He cleared his throat, and then dared look up to meet her gaze. “I am Alfar Forkbeard, son of Jarl Ivar Forkbeard.”
This is a short GE fanfiction inspired by Evil Orange Crayon. Alfar an adventurous young man sets out on an journey beyond his home lands. His travels lead him to the walled city of Kargash. He is overcome with awe when he sees the golden towers and spirals of the palace, he is drawn to it like a spell. He finds his way into the lush green pleasure gardens and is surrounded by guards, captured and collared. His training starts and he is brought to the young Ubara in chains. This is where our story starts.
Chapter One, the beginning.
The young Ubura walked through the halls of her palace, moving in the direction of her throne. The slaves had cleaned her palace quite well. She could see her beautiful features in the marble. They’d make it so that she did not mind allowing the perfect silks of her violet gown drag along them.
She smiled, passing the guards; she was blessed with many riches. They bowed respectively, like they should, and allowed her into her throne. She sighed with delight, entering the main throne room.
The room’s decor was covered with beautiful tapestries and fine carpets. The floor was of a beautiful white marble, speckled with gold and silver. Her throne was covered in with violet silk robes and cushions.
She continued up the carpets, heading up to the throne to take her seat. Her servants scurried around, some with trays of fruit and wine. It was known what she wished for now. She sat carefully, her legs crossing modestly, even though the gown was sheer, leaving nearly nothing to the imagination of those who saw her. She snapped her fingers, her features hardening.
Quickly and as quietly as he could, the nude Torvie boy hurried into her throne room. He skidded to a halt just before her and kneeled in tower. His thighs were spread at a modest level, the type all new slaves used. His back was straight and his eyes were down. Near perfect, yet, it was obvious his training was incomplete. “You summoned this one, Mistress?”
She sighed, nodding; it was good enough. “Aye, I did. You are new to my palace, are you not?” He nodded, “what are you called?”
He cleared his throat, and then dared look up to meet her gaze. “I am Alfar Forkbeard, son of Jarl Ivar Forkbeard.”
She scowled, hearing a few gasps of disbelief from the others in her throne room. “Alfar, is it?” The boy nodded again. “You were a son of a Jarl?”
He scowled, “I am a Jarl, damn you!” He stood, bearing himself to all, no decency at all. She growled; he would have to be punished for this. “I demand that you take this damned thing off of me and release me at once!” He jerked roughly on the black collar around his throat.
“Guards,” she said simply. Several armored men came from their positions, going quickly to seize the unruly beast before her.
“Mistress Brea, do you wish him away?”
Smiling, she shook her head, “Nay, dear. Punish him here.”
“Punish?!” the boy bellowed, struggling against those who restrained him. “I will not be punished a by low-class weak–”
“Hold your tongue, Slave!” she growled, many backing away slowly. “You are to refer to me as Mistress and nothing more. You belong to me and you will be punished for acting ridiculous in my presence.” He saw him tense, pausing as he looked up at her. “If you do not wish for pain then learn what they have been trying to teach you.” One of her hands raised and a servant hurried to put a goblet of wine in it. “If you are trained well,” she paused to look him over, “and act as you should, you will be given a respectable rank among the slaves.”
“I am no slave,” he hissed, the hair on his neck standing on end.
“Well, Alfar son of jarl Ivar Forkbeard , you are now.” She chuckled, motioning with the other hand to a man nearby. He nodded and brought the barbed whip down harshly upon the boy’s back. The boy’s screams of pain soon filled the throne room. She watched, sipping her wine. He should learn his lesson after this.
Chapter Two, the temptation.
He lay on the floor before her, panting softly. It hurt, the pain was all he could feel now. She only sat there, allowing them to beat him mercilessly. He could no longer scream in pain, he was left speechless. His ears rang with each crack of the whip and his own screams; he didn’t hear her demand his attackers to cease. He only became aware when he left gentle fingers touch his chin and lift his face.
