Chapter 1
The Quiet Invitation
This story contains mature themes, explicit language, graphic scenes, and sexual content intended for adult audiences only. Reader discretion is advised.
A metallic plate scraped across the marble floors of the dungeon I resided in, the grating sound echoing in the dim silence. On the plate sat the usual fare: stale bread and a watery gruel, neither appetizing nor nourishing. The only privilege I was allowed was a bath and clean clothes… sometimes. Though my current reality was inhumane, it was no surprise—this was the treatment reserved for prisoners of war. Even sunlight was a luxury I no longer dared to hope for.
“Take her out for a bath after she’s done eating,” the commander growled, his voice low and commanding. “We’ve got a special guest coming in.”
“Yes, sir,” the guard responded swiftly, returning to his post beside my cell without another word.
A special guest? I glanced at the untouched gruel, my stomach twisting more from unease than hunger. The only guests I’d been introduced to were slavers with pockets as empty as my stomach.
Later that night, I was escorted to the pool. The guard, silent as always, walked beside me as we passed the seemingly endless hallway of cells. The dim light of the torches flickered, casting eerie shadows that stretched across the cold stone walls. The silence was broken by a voice—a new one, unfamiliar and unsettling. It was quiet yet commanding, growing fainter with each step I took toward the pool. My curiosity burned, but I dared not ask.
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When we arrived, the pool was surprisingly empty, its usual bustle replaced by a haunting stillness. The guard closed the door behind us and returned to his post, standing like a statue. As sad as it might sound, I sometimes wished he’d talk to me. I was lonely enough to crave even the smallest connection.
I began to undress, first peeling off the rag that served as a shirt, then the torn pants that clung to my legs. My movements were slow, deliberate. I paused, glancing at him, a fleeting invitation lingering in my gaze. As always, he said nothing, his eyes fixed somewhere past me—or so he wanted me to think. I stepped into the water, letting the surprisingly clean warmth envelope me. It never bothered him that I took my time. Dare I say, he even seemed to enjoy watching me.
It had never occurred to me before—not until desperation clawed its way into my thoughts—but he was only a man. A man like any other. And for the first time, we were alone. Perhaps, if I offered myself to him, he might help me. I’d made up my mind. Tonight would be the night.
I stepped out of the pool, water dripping from my skin and pooling at my feet. I walked past the neatly folded clothes that had been left by the water, ignoring them as my heart pounded faster with each step I took. I’d never done anything this bold before. My body trembled—not from the cold, but from the enormity of what I was about to do.
Standing before him, still wet, I raised my hands, palms open to show I meant no harm. His grip tightened on the hilt of his sword, the leather creaking beneath his fingers. I took a step closer, and then another, until I could feel the warmth of his breath against my face. Slowly, cautiously, I lifted my hand to touch his beard, my fingers brushing against its roughness. He didn’t resist, but his eyes stayed locked on mine, his posture rigid, ready to unsheath his blade at any moment.
I pressed my lips to his. His face radiated heat, and for a brief moment, I forgot the cold, the dungeon, the hunger. I hadn’t felt a man’s touch in months. His grip on the sword loosened, and his hand moved to my waist, lingering there as though testing the weight of this moment. But the spell was broken by the sound of footsteps approaching.
“Get dressed! We don’t have all day,” he said, his voice gruff as he gently pushed me away.
“Actually, you do,” I replied, a chuckle almost escaping my lips despite myself. “It’s kind of your job, you know.”
He didn’t respond, but I caught the faintest flicker of something in his eyes—something that told me our dynamic had shifted, even if only slightly.