitch. Well, if you do get bad, let me know, I’ve got a few things that’ll help. I’d get you cleaned up, but here’s the truth: nasty as it may be, you want ‘em to think that it’s the most disgusting and foul thing ever. You want them to know you’re bleeding, ‘cause long as you are, a lot of ‘em won’t want to go near you.” She rolled her eyes here. “’Course, they won’t all be put off, and others will insist on taking… alternatives. It’s not pleasant, but it’ll keep some of them away from you, and I really doubt anything in your life fits the description of pleasant any more anyhow. Listen girl, I’ve got to get back to these plans. I’ll make sure they get you something to eat when they breakfast.” She glanced at Niara’s face one more time, almost apologetic, then turned, walking back to her table.

Her condition wasn’t discovered until one of them, Conor, she’d heard him called, brought her a portion of the rough bread and dried fruit they were talking for breakfast. There wee many glances thrown in her direction, and laughed, grateful comments about having gotten in earlier. Niara did her best to ignore them until Cameron announced that they get down to business. Thorns stood, beginning to unroll a large hide map of Eriador but Cameron gripped her shoulder.

“Not yet, Thorns. We’ve got a more important matter that needs seeing to right away.” Niara suppressed a flinch as he looked at her. He walked across, pulling the strap that bound her to the pillar, and dragged her by the wrist bindings, stumbling, back towards the group. “On your knees.” She was thrust down. Cameron spoke, half to the group and half to her directly, though his eyes never wavered from her face even so.
“So, it seems our Little Whore is having her girly problems then, but you’d better not think that gives you a free pass, not for a moment, you hear?” One hand gripped the top of her head roughly, making her watch him undo the front of his pants with the other. “There’s plenty of other ways you can keep us all happy, and you’re damn well going to, so open up and play nice, Little Whore.” As he pulled out an already hardening length, she snarled, bearing her teeth at him. He smirked. “Though so…”

The hand on her scalp lifted for a moment, then became a hammer blow on the top of her skull, setting spots before her eyes. Dazed for a moment, she felt herself knocked to the ground face down, while a pair of hands grabbed each of her arms and a knee was pressed into her back. Another hand grabbed a fistful of her hair, pulling her head up until she could see Cameron’s boots in front of her face. They were old and dirty, with metal braces around the toes, held on by small spiked studs. She could hear him chuckling above her.

“The way I see it, Little Whore, you ain’t got any more need for those teeth of yours. You don’t need them for pleasing us, and I guarantee that’s how you’re going to spend the rest of your life… So…” He moved one boots forward until she felt the metal brace pressing against her mouth, the foremost stud scratching against her front teeth. Her pulse was racing, her breathing fast as a lance of fear raced through her. Surely he wouldn’t do this, he couldn’t, she couldn’t let it happen. She panicked, struggling hard, tears blurring her vision as he pulled the boot back, lifting it off the ground behind him. “I see no reason to hold back, Little Whore, so if you want to keep that face of our pretty, you’ll behave yourself.” Ashamed, she cried fervently that she would, repeating it through choked, angry tears, and he stopped, crouching down to take the scruff of her hair himself. He craned her head back further to look into her eyes and sneered at her.
“Good. Because it’s only my kind charity that keeps those teeth in your head, and if you want them to stay there, you’d best remember that. Now up.” He stood, dragging her to her knees again by the hair. Her eyes burned with hatred as she looked at him, and the now pulsing member presented to her, but she opened her mouth, fists clenched in shaky, trembling, rage in front of her. He laughed aloud.
"Much better, Little Whore, but only a fool would trust you.” Suddenly, he gripped her head in both hands, and she felt fingers pressing in near the top of her jaw, digging in painfully and forcing it wide. She heard herself making a pained sound, unable to articulate it at all, and couldn’t even think about closing her mouth without having to bite through her own cheeks, as well as his fingers.

A moment later her moan was muffled as he thrust her head against his groin, pulling her mouth down over his length in a swift motion. She wanted to scream, indignant and reviled, but couldn’t fight against him at all. His second thrust pushed deeper, pressing against the back of her mouth in a way that made her throat tighten. Holding her head close still, he pushed again, rocking. At first her throat wouldn’t allow him any further, but he forced her down, jamming her face hard up against his crotch until his length buried itself in her throat more fully. Her body reacted, trying to gag, but she fought it down ruthlessly. Part of her wanted to throw up all over him, just to see him uncomfortable, but she needed every scrap of energy she could retain, and that was not an option. So she fought it down, gasping for breath when she could, eyes streaming. The pain of his fingers jammed into her jaws grew into a throbbing ache that pulsed in time to his vicious thrusting, slamming her face to his groin with each stroke.

