The Taking of Rhianna by Edward C. Francis Rhianna, a tavern wench with an attitude, encounters a mysterious swordsman - who has peculiar designs for her. Rhianna! The voice, sharp and female, disturbed the young lass from her quiet slumber. Sleepily, she opened her eyes to find herself standing alone on a sandy dune overlooking the ocean. The night mist had descended silently, covering the entire coast in a cool, eerie stillness. She slowly turned around and saw the distant lights of her village twinkling mutely in the haze. Her ears were soothed by the soft rushing sounds of the sea as it gently rolled against the coastline. Rhianna, come! Her breath was ice in her throat. The voice called her again! It seemed to come from everywhere at once. Wary green eyes searched the dim coast in front of her, but could not find a soul. She quickly spun around to see if she was being approached from behind. The village lights continued to twinkle, but no shadows came forth from the surrounding mist. Slowly, warily, the maiden turned back to face the sea. The surf had gotten more restless now, a silvery sheet of water twisting and turning in the misted moonlight. A small breeze suddenly sprang to life from the surf, enveloping her in its cool moisture. The kiss of the sea! Tilting her head back, Rhianna inhaled the kiss deeply, filling her delicate nostrils with the subtle, exotic aroma of the sea. As she inhaled the soothing scent, her extremities began to tingle with a strange electricity It came from the sea. She realized as such. Only the cool sea could be so commanding, so female, so stern, its proud waves marching up into the coastline. She knew it from childhood as an old friend, when she loved to play in the waves. Come! The voice rose on the sea breeze, as it wrapped about her face. She found herself moving forward, towards the proud ocean. As she went down the dune, she noticed something strange. She stopped suddenly. Something was missing. Looking down, she saw her bare arms and breasts glowing a silvery peach. "By the Goddess!" she quietly swore. Her wary eyes wandered over the dunes to see if anyone spotted her nude form in the moonlight, but no one was there. Come, Rhianna, come to me now! The voice was relentless, floating on the cries of the surf as it doggedly pounded into the coastline. She could feel the cool sea wind wrapping about her naked body, embracing it in a film of salty moisture. She found the experience quite arousing and sensual. Excited, she strolled towards her insistent mistress. She approached the smooth expanse where the coastline met the sea, she felt her toes sink into the wet sand. Water played about her feet and ankles. As she went on, the sea began to inch up her bare sides and her waist. She moaned in pleasure as she felt the cool water rush against her sex and tickle her pulsing clit. Suddenly the water became still. Rhianna stopped. In her heart was the beginnings of fear as everything became eerily calm. The voice became solemn and intoned rhythmically: Rhianna, Rhianna, red flower of the sea. A rose of steel shall ye be. Without warning, an icy gust of wind blew over her. Rhianna shivered in its coldness and felt her body becoming hard and rigid. She felt her feet disappear into the seabed. Unable to move, she screamed in agony as hard metal thorns ripped from her sides and vines sprouted from her sex. Her long hair twisted in the wind and then exploded into scarlet petals, shimmering in the baleful moonlight... Rhianna... "Rhianna! For heaven's sake girl! Wake up!" Reality and imagination collided in sparks. She awoke to find herself back in her room. A stray sunbeam shone through the dingy window and landed on the weathered face of her anxious father. His callused hands gripped her shoulders. "Ye were screaming, lass. Be ye allright?" His bright blue eyes were filled with worry and concern. The beautiful maiden smiled. "All's well, papa." She called him by his favorite nickname. "Just had a strange dream, tis all." Papa sighed in relief. "Aye. Strange dreams may come and go, but remember, life stays with ye" Papa lovingly kissed her on the forehead, running a hand through her thick hair. He beamed at her. "Now get ye'self dressed, lass. Ye must serve our guests the breakfast Voldynia has cooked for them." He smiled and kissed her cheek. As he turned to leave, Rhianna noticed her elder sister for the first time. She stood in the doorway, cruel mouth twisted in a sneer of