He opened his eyes to meet her seas of blue, he whimpered as one of her guards hauled him up. He hovered just above her lap, barely feeling the soft silks of her gown against his belly. He whimpered again, the walls of his pride already crushed. “Please,” he whispered. He felt her fingers trace over his lips, they were dry and blood was leaking from the corner of them.
“You are a marvelous boy, Alfar son of jarl Ivar Forkbeard. You cannot expect me to allow such a beautiful creature to slip from my fingers.” He looked up at her, noting the wicked smile on her painted lips. “You will continue your training within the next week,” malevolence sparkled in her eyes, “You fail. You die.”
He hissed in pain and anger, she was weaker than him. Yet, she had the power to overthrow him. And to threaten to kill him.
“Mistress,” one of her men holding him spoke. “Do you wish for us to take this one to the slave kennels?”
He watched her shake her head, the golden waves of hair falling over one shoulder. “Nay, he will stay with me tonight.”
He tensed, feeling the heat rise to his cheeks. “W-what?”
“But, Mistress!” Another said, fear obvious in his voice, “He’s not trained or broken! He could attempt to kill you while you rest!” It sounded so appealing that he glared up at her. “He even opposes you now, Mistress!”
She waved a hand simply, “Shackle him. I am able of handling a simple slave.” It sounded as if they were going to protest further, but he saw her glare, and was jerked up from her lap. He felt the cold metal encircle his wrists and ankles, his eyes still on her.
She chucked darkly, leaning over the armrest of her throne; the low neck of her gown drooping just enough to give him a perfect view of her. He flushed and looked away. “Alfar, you are to follow every order I give. If you fail to do so, punishment will be issued. If that does not change your unruly behavior then death is the next step.” He visibly shuddered, still feeling the sting of the whip on his back. “Now, if you act properly,” she smiled down at him,” and do as you are told, things will be much easier for the both of us.”
His shoulders slumped, what choice did he have? It was either listen to her or be punished or killed. He sighed, how had he gotten himself into this? He merely entered the so-called Palace and the next thing he knew several men had jumped him and put the blasted collar on him. He sat in tower, like the other slaves had taught him, watching her as she finished the goblet of wine. She was beautiful; if it weren’t for the collar he wore now she would be the slave. He could feel the wicked smile reaching his lips; he could hear her shrieks and protests now as if it were real. Then he blinked hearing a soft ‘oh my’ from his ‘Mistress.’ He didn’t need to look, he felt it. The heat rushed to his cheeks, he now knew why some valued modesty so much.
“Modest, now, are we?” He heard her sing in that musical tone of voice. He only cursed lowly, bitch. She chuckled in response, “I suppose it is good enough that you are not. I will need to test your value before I decide where you go from here.” He looked up at her, “How will you ‘test’ my value?” He felt so nervous suddenly, it grew into a fear when he noticed her smile.
“There is only one way to test you, Alfar darling. I will have you pleasure me, if you fail to do so properly then I will not place you as a pleasure slave.” He flushed totally, with anger, fear, and anticipation. “If you resist now, I will have to have some assistance in setting you straight. But, of course, you know better to resist. Do you not?” He nodded slowly, not wanting to know what her meaning of getting assistance in setting him straight would be. He was not wishing to meet the lashes of the whip again. “Good,” her voice had lowered to barely above a whisper. She looked once more to her goblet, looking slightly shocked to see it empty. She only shrugged carelessly and snapped, getting his attention once again.
The doors at the front of the room opened only a crack to allow the small boy entrance. He had a tray with him, pausing at the threshold to set it down and kneel. His thighs were set at a modest level, palms on them. Then he bowed until his forehead was to the carpets. His voice was as soft as hers, but it carried to them. “May this boy be allowed to enter and serve?”
Alfar looked to the woman next to him, glancing back at the boy then back to her again. She nodded, smiling proudly, “Aye, boy, enter and serve me.”
