Chapter 1: Resolution
Karela strode through the castle's labyrinthine corridors towards the throne room. Her boots echoed against the cold stone floor, the sound a stark contrast to the hushed whispers of the castle's inhabitants. They scurried out of her way, eyes cast down, fearing the fierce bandit leader. Her fiery red hair cascaded down her back, a stark contrast to the drab, muted tones of the castle's interior. She could feel their eyes on her, taking in her tall, athletic frame, decked out in her finest leather armor with silver etchings, a sword at her, and a blood-red cloak swirling behind her.
Karela normally eschewed finery but she wanted to impress Amanar. She didn't trust magic users, indeed, there were few things in the world she trusted outside of cold steel in her fist but his power and wealth were undeniable and the Red Hawk had every intention of capitalizing on them.
She found the throne room, a cavernous space filled with velvet drapes and ornate tapestries depicting scenes of ancient battles and mythical creatures. At the far end, a dais held a throne carved from a single piece of obsidian, black and gleaming under the flickering torchlight.
Amanar sat upon it, his dark robe blending with the throne, making him seem like a shadow come to life. His cold blue eyes watched her approach, a slight smirk playing on his lips. Karela could feel his gaze, like a physical touch, trailing down her body, lingering on her breasts, her hips, her cunt. She felt a shiver of revulsion and something else, something she refused to acknowledge.
"Karela," Amanar's voice was like velvet, smooth and dangerous. "I've been expecting you."
Karela stopped at the foot of the dais, her hands resting on the pommel of her sword.
"Amanar," she acknowledged, her voice tight. "I've come to negotiate a sanctuary for me and my men."
Amanar leaned forward, his hands resting on the obsidian arms of his throne.
His eyes bored into hers. "And what makes you think I'd be interested in giving sanctuary to a band of thieves?"
Karela lifted her chin, defiance burning in her green eyes. "Because I'm not just any thief. I command two hundred men who will live and die at my command. Powerful as you may be, I doubt you can say the same."
Amanar considered for a moment then said, "And what would you give me in exchange?" His voice was low, almost a purr. Karela could feel the magic in it, a dark, insidious thing that made her skin crawl.
She met his gaze with a cool, defiant stare. "Loyalty. Service. A cut of the spoils. Anything you require."
Amanar's smirk deepened. "Anything, you say?" He stood, his dark robe swirling around him as he descended the dais. "Very well then. I have a proposal for you, Karela."
He leaned closer, his eyes never leaving hers. "Become my mistress. Grace my bed and my castle is yours."
Karela's eyes narrowed, her lips curling into a sneer. "The Red Hawk is no whore, sorcerer. I cannot be bought like a common tart."
Amanar shrugged. "As you wish. Then we shall do it another way."
That was enough of a threat for Karela to draw her sword. She pointed at the sorcerer's heart with a confidence and ease born of countless battles. “Try anything and I will carve you up like a butcher would a piece of meat.”
Amanar froze, his hands raised. “I am unarmed,” he said quietly. Karela lowered her blade ever so slightly, feeling slightly foolish for threatening a weaponless, unarmored man. The sorcerer swiftly drew a complex symbol in the air with his finger, leaving behind a fiery glow.
The Red Hawk didn’t notice anything different about herself or their surroundings but she cursed herself for her carelessness in underestimating someone versed in the arcane. She started forward, intending to make good on her threat but found that her feet would not move. The Red Hawk looked down in astonishment. Her feet and legs still possessed their full sensation and did not feel held but she couldn’t move so much as a single toe.
"What sorcery is this?" she demanded hoarsely. "Release me, Amanar, or-"
“Cast your weapon aside,” he commanded.
She stifled a scream as her arm obeyed, sending the blade skittering across the stone floor. It slowed to a stop against a stone pillar, well out of reach even if her legs had been working. An unfamiliar feeling flickered through her. It took the Red Hawk several seconds to realize that it was fear.
Amanar nodded in satisfaction. "Remove your garments, Karela."
“Fool,” she began, and her green eyes started with horror as her slim fingers rose to the golden pin that held her scarlet cloak and undid it. The cloak slid from her shoulders to the floor. "I am the Red Hawk," she said. It was little more than a whisper, but her voice rose to a scream. "I am the Red Hawk!"