utter contempt. Voldynia was almost the opposite of her younger sister, her eyes an icy blue, unlike Rhianna's green, and Rhianna often found herself wondering if Voldynia was really a wicked fairy child secretly swapped for her real sister, for she was so cold and mean to her, even since they both were little. "Lazy wench," Voldynia hissed between clenched teeth. "While ye've idled ye'self with ye strange dreams, I've been up since before sunrise, working and slaving." Rhianna snorted. "How can ye be working so hard and yet find the time to pester me with insults?" Rising out of her bed, she balled her pale hands into huge fists. "Now I say if ye have time for insults, ye have time for a fight. Do ye want to fight me? If not, begone. I'm sure ye can find more work to do." "Papa's favorite!" Voldynia spat. And with that the blonde cook fled quickly from the room, her skirts trailing behind her. Voldynia may have been the older of the two, but the fiery-tempered Rhianna grew to be the bigger and stronger woman by far, and in the past easily overpowered her sister when they fought. Sighing with relief, Rhianna shut the door. While she would have enjoyed chastising the wench yet one more time, Rhianna had to save her strength for serving and cleaning the tavern. Draped over her bedpost lay her serving clothes. As she gathered them up, she felt a clammy chill slowly creep up her spine. Her mind anxiously turned to thoughts of the eerie dream. How bright the moon was that shone over the coast! She recalled the strong, salty scent of the sea (does one smell in a dream?) and most memorable of all thought of the pain, the awful, unbearable pain of her transformation. The maiden rose, casting an uncertain glance at the mirror on the wall. Thankfully, she saw only the image of a young woman, clad in her nightgown of homespun cotton, clothing folded in her arms. No thorns or vines sprouted from her body. Her soft auburn curls did not blossom into petals. Curiously, Rhianna drew nearer, peering closely at the face reflected in the mirror. Her fair skin was even paler than usual, giving her bright green eyes and longish nose a somewhat ghastly appearance. Her pouty lips curved downward in a worried frown, which disappeared as a smile spread quickly over her ashen face. It was naught but a dream after all. A strange dream that came and went. And life continues on. "Rhianna!" yelled her father from the hallway. "What is keeping ye? We have guests to serve and they canna wait!" Rhianna sighed. "I'll be down inna minute, Papa!" she shouted as she hurriedly slipped out of her gown. Strange dream or no, there were a roomful of guests to serve and as usual they were more preoccupied with getting food in their fattening bellies than the strange dreams of serving wenches. Some things never change. "Some things never change," mused Corleon to himself. The familiar aromas of meat and fruit floated in the bustling village streets as vendors peddled their fresh produce from the harvests. As he gently nosed his horse amidst the noisy crowd he saw many a ragged beggar and stout vendor pause, their mouths agape and their eyes shining with the usual amazement and curiosity as they gazed at the dark-skinned interloper and his companions that had suddenly appeared within their midst. "Now be careful, Arul," spoke Corleon softly, These palefaced fellows have never seen anybody like us before. No doubt we must look strange to them." "As they do to me," snorted Arul. He slapped a burly hand against the pommel of his rapier in disgust. "Common paleface rabble. I can not believe that you, Corleon al-Karazim, finest swordsman in our lands, be actually drawn to this ... impoverished backwater!" Corleon pointed towards the nearby coast. "See? The shore is exactly as I dreamt it, Arul. Sands of marble, the dunes like camel's humps. This is no doubt the village that we seek." His coal-black eyes glinted with mischief as he grinned. "Wherein resides the woman I shall Take." Arul was not convinced. "Pah!", he spat. "The woman in your dreams was of legendary beauty, that which would rival the queens of our land! Such beauty is only found within the prestigious! How can you think of finding such beauty amongst this provincial, unrefined peasantry?" Still grinning, the swordsman looked sideways at Arul. "Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, old friend. Your eyes have weakened, become soft by the palaces and courtyards that you guarded