The boy stood, legs bare and would be totally nude if it weren’t for the white silk loincloth covering him . He picked up the tray and moved gracefully to present himself before the both of them. He set the tray down once more and bowed again, “This boy thanks you, Mistress.” She nodded, simply, and handed him her goblet. The boy took it and kneeled in tower, taking the cloth that covered him to wipe the glass clean. He studied it carefully then nodded in his own approval. He then refilled the goblet, “Would Mistress like this boy to test or sweeten her wine?”
She nodded again, “Aye, boy, both test and sweeten it.” She glanced down at Alfar, “Watch him, you will learn to do the same.” He nodded his attention going back to the boy before him. The boy had poured but a bit of the red colored wine into his palm; carefully, he licked it from his palm, tasting the sweet liquor. With another nod of his own approval he set the goblet between his thighs, only to let it ride up his form to his heart. He paused for only a moment before whispering with three beats of his heart, “Love, honor, and devotion.” He then brought it to his lips and kissed the rim, turning the kissed section to her and presenting her the goblet.
Alfar watched as she took it, blinking in amazement. That was one of the most senseless things he had witnessed. “What was the purpose of that?” He demanded, glaring up at Brea. The slave before them blanched, as if surprised to hear him use such contempt before his mistress.
“Testing was to make sure no poisons would enter Mistress’s system,” he barked. “Sweetening was the show of love and honor–”
“I heard you, fool! I’m not deaf!” Alfar growled back. “Why do it at all?”
“It was how he was trained,” She looked over to the boy, “You may go now.” She looked back at him, a smile touching her lips. “It is how you will be trained.” He snorted, watching the boy stand and bow, then move with grace back to the doors and slip through them when they opened.
“Now,” she turned to him. “I believe you best show your value now.”
“Woman, I will not show you anything!” He started when she stood, watching her cautiously. He watched the violet silks slide off her form; his eyes quickly went to the floor. He felt the heat rise to his cheeks and he tried his best to control himself. He saw her dainty feet move into sight, but merely focused on them. “What is it, Alfar?” He heard her chuckle, “you do not want to look at your Mistress?”
He allowed his eyes to go up her bare legs. He gulped, the small patch of pubes between her thighs getting his attention. Suddenly, she was before him, showing all her womanly charms. “What is it, my little Jarl?” He looked away, growling softly. She was teasing him, the bitch, thinking she could get him to do whatever she pleased.
He felt her fingers slide up his chest, tensing at the feathery feel. He would not fall to this mere… Woman! He forced himself to focus on the shackles; the cold steel, their black color. But, the light touch of her fingers over one nipple, her tongue teasing and tasting the other, those defiant fingers on the tip of his cock; it was a near impossible task to stay focused. He couldn’t hold it back, her fingers hand found the base of his cock causing a groan to escape his lips. And, suddenly, it all came to a halt.
He blinked, looking down at her. “What is it, Alfar?” she purred. “Did I stop too soon?” She chuckled, “Do not expect me to pleasure you, boy. You are the slave.”
Chapter Three, the desire.
He cursed softly, and she smiled in response. How amusing. He was quite a prize, if only he had been trained properly. Her fingers found his chin and she forced him to look at her, “Are you going to cooperate or will I have to have you killed?”
She sat back on her heels, taking one of his hands. He tensed, jerking back a bit, but she kept a firm grip on his hand. She continued by pressing it against one breast, “Here is where you choose, boy, life or death.”
He glared at her, and then with all his might that the collar allowed, he pushed her to the floor. She gasped in surprise as he took a position above her. She struggled for a moment under him, all that weight would crush her and ,damn him, he knew it. “Get off of me!” Her hands moved to his throat, just under the collar, in an attempted to push him off. “Damn you, I said Get OFF!”
The slave on her cackled, pressing himself down on her. “Ah, but ‘Mistress’ you wanted to test my value.” He growled, catching her wrists in his hands. “Well, you are about to get what you asked for.”
She struggled under him, feeling his growth against her thigh. “Boy, the penalty for mockery and attempted rape on your Mistress is a slow and painful death. Now GET OFF!”
