Page 21 of Finding Her Luck
Demand relief.
His smell, the sounds he made, would make that need worse. Corrin could see how it would be. Picture herself on her hands and knees, begging to be filled up.
The lewd image dominated her thoughts. She couldn't stop thinking about it. Would she make those moaning sounds? Would she beg? What would it feel like?
She'd seen farm animals. She understood nature. Nanny's stories had been clear and explicit. His cock would go inside of her. He must be as large as a horse. He'd kill her with it.
But the moans from the blonde hadn't been sounds of agony. Eager, welcomed sex sounds. Whispered hisses of, "Yes," and "Please." Bodies moving together with the same rhythm of Searnon's loping run.
Even more terrible, she'd crawl over him, breathing him in, tasting as she went. A hard, clenching need consumed her. It hurt, tightening her body in a spasm, causing a small gush of that wet.
And still the lascivious, scandalous thoughts churned. A desire to know all of the Orki monster. Put her nose against his neck and inhale. Stroke his skin, bite into muscle. Fondle his interesting and delicate ears. Trace the scars on his face.
She'd place his hands over her aching breasts while she licked him, rub her slit against his muscled stomach until the lips parted and her clit kissed him. She'd tell him that she wanted him.
Turn her bottom to his face and beg him to spank her, hoping instead that he would taste her there the way he had offered yesterday.
The things that went through her mind were outrageous. How could she want that? Even think it? Something had shaken loose in her brain, and she was losing her mind now. He'd broken her.
Corrupted her. There was no way these ideas were normal.
Four days ago, her concern was how many fish she might catch and avoiding a fat, old, pig farmer.
Four days.
Corrin wished Nanny were alive. She needed her. The group rode into the dawn, as the waning Father moon, silvery gray, with the smaller, pink Mother moon to his right, disappeared behind a range of snow-peaked mountains that looked like teeth. The rocky landscape and spiny trees changed into a mist drenched valley. Corrin couldn't imagine that they would stop in the open to camp in the middle of the dark purple and green grass. Without surrounding trees, the cloudy sky above looked huge, gray, and rolling with the promise of rain. It was a different world from home. The sights, sounds, even the fragrant, medicinal smell of the grasses felt foreign. When the war beasts hit the valley, parting the tall grasses on stealthy paws, it woke the creatures who had been hiding there.
All different kinds of birds took to the sky, one set of wings after another in a cascade of flight. Some she recognized: wild geese, mud ducks, red tail, and herons. Some had bright red feathers under wide wingspans, or long, lavender tail feathers with graceful extended necks, taking to the sky like squawking old ladies in their finest wedding clothes.
Big, horned, shaggy pelted, and skinny legged bovine creatures were also startled, a herd of them roused by the encroaching predators, stags bellowing outrage, standing up from the grass where the mist had hidden them. Corrin recognized the shaggy pelts as furs she slept on.
Forbidden this part of the world by the Peace laws, the sights and sounds were unknown. Alien.
The war beasts ignored all the activity and kept running. The grasses hid a marshy land that soon became shallow water with only patches of grass. A half an hour later, there was only water, covered by the mist. She could hear it better than she could see it. Urku-ri pulled a single ax and dismounted; all the other Orki party followed suit.
Water didn't frighten Corrin, but this place was unknown. Was there a reason he'd need the ax? Searnon slowed. The water deepened until the war beast had to swim. Corrin's legs splayed over her sides, the chilly spill lapped at her middle. The current didn't look strong, but that could be deceptive. It rose to Urku-ri's chest, and she wondered if he could swim, or if for all his height, he would need to.
As quick as they entered the river, it seemed to take a long time to get to the other side. Corrin wished for her boat, easily manageable, to give her more control. The creature beneath her moved with self-will, making its own decisions about where and how to cross this river. She clutched at the long, hard spines of Searnon's ruff, shaking with anxiety and the cold of the water.
One of the Orki called out. Corrin almost looked. Not that there was much to see. The morning fog and the deep water both muffled and hid their progress. She didn't know if it was a call for help, for attention, or something else. But somewhere in the last hours, even if the Orki ways were not her own, she knew she needed to try harder to mind herself. Eyes trained on the face of Urku-ri, he had his weapon held above the water surface, at the ready, still walking beside her and Searnon, though she saw that water rose beneath his chin as he crossed the uneven riverbed. The male saw everything around him and yet; she knew she had his attention. His behavior seemed to indicate there might be other things swimming in the water than fish.
She heard another Orki call, then a massive splash that startled her. Urku-ri yelled in his language, was answered by others. Another splash. More incomprehensible words. Searnon made a noisy fuss in her throat. She thought she heard directions. Of "left, on the left." And then more splashing.
Quiet.
Was there always going to be this shocking silence after violence? Because Corrin was sure there had been violence, a hidden menace in the water that had attacked.
"Urku-ri! What is happening?" She couldn't stand the silence. The river and fog ate up sounds, twisted them into strange echoes. It reminded her too much of being in the big house after all the raiders had been cut down.
"Glass water hassisskot kru," he attempted to explain. "Armored fish with sharp teeth. A father of many has tried the taste of Orki this day. No fear, my Corrin, dry place is close." He said something in his language that was probably the name of the dry place. "Mind self, now. Hold tight to Searnon. She says you shake like a nestling."
There were no more loud splashes after that. The dry place, what looked like an island with a thin, rocky beach appeared. Searnon bounded out of the river, giving herself a restrained shake. Corrin thought she might want to shake herself harder but couldn't without the rider on her back flying off, and the beast had decided to take care. She was grateful. The ground looked uncomfortable.
Corrin checked over the new landscape. The trees were massive, crowded together, and bigger round at the trunk than anything she had ever seen. A pale-skinned, white Orki stepped out from the shadows. Blades out.
It took everything in her not to look up, look around, and she trained her eyes between Searnon's ears. It felt like a pointless concession; she was debasing herself, making herself weak, vulnerable.
In comparison to the Orki and the world they inhabited—this was her new existence. Weak. Vulnerable. Defenseless.