As he reached his climax, he groaned, crushing her head against him. His hands tightened, fingertips digging into her skull so hard it made her try to scream around the length filling her mouth and throat. She could feel it in her, throbbing and pulsing as he spilled his seed down her neck. He pulled out when he was finally finished, throwing her back to the ground where she coughed and hacked weakly through her tears. She got to her elbows and knees, trying to breathe properly, only to take another brutal kick to the middle that sent her sprawling again, coughing and gasping anew.

He seemed to ignore her then, turning back to the others, and they left her there, gasping brokenly on the ground as Thorns began to detail their next series of raids in her map. There was no use trying to get away while she was loose like this, even if her aching body could be coaxed to a run, and they all knew it as well as she did, so she lay still, catching her breath and attempting to reclaim her composure. She sniffed quietly and worked her wrists under her feet so that she could wipe at her eyes with still-bound hands while they spoke. She couldn’t follow most of what was said, knowing nothing of the area, but much of it seemed about suppressing or driving off other scattered groups of outlaws in the region and, where possible, taking control of them. There was something, too, about their work being handled by people they called rangers, but none of them went into any more detail than that.

They all began to separate as the planning concluded, and Niara found herself dragged back to her corner and rebound. To her relief, that seemed to be all for the time being, however. She watched them move about the camp, talking with each other and relaxing. Most seemed to spend the day drinking, or gambling with each other, though a few looked in her direction, shrugged, and returned to their other entertainments. The sky was turning to evening when one of them approached her, stopping short to lean on a tree just in front of her. He was tall and slender, with rough-cut brown hair and bore an unstrung bow on his back. From what she could see, its workmanship put her own simple bow to shame. He folded his arms, glancing up at the sky.

“Evening, Little Whore. For what it’s worth to you, folk here call me Hawk. I’d shake your hand, but, well… Anyhow, I’ve been watching you. You’re a tough one; you’d make it here, same as Thorns. She was ‘Little Whore’ once, ages ago, but if I know Thorns, she’s already found a chance to tell you all about that. So, I’m telling you who I am, because one day I might be watching your back out there, if you don’t get yourself killed by the boss.” Niara bared her teeth at his casual tone.
“If you’re here to rape me, then get it over with, you bastard.” He feigned surprise, raising his hands defensively.
“Hey, it’s not like we’re all as bad as the boss man, you know. We don’t all enjoy the screams and the pain. But our line of work doesn’t really offer up any opportunities for action, besides the forced kind.”
“And that’s an excuse, is it?”
“Nah, I’m just saying, we all know you’ve got to fight and rage and beg for Cameron, else he might get bored and kill you, but it doesn’t have to be that way for the rest of us. It’s hardly forced if you’re receptive to it, after all.”
“Yeah? And if I say no, you force me anyway, so you’re still a cowardly, disgusting rapist, no matter how honeyed and sweet you tell yourself you’re being.” She spat to emphasise her hatred and he sighed, shaking his head.
“Have it your way, Little Whore. For what it’s worth, I hope you do live, but in the meantime, what’s a little blood? We’ve all seen plenty enough of that by now.” Niara averted her face, eyes shut and teeth clenched as he moved in close to her, his vest pressing warm against her chest. It made her realise how chilled her own body felt. Rather than a rough, painful penetration, the next thing she felt was thin, nimble fingers touching her notably less than private parts. They were liberally coated in saliva, and he took time exploring her thoroughly. As his fingers slipped over a particularly bruised spot she flinched involuntarily, and felt the touch pull back, then proceed more gently. It almost made her laugh, if not for the context.

“If you’re that concerned, you could always just leave me be.” She muttered under her breath. His head was close next to hers and she heard his quiet response.
“Aye, I could. And then what would the other boys, or the boss think of me, for stopping now?” She heard him re-wet his fingers before slipping them inside further, preparing her passageway. “They might not be watching me now, out of courtesy, perhaps, but you think they wouldn’t notice if I stopped?” She felt him unfasten his pants and lift her feet off the ground, avoiding the worst of her bruises. “It ain’t mentioned, perhaps, but there’s expectations. Things we can’t not do.” It still hurt as he penetrated her, the skin was still raw and tender, and painful to any further intrusion, but she admitted to herself that he could have made it much worse. He whispered again as he pushed all the way in. “No, girl, I won’t leave you be. I’d ask your forgiveness, but there ain’t no-one in this whole camp with any right to ask that, or deserve it.” She sucked a breath in through clenched teeth as even his slow, gentle motions sent jolts of pain through her.
“Just get it over with, and leave me alone.”
“Right you are.” He didn’t speak again as he continued, working his way to a tense, but quiet climax. She could hear his shaky breathing by her ear as he remained pressed close to her for a few seconds. After a while, he let her legs down softly and backed off, putting himself away and refastening his pants. He looked at her, head tilted as she stared back, sullen and wary.

