The Sacrifice of Aeva

It was King Silas’ turn to finally face her. She knew he had given the orders for the burning of her house, her marching to the Sacred Stone, her scourging, her brutal mass rape on the rock, and now the stretching of her poor limbs. But all of these actions had been carried by his men. It was now time for him to directly play his part in the Sacrifice of the clan’s healer, as was required by the ancestral customs of the clan.

He stood in front of her in the rain, his royal beard and clothes drenched in water. Her face was just slighting lower than his. His gaze was intense, passionate but she could not read more into him. He took a long look at Aeva’s predicament, her stretched and exposed body, her bruises, her scars, the blood between her legs. Without taking his eyes off her, he gave a hand signal to Rugar, who directed four warriors, two on each side, to position themselves next to the tensed length of rope between the two rings. Each group was carrying a long wooden pole, it could have been the shaft of a poleaxe, but it was larger in section. They stood at the ready, waiting for instructions.

King Silas approached the stretched girl. His body was almost against hers, his face mere inches from hers. His face still reminded her of that young Prince Silas who was once so madly in love with her. That charming young man who was courting her by bringing her flowers, or the largest Elk from his hunts. The man who had remained oblivious to her needs of pain and hurt. The man who, despite all the signs she had given him, had never once ripped her clothes and flogged her flesh. The man she had eventually decided to walk away from, facing the fact that they were of such a profoundly different nature. The man whose heart she had broken.

She had left him for another young warrior of the tribe, a free spirit named Sigur, who had her screaming, while lashing the skin of her back with his belt, before making love to her as she was still crying from the pain. She had married Sigur, the man she needed instead of the man her heart had wanted. She had learned to love Sigur over time, but the eyes of the gentle Silas had remained forever engraved in her heart.

That seemed an eternity away, and yet the feelings were as fresh as if it had happened the day before. Sigur was now resting the peace of the braves. And the blue eyes of her very first flame, King Silas himself, were staring into her soul. She was fully exposed now, there was no hiding or denying who she was anymore.

“My King…” she said in a soft voice.

He did not answer, but neither did he lower or turn his eyes, like he had done in her hut, when she finally had exposed her true nature to him. Instead, and without saying a word, he lowered his pants revealing a large erect sex, and she felt his stiff member brush against her stretched apart crotch. She twitched at the contact of the royal rod against her intimacy. Even though she had been brutally ravaged by countless men, this felt different. It was lighting a fire not in her loins but in her heart. The flame between them remained alive, even after all these years.

In a slow, but confident gesture, the King pressed his erect glans against the bleeding opening of her sex and pushed in. It hurt, but she welcomed him inside of her. His rod slowly penetrated her, scraping her raw insides. The King was a powerful man, and the contact of his hips against hers pulled her already strained hip joints into a world of hurt. But she was happy to ignore the pain for the moment.

She realized that from the instant she had been lowered to the rank of prisoner slave, when she had been pulled out in the rain and beaten as she saw the house of her childhood burn into an inferno of flames and smoke, her most painful loss had been that of the love of her fellow clansmen. She had been turned into an object of hatred, the embodiment of the wrath of the gods, for so many people themselves in pain.

Now there was a man who was loving her, she could see it in his eyes, and it filled her with joy. Despite all the hurt, there was only one thing she wanted, and she went for it. She kissed him, thrusting her tongue in his mouth. And he kissed her back, just as passionate. She felt him accentuate his thrusting inside her sex, and leaning his full weight onto her already overstretched body. Oh god did it hurt, but did it feel good to have his body pressed against hers! His strength was formidable, it felt like her joints were going to tear, she couldn’t hold it and let out a scream of pain.

- “Aaaaaaaahhh…”

The King was not startled by her scream. He did not relieve the pressure on her in any way. 

- “Is my touch hurting you? Even after everything you have suffered…” 

There were tears appearing at the corner or her eyes.

- “Yes my King, you are hurting me…” 

He took her answer in, fully focused on her, attentive. But once again he did not lower the pressure he was putting on her body. Continuing his slow pushes inside of her, he raised his right hand, and Aeva saw he was holding the Royal Claw. It was a ceremonial weapon, one of the symbols of power of the King, a glove of sorts with four large metal claws imitating that of a mighty bear mounted on the back of the hand. Aeva had not thought this item would be used as an instrument of pain, but even in the gloomy light she could see the point of the metal spikes had been sharpened as he slowly moved them across her face and pressed them against the tender skin of her neck. He whispered to her, in a quiet voice that only she could hear.

- “I saw it in your eyes, you understand what my warriors will do next. And there is worse to follow... If you were given the chance of a quick, merciful death, would you take it?”

This was a hard question, even for her. The pain she was in was unbearable. But inside, she felt more alive than she had been in many years. The fire was burning inside her, she was farther in her journey of pain and torture than she had ever been. And her heart was beating as hard as it had ever in her life, for the man now pressed into her. The man who was both hurting her and making passionate love to her.

- “I… do not want… mercy… my King…”

King Silas slowly nodded his head, and he lowered the metal points, turning his hand over and resting it onto her stretched shoulder. He kissed her again, and ramped up the movement of his hips. He was now slamming into her with each penetration. And he could feel the contractions over her sex each time he drove into her, as the force of his hips was jerking her overstrained articulations. Her face was slowly losing composure, contorting until she fully broke into tears. The King was close and finally, his last slam sent her shrieking, as he spurted his load inside of her damaged, bleeding sex.

Her complaints stopped as his assaults did. Her eyes were still closed, but King Silas was stunned at the spectacle in front of him. He finally had been intimate with the women who had haunted his dreams since he had been a young man. What he had felt as their bodies joined together was unlike anything he had ever known with the Queen, or with any of the many women he had had in his life. He could not even have imagined it in his wildest dreams. 

He had been in love with an idea of what Aeva might have been, and that idea had been shattered in the past few days. But his love had survived, and now the broken woman in front of him was waking a vigor and desires he had thought had been lost decades ago. It was almost impossible to reconcile with any sane idea of love and pain. In a sense, that act of passion had left his world in shambles. How could he feel as passionately in love as a young man, for a woman who was suffering so badly? And how did not feel any pity for her? How could a love so pure and cruelty so brutal take form as one together in his heart?

When Aeva found enough strength inside herself to open her eyes, her whole being was still overwhelmed by the excruciating pain that was coursing every part of her body. But another fire was also now brightly lit, that of the loving eyes of her King. She wanted to get lost in them. She found herself grateful for her immense suffering, for this unanticipated joy. She knew perfectly well, there would never exist any other circumstances where she could have reconnected with her King in this fashion.

- “I am grateful… to the Gods.. and to you… my King… for my suffering.”

He looked at her with the kindest eyes. She dared.

- “My King… are you still.. in love… with a dream…? Or do you love… me?” 

The King looked at her one more time, taking in the frailty, the pain and the open heart of his lover. His hearts was beating faster in his chest, he could feel the blood gushing to his member, soon he would be hard again. 

- “I love you, Aeva. I now know who you are, and I love you.”

His words were pure joy to her ears, and made her pain a bit more bearable. And he saw the expression on her face, how meaningful this was for her. And she saw how it meant to him as well. She gathered her strength once more.

- “My King… I have no rights but… I wish… I wish for my suffering… my suffering to the end… to be… at your hand.”

For the first time since they had talked in her hut, he understood her. He understood who she was, and he understood what the Gods were expecting of him. He did not lower his eyes. 

- “It will be so, my love.”