so well as captain. They used to admire women of strength, now they admire only wealthy, elegant women, smelling of perfume and reeking of noble birth." He chuckled as he wiped his brow with a silken handkerchief. "The woman who I am now destined to Take shall rise in the future to be a...challenge. She has a warrior's spirit, untamed by the trappings of civility. Like these people, she is a hardy flower, grown of the earth and sea." "Heh." Arul snickered. "A poetic way to describe a weed." The smallish and shadowy man riding behind Arul roared with laughter, as Corleon flushed with frustration, his chocolate-brown skin turning a shade of gray. "Be quiet, both of you!" hissed the swordsman angrily. He sighed as felt his stomach rumble angrily. The smell of food filled his nostrils and it made his rumbling all the more worse. "I'm getting quite hungry," he said. "How about you fellows?" Arul nodded stiffly. "We haven't eaten since morning, so I suppose we might as well look for a place to eat and rest here." Corleon gave a sidelong glance at his friend. "That must have been really hard for you to say that," he smirked. Arul glowered. "You'll never know," he said icily. The smallish man at the rear spurred his horse forward, alongside of Corleon. "Sorry to interrupt your repartee, gentlemen," he interrupted, "But I see an inn up ahead. And it looks in relatively good shape. Might we stop there?" Corleon looked at the inn. It was in good shape, the walls were solid, and it looked like a prosperous place. "I'm for it, Martel." he said. "Arul?" Arul grunted in agreement. "Probably the only decent place in this disease-ridden town," he muttered. The three men pulled their horses to a halt in front of the inn. Opening the inn doors was the innkeeper, a stout smiling redfaced man with plump cheeks and cheery blue eyes. His smile grew wider as he looked upon the three travelers. It wasn't often that he received guests as prosperous as the three men before him that leisurely sat on their magnificent steeds. "G'day to ye, kind sirs," he greeted them. "Ye look like ye've traveled a long way to get here." Atop his horse, Corleon nodded and smiled pleasantly. "We have indeed, good neighbor, and are quite weary. We could do with a room and some good food." The innkeeper nodded. "Aye ye look fain near famished. It would be an honor to have distinguished travelers such as yourselves be my guests. Our rooms are small, but you will find our service more than compensates for the room size. And my talented daughter, Voldynia, makes the best meat pies in the land!" Corleon grinned. "That sounds rather good. We don't carry much in the way of belongings as a rule, and I am anxious to sample your cuisine." Out of the corner of his eye, Corleon could see Arul's face twisting into a sneer of disgust. "We would very much like to stay here.", he continued. The innkeeper smiled. "Terrific. I shall fetch the stableboy for ye horses." As he disappeared into the inn, the three riders dismounted from their horses. Arul opened his mouth to protest, but Corleon raised a hand. "Be still, Arul. For being a valiant captain, sometimes you yammer like a old woman. Silence." When the innkeeper returned he was accompanied by a towheaded youth. The boy gazed in amazement at the black strangers before him. Rubbing the boy's hair affectionately, Corleon put 5 pieces of silver in his hand. "Take good care of these horses. That's a good lad." The innkeeper looked after the boy with affection. "My nephew he is," he smiled. "Loves horses. No worries, he'll take good care of them for ye. They'll be right and ready for ye when ye leave. And now ye must eat. The dining room is this way, if ye'll follow me, m'lords." He led them through the small foyer. In the distance, there were the sounds of silverware clicking and shouted conversations. They stopped at the entrance of the large dining room. Inside, several people were eating noisily. At the far corner of the room, Corleon saw four men sitting at a table. They drank deeply from their tankards and sang noisily about campaigns fought long ago and women long remembered. "Rhianna, come here!" shouted the innkeeper amongst the din. "Come greet our newest guests!" Across the dining room, a tall redhaired girl set her tray down on a nearby table and, lifting her skirts, anxiously bounded towards the innkeeper and his guests, her ample breasts jiggling slightly underneath her tight bodice as she ran. She still