He pressed himself against her, “Who is going to make me?” He chuckled, “certainly not you.”
She couldn’t believe it he actually thought she didn’t have any defense. The though was hilarious, she couldn’t help up laugh. She noticed his scowl and felt his cock probe at her womanhood as she laughed. “You actually think that I am helpless under you? You forget the guards.”
She smirked, “One call, boy, and my men will be upon you.”
“I am faster than those guards,” he took her hands from his throat, moving them over her head. “Face it, you’ve lost.”
“Ha! You may rape me, boy, but do not think that will save you any. And you are restrained,” he growled. “Rape me,” she coaxed, “do it and that will be the last thing you do. Is taking this body by force something so appealing that it is worth dying for?”
He spat, “Bitch,” and pulled himself off of her. Her reasoning had gotten to him; she stifled a shiver. The blasted fool had actually made her feel fear. She would make him pay for that. “What do you want me to do now?” his dark brows forked together.
She sat up and slapped him as hard as she could, only succeeding in making her hand sting. “Beast,” she cursed, shaking her hand. He smirked, awaiting her orders. She glared at him her arms opening, “I am not to tell you what to do. You are to do what you think pleasures a woman most.” He flushed suddenly sliding back a bit, “That is an order, boy!”
He slid closer to her, chains dragging on the floor. Carefully, nuzzled her neck, hands pressing to her breasts gently. She cleared her throat, he’s so careful now. What for, I wonder?
Slowly, his fingers began to lightly pinch and twist her nipples, sending fits of shivers down her back. She tilted her head back, giving him more access to her neck, one of the many things she enjoyed. She would have to get used to that, it seemed. He nipped her again, only not so gently, making her hiss. “Beast! Do not damage me!”
He only chuckled, carefully lowering her to the floor. Beast, she though angrily, he shall get ten lashes for that.
The chains clanked together as one of his hands slid down her stomach, finding its way down between her thighs. She cooed softly, her back arching just a tad. His fingers were gently teasing her, his touches were almost as if one was using a feather.
Quite enjoyable, she allowed a soft moan to escape her. Hoping it would encourage the boy to do more. He nipped the underside of her breast before traveling downward. His tongue teased her skin as he moved to his mouth down to join his hand.
This time it was unstoppable, she moaned loudly, his tongue and fingers doing such wonderful things to her. He propped her legs up onto his shoulders, pressing his nose against her opening and purred. Her eyes widened at the wave of pleasure crashing through her. Her back arched and her hands tangled themselves in his black hair, she crushed his face against her as she came.
He pulled away from her chuckling, the bastard. She was still dazed, and unable to sit up. Oh, but the feel, she would definitely keep this one. Ugh, her legs were numb and he was over her, smirking. There was no doubt that he knew what he had done to her. “Shall I continue?”
“No one ordered you to stop, fool.” She cursed, only able to push herself up onto her elbows. He glowered at her, if she were to keep him she would have to beat that attitude out of him. “Well, boy? Are you going to continue or shall I get a more qualified slave to finish the job?”
He glowered at her again; she had to stifle a chuckle. He climbed onto her carelessly, letting the weighted chains fall on her. She cursed loudly as he pushed into her, carelessly as well. The bastard! He had no idea who he was dealing with!
She had managed to catch herself and enjoy him in silence. It seem to infuriate him, his movements increased in pace and intensity. She couldn’t help but wince; at his large cock; it was almost too much for her.
After regaining herself, she forced him out of her and off. “What in Odins hell is wrong with you?” He blinked in confusion. “Have you no decency! You were not to do such a horrid thing in me! BAH!” she stood, limping lightly, to where she had left her gown. “Twenty lashings for such an indecency!” She stalked to the doors, still bare of any clothing.
He stayed, sprawled on his stomach, watching her. His features showed his confusion. He didn’t think he had done anything wrong.
© Evil Orange Crayon