"Pick up the pace, Spit Witch," one of the Night Mages, a man with a scar on his lip and cruel eyes named Rock, sneered.
He spat a wad of phlegm onto the road just in front of her, making her flinch. "The King won't wait for your peasant shuffle."
The head Night Mage had agreed to her meeting the king and had sent a message to him
Darana recalled the look of agony on her father's face. His realization that he had failed his daughter. Her brother's tears as they dragged her away. Her mother's tear-stricken face.
She had to do this to save their lives, after putting them in so much danger.
The dust of the road gritted between her teeth, each step kicking up a fresh cloud that the horses of her captors ignored.
Darana walked. The three Night Mages rode.
Her wrists were bound with coarse rope, the fibres eating into the delicate skin there.
"A shame His Majesty is really in need of this disgusting thing," mused the second Night Mage, a younger man named Alec.
"I rather…"
"Careful boy, your words could cost you your neck." The head Night Mage, Corin spoke, his voice cold and authoritative.
As the sun began its descent, they stopped by a creek to water the horse. Darana was allowed to kneel and drink from her cupped hands.
Rock watched her, his gaze lingering all over her body with a dark intent that made her skin crawl.
As she stood, he was suddenly there, his hand sliding up her arm, his eyes on her breasts.
"Maybe we should test you first," he leered his voice low enough for only her to hear, his breath having the stench of stale ale.
"Let's see if you're worth the trouble." His other hand unbuttoned the front of her dress, her full breasts spilling out, her nipples pink and erect because of the cool air.
Panic, lanced through her as her heartbeat quickened. She tried to pull away, to hit him but her tied wrists stopped her. His grip was so strong.
He squeezed her left breast, his bulge getting bigger as he looked disgustingly excited.
"I wonder how my cock would feel in your mouth, I'm going to enjoy this."
She spat on him, a desperate attempt to do anything to escape. He cackled.
"You filthy bitch," he said, raising a hand to hit her.
Darana flinched, but the blow never came. Instead she heard a series of sickening cracks and pops. The grip on her arm grew slack.
She opened her eyes to see a horrific sight. Rock's head wrenched backwards, a silent scream stretched his mouth wide.
His eyes bulged with agony, his spine arching at an impossible angle.
Corin was a blur of motion. She saw him point his spear towards Rock, causing his body to bend more with more pops.
Then the blade glinted as Corin took a step forward. He swung and the steel met the exposed, straining flesh of Rock's throat.
The magical contortion had locked in his muscles, the blade met resistance and bit through his bone with a wet, final thunk.
The head, its face still frozen in agony, fell to the ground and with a dull sound. The body, released from the spell, crumpled a second later, twitching in the dirt.
He calmly wiped his blade clean on Rock's tunic. He looked from the neutral faced Alec, who despite his non-chalant demeanor was slightly trembling by his horse, to Darana.
The coppery smell of blood hit her, making her feel nauseated. She quickly buttoned up her shirt, her hands shaking and ran to a nearby bush, puking.
The message was clear, her life had no meaning. It was entirely on her usefulness to the King. If she failed it wouldn't just be her neck, but her entire family.
"I hope no one would cause any more disruption on this journey." He kicked Rock's body off the path, into the treeline.
"Now, walk."
*****
They reached the castle as night fell. Darana expected to be taken to a dungeon, or perhaps a direct audience with the King.
Instead she was led through a maze of lesser-used corridors and handed over to a stern-faced woman, with her grey hair in a tight bun.
The room she was given was small with a bed and a single high window but it was clean and just for her.
The matron and two silent girls brought a tub and hot water. They scrubbed her with a rough cloth as if washing livestock for the market.
They said nothing to her. Once clean, they left her alone. She sat on the bed listening to the unfamiliar sounds of the castle.
Finally the door opened again. The maid entered with a purple cloth. She helped her into it.
The silk was cold against her skin. It had no sleeves, the neckline was deep, showing her cleavage. Under the candle light, it was see-through, showing her lace underwear.
The maid opened the door and a guard stood outside. He simply jerked his head and she followed.
The King's chambers were a world away from a tiny room. Rich tapestries depicting hunting scenes, thick carpets and the warm, oil lights from a dozen oil lamps.
And there he was, propped up on a mountain of silk pillows in a bed enough for five.
King Rupert was a man carved from a fairytale.
His hair was the colour of summer barley, his features were sharp, a strong jaw, a sharp nose, lips that would be so sexy if he smiled. His eyes a deep copper brown.
As Darana approached, she saw the true cost of his ailment. His left hand was subtly wrong. The skin was an angry red, a purple line ran through his fingers, the nails grotesque.
"They call it the Royal Fire. A curse placed on the throne by your kind," he said, locking eyes with her.
"It started deep inside, a hot burn in my chest and now it threatens to break out through my skin." He tried moving his fingers, a flicker of agony tightened around his eyes.
"My methods require my… fluids, Your Majesty," she stammered, praying that he would not be repulsed.
His lips curled. "I haven't asked my concubine to please me yet," he gestured for her to come closer. He looked at her body, her breasts full and her hips voluminous, the silk gown thin, revealing her panty.
He held her wrist and pulled her. Darana gasped, as she landed on the bed. Rupert made her get on all fours. In one swift motion, he removed her gown and only her panty remained.
"I'm not going to give you the luxury of tasting my cock, until you prove your worth, wench. So don't get your hopes up."
This position was new to Darana and made her feel something she didn't understand.
Rupert groped Darana's big breasts from behind and smirked. His hands began to squeeze and knead the twin mountains.
His expert hands were stimulating her body.
Darana moaned, her body responding to his touch. She felt his fingers move down to her panty.
"You're already so wet," he moved his hand around the wet fabric, circling round her clit. Then he ripped the fabric, revealing her throbbing pussy.
He moved his malformed finger in and out of her hole. Her vagina was so tight. She moaned as he continued fast, the pleasure insatiable.
As her juices touched his fingers, they started changing, turning back to normal. Suddenly Rupert slapped her right butt cheek, the red hand print visible.
"Ahnn," Darana cried out the pain bringing more pleasure. More slaps landed and her butt cheeks jiggled with each one.
Rupert turned her over and made her lay flat on her back. He gripped her breasts, squeezing them tightly. He used one hand to pinch her pink peaks and the other to continue fingering her.
Darana squirmed on the bed, her pussy dripping. As Rupert went down and glanced at the dripping pussy he smirked.
He pulled out his tongue and licked her pussy.
"Haah…hyannnh!" Darana's erotic moans filled the room as Rupert's tongue entered her pussy deeper.
The fire inside Rupert was subsiding, as he drank Darana's juices. Her healing powers were so strong and no healer had ever come close to this.
Squirt! She released her fluids from her pussy and wetted Rupert's mouth and face. He drank it all and was healed.
Darana was clenching the bedsheets and gasping deeply.
However, he was done without her. He no longer felt pain and his body no longer burned.
"Get up wench," he said coldly. "Remove yourself from this place." He threw her cloth to her, she wore the gown standing up.
Suddenly, a wave of fatigue settled over her. She swayed, as her vision blurred and she collapsed to the ground gasping for air.
The King moved his fingers, a look of wonder on his face. Then his gaze fell on her, crumpled and half conscious on his fine carpet.
The wonder was replaced with cold, calculating satisfaction.
He rang a bell and a maid came in. "See to it that she doesn't die," his voice stronger now filled with energy.
"Get her food and water. Call the physician and put her back in her room. Tell Corin to assign a trustworthy guard to monitor her."
He laid back on his pillows, a slow smile spreading across his face.
"She's a useful little thing."