held her skirts as she stopped in front on the guests. A brief smile on her soft lips, the strapping amazon curtsied with surprising grace towards the strangers. The innkeeper beamed, his round face glowing in fatherly pride. "And this eager, lovely lass is Rhianna, my younger daughter," he said proudly. "She'll gladly take care of ye and serve ye well." "Indeed," remarked the swordsman. "I would like that very much." He found himself staring at the lovely lass before him. The young virago was only a few inches shorter than the swordsman himself, her fiery red mane loosely wrapped in a thick braid circling her head. His mouth twisted in a lecherous grin as he admiringly swept his eyes over her every inch of her body, her sumptuous bosom and wide, flaring hips, adoring the strength that lay in her powerful arms and shoulders. Such a strong, beautiful woman! Smiling, Rhianna blushed under the black nobleman's lusting gaze. Corleon knew it was not due to her embarrassment or modesty; her smile was too confident and her bright green eyes sparkled with a keen interest "That is a beautiful sword ye have, m'lord." she said, steel in her soft voice. Grinning, the swordsman arched an eyebrow. "Since when did serving wenches have a fancy for rapiers?", he asked inquisitively. Before the girl could respond, the embarrassed innkeeper motioned her silent with an anxious wave of his hand. Turning to Corleon, he spoke quickly, words tumbling from his nervous mouth. "Pay it no mind, m'lord Ye must excuse me daughter. She has some strange likings." Corleon chuckled, stroking his thin goatee appreciatively. "Of that I have no doubt, neighbor." The serving wench fell silent, but continued to gaze with intrigue at the nobleman. Sighing, the innkeeper nudged Rhianna with his elbow. "For heaven's sake, cease flirting with our guests, Rhianna, and show them to their table." "Right this way, m'lords," said Rhianna. Smiling, she gave Corleon a wink, then turned to show the travelers to their table. The three followed the large serving girl in silence. A few diners turned their heads to look at the strange travelers from a distant land, but Corleon blithely ignored their glances as he walked by them, his charcoal eyes followed Rhianna's hips as they gently swayed back and forth, making her skirts swish slightly. Martel and Arul walked a little bit behind Corleon. Grinning, Martel winked at Arul. The brawny captain nodded. "Perhaps," he mouthed silently. The three men were led to a sturdy wooden table. As they sat down, Corleon asked for meat pies and wine. "As ye wish, m'lord," said Rhianna. Curtsying again, the servant girl hurried away. Arul's brown face twisted in disgust. "Meat pies and wine? How vulgar. No nobleman worth his salt should eat such primitive food." "Oh cease your complaining, Arul" said Martel. "After all, we're not here just to eat meat pies." Martel wolfishly leered at the serving girl as she flitted from table to table. "She's a nice one, I'll grant. Nice one indeed." He stroked his chin. "So much for your weed, Arul", grinned Corleon. Arul gave him a skeptical look. "She is indeed beautiful, Corleon, but time will tell us whether her spirit is as true as her beauty." The food arrived, and the trio ate and drank heartily. It had felt like eons since they last ate, and even Arul ate with a fervor and said little about eating such a vulgar thing as meat pies. There were more shouts coming from the drunks in the corner. "More drink!", yelled one of them, a scraggly man of middle age. His old, tattered clothes were soiled with dirt and drink, and his stubble- covered face bellowed out obscenities. "Hurry up, wench, me cup is fain near dry!" From the kitchen hurried Rhianna carrying two pitchers of wine on a steel tray. Smiling foolishly, she set it down and amidst the drunk's abusive language, filled the tankards of his companions. Turning to the drunk, her grin grew even more insipid. "Oh, and ye want some drink too?" Her movement was extremely slow as she picked up the pitcher and poured the wine. As she turned to leave, the foul-mouthed drunkard leaned and gave Rhianna's rump a hard smack. "Next time be ye quick about it, wench," he gloated as his comrades tittered. Rhianna stood stock still, her beautiful face hardening. Now there was more than a hint of danger in her green eyes. Corleon and his friends stopped eating, turning to look at the scene with building interest. "Why're you standing there, wench? Ye