Dust clouds billow behind the approaching riders like storm fronts, their horses' hooves pounding the earth with military precision. I clutch my staff tighter, unsure whether to run or wave them down. Not that I'd get far in this flimsy hospital gown anyway.
The lead rider, a woman with a shock of crimson hair braided tight against her scalp, reins her mount to a halt about twenty paces from . Her eyes widen slightly as she takes in, her gaze lingering on the charred goblin corpse at my feet.
"Well," she calls out to her companions without taking her eyes off , "seems those goblins weren't lying after all."
Only then do I notice the grueso trophies strapped to one of the rear horses, two goblin bodies, presumably the ones who fled from earlier. Their yellow eyes stare lifelessly at the sky.
The redhead dismounts with practiced ease, her leather armor creaking as she approaches. She's tall, at least six feet, with a sword hanging casually at her hip and a smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes.
"Hello there, little bird," she says, her voice honey-smooth. "Lost your way, have you?"
A mory flashes through my mind, Kayla's face, fierce and serious as she made promise never to speak to other won without her present. "It's for your own safety," she'd insisted, golden eyes blazing with that protective fire I'd always found both endearing and slightly unnerving. Kayla was toxic, but I didn’t mind.
My throat tightens. Kayla. I'll never see her again, will I? The reality of my situation crashes down on with renewed force. I'm truly alone in this strange world. I blink rapidly, fighting back the tears that threaten to spill.
God, I miss her. Her weird possessiveness, her white hair catching the morning light, the way she'd curl around like I was sothing precious.
"Cat got your tongue?" The redhead stops a few feet away, hand resting casually on her sword hilt.
I clear my throat. "Sorry, I'm just... a little disoriented."
She circles slowly, like a wolf sizing up its prey. Her companions remain mounted, watching with expressions ranging from curiosity to outright hunger.
"A man wandering alone," she muses. "No brand, no collar... How very unusual."
The way she says "man" sends a chill down my spine, like I'm so rare commodity rather than a person. Her smile widens as she completes her circuit around .
"My na is Vessa," she says, extending a hand. "Captain of the Crimson Riders. And you are...?"
I shift uncomfortably under Vessa's intense gaze, acutely aware of how ridiculous I must look standing in the middle of nowhere in this gown.
"Sam. I'm feeling a little lost right now, to be honest," I admit, gripping my staff tighter. "I've had a very odd day. Do you know where the nearest city is?"
Vessa's expression shifts, her eyebrows lifting in what appears to be genuine surprise. For just a fleeting mont, I swear I see sothing like pity flash across her face, but it's gone so quickly I might have imagined it.
Before she can respond, a sharp whistle cuts through the air from one of her mounted companions.
"Lift his dress," calls a voice from behind her, followed by several snickers.
Vessa's eyes travel down to my hospital gown, her lips curving into an amused smile. "That sure is a strange-looking outfit you have on."
She steps closer, and before I can react, her fingers grasp the hem of my gown, lifting it just enough to expose to the open air. I yelp and scramble to push the fabric back down, my face burning with embarrassnt.
"Hey!" I protest, backing away a step.
The won laugh openly now, exchanging glances that make my skin crawl. I wrap my arms around myself, trying to maintain what little dignity I have left.
"I'm, uh, honestly a bit at a loss on how to explain why I'm this... indecent," I stamr, looking anywhere but at their faces.
Vessa crosses her arms, studying with renewed interest. "Where are you from?" she asks, her tone more commanding than curious.
I sigh, knowing how ridiculous my answer will sound. "Boston."
"What is Boston?" Vessa tilts her head, confirming my fears.
"It's a city," I explain weakly. "Back where I'm from. But I'm guessing it doesn't exist here."
Vessa exchanges aningful glances with her companions. "Never heard of it." She circles again, this ti with more purpose. "And n don't just wander alone."
The way she says "alone" makes it sound like sothing sinister. I clutch my staff tighter, ready to defend myself if necessary, though I doubt I could even try to take them.
"Look," I say, trying to sound reasonable, "I don't know how I got here or what's going on. One minute I was..." Dying. I was dying with Kayla holding my hand. The mory hits like a physical blow, and I have to pause to steady myself. "I was sowhere else, and then I just woke up here."
Vessa narrows her eyes, scrutinizing like I'm a puzzle she can't quite solve. "This almost feels like a trap," she says slowly, circling again. "Too easy. Like soone just left you here for us to find."