“That cut on your chest. Cameron did that first day, didn’t he? Looks like it might be getting infected. I’ll get Marcus to come and clean it up for you. He knows more about treating injuries than me.” Before she could respond, he turned, heading back across camp. He bent down to talk to another man who seemed to be writing in a small journal, who nodded and stood.

Shorter than Hawk, Marcus was much more built, and the tiny quill and inkpot he had been using seemed almost humorous in his large hands. He traded them for a leather bag, a cloth and a bottle of alcohol before walking over to her. He stopped about a metre away, watching her as she might an injured horse.
“Hawk was right, that needs a look at. Now, are you going to let me take care of it without a struggle?” Niara could feel her last suitor’s fluids dripping from her and running down one leg as he looked her over, and found that she couldn’t even manage to feel embarrassed about it any more.
“You going to abuse my body in between the sweet words as well? Or are you too afraid of a little blood?” Marcus chuckled as he moved in to look at the wound more closely, pushing aside the ragged remains of her shirt and gently holding her breasts apart in a professional and uninterested manner.

“Girl, I grew up learning healing form my ma, your courses don’t scare me. No offence, but you just aren’t my type.” He dampened the rage with alcohol and began to clean the cut smooth, thorough motions. Niara gasped, sucking a breath. The sting almost brought tears to her eyes again, but she held her silence while he worked. “Got to keep up appearances, of course, where it’s expected, but there’s no need to when I’ve got a perfectly valid excuse for the better part of the next week.” He leaned back, looking at the whole cut. “You’re lucky. It’s only shallow, and it won’t leave any mark once it’s all healed u, though there’s always a chance of reinfection if we don’t keep it properly covered. When she glanced at his face, he winked quickly, then turned around.

“Oi! Cameron! A word.” Niara suppressed a cringe as the man stood from his dice game, glowering.
“Whatd’you want Marcus, Thorns says it’s just her monthlies and nothing to be worried about. Don’t tell me the bitch is pregnant.” He walked over all the same, and Marcus raised an eyebrow at him.
“Not with the way you’ve been treating her. No, it’s this cut. It was getting infected, and I’ve cleaned it up, but it needs to be bound and covered, or it will just degrade again. It’s in an awkward spot, and I’ll need to bind the whole chest to cover it like it needs, and you’re going to have to leave it there until it’s healed.” Niara noticed that Marcus had placed himself diplomatically between Cameron and her. The other man didn’t answer right away, angry, but not enough to overwhelm his reason.
“This is unacceptable, Marcus.”
“Well it’s your fault for cutting her up in the first place. You should have been more careful. Unless, of course, you want her to get sick and die before you have a chance to break her spirit, hmm?” Cameron bared his teeth in a snarl, clenching and releasing his fists for a few more seconds.
“Fine.” he spat, “Do it. I’ll leave it alone. I want her healthy.” He spun on his heel and walked off as Marcus hid a smile, reaching into his bag for a thick roll of rough bandage. He reached up to start loosening her ties.

“Now, promise me you won’t do anything foolish when I untie you, and let me get this dressing on properly.” She nodded, then took a relieved moment to rub her wrists when they came loose. She held her arms up again as he removed her shirt and began to bind her chest, beginning with a series of crosses from each shoulder, down to the opposite base of her ribcage. He spoke very quietly as he worked.
“You know, girl, just between you and me, I don’t really need to cover this at all. Now that it’s clean, it should heal fine on its own; it’s only a very light scratch after all… but you’ll catch your death of cold out here without some more covering, and some of those bruises on your ribs and chest really must be left alone if you don’t want permanent marking. I’m sure you won’t tell anyone else about that, though, will you?”

The basic cross cover done, he began to bandage horizontally, binding her breasts firm and secure against her chest without being too tight. As he worked he patted and jiggled at her breasts lightly to ensure there was no real movement. When he was done, the bandaging covered almost her whole rib cage, from just under her arms down, and, under the remnants of her torn shirt, it felt almost like she was wearing decent clothing again. He stood back, nodding.
“There we are. Now, I can see you’re all black and blue elsewhere as well, but there’s not much I can do. I’m assuming he hasn’t broken any bones, but my word, he’s been putting the boot in worse than I’ve ever seen on you, and you keep asking for more, you daft girl.” He sighed. “I’d take a look down below, but even if you’ve taken injury there, and I suspect you might have, I can’t do anything, or request anything that Cameron would allow, so you’ll just have to endure.” As he packed up his bag again, Niara watched him, disbelieving.

“How can you work for that monster?” Marcus paused, leaning back on his haunches, looking at her.
“Because he let me live, girl, where others might not have. Now I’m his man, and I can’t ever leave. You are the same, and so is Thorns, and Wilder, Weasel, and Hawk. And so was Silver, until yesterday. You’ll work for him too, someday, and eventually, you’ll die for him, if he doesn’t kill you first. I’m sorry girl, but I’ve got to do your hands up again now.” She let him, standing silently, thinking about his words.

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