Karela could not stop watching with bulging eyes as her hands removed the golden breastplates from her heavy round breasts and casually dropped them, unfastened the emerald girdle that rode low on her flaring hips. Her boots followed a moment later, leaving her clad only in her bra and panties.
"Beyond these walls," the black-robed man said quietly, "you are the Red Hawk. Inside them, you are...whatever I want you to be."
She looked at Amanar, her eyes filled with pleas that she refused to give voice to as her fingers ran tantalizingly over her breasts then made their way to her bra's fastenings. She undid it with a swiftness that spoke of long practice, and the garment fell away, exposing her breasts to his gaze. They were full and round, with large, dark nipples that were already hardening under his gaze. She swallowed hard, her hands moving to her panties, the last barrier between her and nakedness. Her hands didn't hesitate, didn't respond to her desperate efforts to stop or even slow them, her eyes silently pleading.
Her hands trembled as she hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her panties and slowly, agonizingly, pulled them down.
She stepped out of them, kicking them away like an afterthought. She stood there, naked and vulnerable, her heart pounding in her chest like a war drum. Her breath came in short gasps, her breasts heaving with each one. She was aroused by the humiliation, the degrading act of stripping for him, yet she couldn't help but feel a twinge of fear at the thought of what was to come.
Amanar's eyes roamed over her body, taking in every curve, every inch. He licked his lips, a predatory gesture that sent a shiver down her spine. "Beautiful," he murmured, his voice low and husky.
"You're even more exquisite than I imagined. And now you are mine."
"I am no one's," she spat, her voice barely above a whisper. "Least of all a filthy sorcerer's."
Amanar chuckled, a low, dark sound that sent a shiver down her spine. "You require further proof? Very well. Lie atop your discarded clothing, spread your legs wide, and use your fingers to bring yourself to climax.” He said it nonchalantly, as if they were discussing the weather.
Karela stared at her in disbelief. “What?” she hissed, her voice shaking with anger and humiliation even as her body sank down onto her discarded armor, her legs spreading of their own accord. “You can’t be serious.”
Amanar's smile was infuriatingly calm. “Oh, but I am. I want to see the mighty Red Hawk come undone.”
Karela’s hands clenched into fists at her sides, her body trembling with the effort to resist the sorcerer’s command. But her legs spread wider, her back arching slightly, her body betraying her once again. She could feel the cool air on her most intimate parts, could feel the heat building within her despite her best efforts to resist.
“Please,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “Don’t make me do this.”
It galled her to her core that she had been reduced to begging but she could see no other way out. Amanar said nothing, instead watching ravenously as the Red Hawk's hand crept towards her pussy, her fingers tracing the outer lips, feeling their warmth, their wetness.
“Don’t,” she whispered, but her words were cut short as her fingers delved inside her, slick with her own juices. Her breath hitched, her hips lifting off the ground as she rubbed her clit, the raw sensation sending jolts of pleasure through her. She gritted her teeth, trying in vain to resist even as her body writhed on the floor as she fingered herself relentlessly. She could feel her orgasm building, her body tensing up with every stroke of her fingers against her clit. She could feel the heat of her desire pooling between her legs, could feel her body yearning for release.
Karela could feel her body betraying her with every word he spoke. She had been reduced to nothing more than a puppet, strings pulled by an unseen hand, forced to perform acts she never would have chosen. But despite the humiliation, despite the anger and fear that raged inside her, she could feel her body responding.
Her nipples were hard, her pussy throbbing, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. She could feel the wetness between her legs, the heat building with every stroke of her fingers.
"Stop," Amanar ordered.
Karela's hand froze, her fingers still buried deep inside her.
She glared at Amanar, her eyes blazing with hatred and humiliation. "What do you want from me, you fucking bastard?" she snarled.
Amanar smiled, a slow, predatory grin that sent a shiver down her
spine. "I want you to reposition yourself so that you ejaculate on your face. Open your mouth and swallow every drop ." Amanar's command was cold, devoid of any emotion, as if he were ordering a drink at a tavern rather than instructing a woman to debase herself.
Karela's body complied, her limbs moving against her will. She turned onto her back, her legs bending at the knees, her feet flat on the floor. Her right hand moved to her pussy, her fingers immediately finding her clit and beginning to rub it in tight, urgent circles. Her left hand clasped her left breast, her thumb and index finger pinching the nipple, rolling it between them.
"You sick, depraved fuck," the Red Hawk snarled even as she felt herself dancing on the edge of an explosive orgasm.