Her gaze intensifies, boring into with suspicious curiosity. "I've never in my life seen a man without its owner. Not once."
The way she says "its" instead of "his" makes my stomach clench. I'm not a person to her—I'm a thing.
"Look," I say, desperation creeping into my voice, "I'm just trying to find a city, get so clothes." I gesture at my ridiculous hospital gown. "Maybe find a job or sothing..."
Without warning, she places her hand firmly on my shoulder.
The effect is imdiate and terrifying. My entire body seizes up, every muscle locking in place as if I've been turned to stone. I can't move my arms, my legs, even my fingers refuse to twitch. Only my lungs still function, and barely at that, shallow, panicked breaths that don't bring nearly enough air.
"Look," Vessa says, her voice softer now, "I feel a little bad about this, but..."
She leans in closer, examining my face. Her eyes widen suddenly, and she bursts into uncontrolled laughter, the kind that cos from genuine shock.
"You're fucking cursed too," she gasps between peals of laughter. "No fucking way."
She whistles to her companions, never breaking contact with my shoulder. "Ladies! This guy's fucking cursed!"
The other won exchange glances, so looking intrigued, others concerned. They dismount and approach cautiously, forming a circle around .
"I'm sorry, Sam," Vessa says, still chuckling. "Today's really not your day."
My lips barely move as I force out the words: "What's... happening... to ?"
Vessa's expression shifts to genuine confusion as she studies my face. "Wait, you don't know what's happening to you right now?"
"No," I manage to force out through nearly frozen lips, my body still locked in place by her touch.
The won exchange aningful glances. Without warning, several pairs of hands grip firmly, lowering my rigid body to the ground. I can't resist as they position on my back, the grass tickling my neck. My eyes dart frantically between their faces hovering above .
"Most n are kept in line with magic shock collars or the occasional whip," Vessa explains casually, as if discussing the weather. She kneels beside , her hand still firmly on my shoulder. "But so..." She pauses, her expression darkening. "Well, let's just say Goddess Velthara hates so n a lot more than others. And apparently, you did sothing to seriously piss her off."
Before I can process this, several of the won reach for the hem of my hospital gown, pushing it upward to expose completely. I try to protest, but my body won't respond.
"Ain't much at all," one of the won snickers, leaning over to get a better look.
Vessa rolls her eyes. "Because he's not hard yet, dumbass."
My face burns with humiliation as I lie helpless under their scrutiny.
Vessa shifts position, placing her index finger directly on my forehead. The contact sends a strange tingling sensation throughout my body, like static electricity, but sohow deeper.
"You see," she explains, her voice taking on an almost professorial tone, "this little curse makes it so you can't disobey any woman who touches you. Your body isn't your own anymore."
"What the fuck?" I gasp, the words barely escaping.
"Yeah," Vessa nods sympathetically. "You got it tough, buddy."
She leans down until her lips brush against my ear, her breath warm against my skin. "Get hard for ," she whispers.
My body responds instantly, as if her words have flipped so internal switch. Blood rushes to my groin, and I'm suddenly, painfully erect. It's not arousal, not really. It's chanical, forced, completely divorced from desire or emotion. My mind screams in protest while my body betrays .
"Oh shit!" exclaims the woman who'd mocked earlier. "That's gotta be what, 10 centiters at least?"
Her friend reaches over and slaps her upside the head. "That's at least 13 centiters, idiot. Don't you know anything?"
I close my eyes, wishing I could sink into the earth and disappear. The violation feels complete, not just my body, but my very autonomy stripped away.
Vessa's hand brushes across my cheek, her touch sending fresh waves of that paralyzing sensation through my body. I can't even flinch away.
"Don't sulk, Sam," she says, her voice almost gentle despite the cruelty of what's happening. " and my girls are gonna take really good care of you."
My stomach turns as she shifts her weight, her free hand moving to the waistband of her leather pants. The other won lean in closer, their expressions a disturbing mix of excitent and anticipation.
I'm completely helpless, unable to do anything but watch as Vessa begins to shimmy her pants down her hips. My mind races frantically, searching for any way out of this nightmare.
Then, a deep, resonant horn blast cuts through the air.
The won freeze, heads snapping up in unison. Vessa's hands stop mid-motion, her expression shifting from playful cruelty to sothing close to alarm.
"Fuck," she hisses, yanking her pants back up in one quick motion.
A/N: Image of Vessa, will have to update later
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