want yet another lesson?" demanded the drunk. His loud sharp laughter filled the room, and now everybody seemed to be looking at the redhaired serving lass, who nonchalantly set her tray down on a nearby table. She turned around, smiling seductively at him. "Kind sir, it would seem that ye want to learn as much as teach." Placing her hands over her breasts, she slowly rubbed them, squeezed them together, almost making them pop out of her dress. "And there is so much I can teach ye," she said. With that, the redhaired lass proudly stuck her chest out, so that the drunkard could get a better view of her breasts straining against the material. They looked so inviting. He looked at them lustfully, almost unable to control himself. A bulge could be seen in his sagging trousers. "By the Gods, I would fain love to learn," he said, and eagerly clawed at her breasts. She teasingly slapped away his hands like he was a little boy.. "No, no, no. Not like that. Ye need to know the proper way to handle a lady." "And what is the proper way, ye wench?" asked the drunkard menacingly, stepping closer to her. Her smile grew cold. "With caution." Without warning, she stepped back and threw a roundhouse punch at the drunk. It caught him full in the jaw, sending him spinning into a nearby table laden with food. Meat pies and wine spilled onto the wooden floor. Corleon nearly fell out of his chair with amazement at this sudden display of aggression. Collecting himself, he watched as the serving wench grabbed the dazed hooligan and threw him across the room and into another table with a loud crash. After he lay there coughing for a while, the drunk slowly gathered himself. Using a chair to help himself up, he looked at Rhianna with undefinable rage. He growled and muttered something incomprehensible then picked up the chair that he used to help himself up and raised it over his head. Cursing vehemently, he ran at the servant girl at full tilt. Hand on the hilt of his rapier, Arul began to rise from his seat, but Corleon motioned his friend to be still. They mustn't interfere in this spectacle. The drunk was scant inches away from the girl when she nimbly leapt to the side, letting him run right past her. As he slowly turned around, Rhianna sprang into action. She grabbed his chair with her left hand, ripping it from his surprised grasp. At the same time she slammed her right fist into his face again. Dropping the chair she punched him hard two times in his pudgy belly, knocking the wind from his lungs. Dazed, the hooligan wavered unsteadily on rubbery legs, then crumpled over a table. Corleon grinned. "I think she can take care of herself just fine, Arul." He resumed eating, his dark-brown eyes still focused on the scene before him. Firmly grabbing the beaten ruffian by the scruff of his neck, Rhianna lifted him up a bit, then pulled his tussled hair, snapping his bloodied head back. "Tis a pity," she said matter-of-factly, "I dinna think ye've fully learned your lesson about women, so I shall have to strike your head against every table in this room, until you do so." At that, she slammed the drunkard's head into the table which fell with a whump. Pulling him by his hair, the redhaired maiden leisurely dragged him to another table, raised his head over the table, and slammed it down hard against the tabletop. Wincing, Arul counted the tables in the room. "She has a lot of tables to go," he muttered ruefully. At the fourth table, the drunk had finally lost consciousness. Nearby, the kitchen door swung open, the innkeeper and a tall blonde dressed in cooking clothes ran in. "Rhianna!" shouted the innkeeper. "We heard some noise. Are ye - By the Gods!" "I am fine, papa," grinned Rhianna. The girl was still holding the hooligan by his hair. She casually released her grip, letting the drunk fall face first to the floor with a sickening thud. "I was just giving our friend here a little lesson in manners. As in how to approach a lady." She nudged the beaten man's body with her foot. Kneeling, the innkeeper turned over the drunk and saw huge bruises across his face. Blood spurted from his nose which was squashed like an egg. The innkeeper sighed and shook his head as he wiped the man's face with his kerchief. Once finished, he rose and faced his younger daughter. "Heavens, Rhianna," he scolded. "Ye dinna think ye were playing a little bit too hard with him?" "Not in the slightest," smiled Rhianna. "I told him I was going to bang his head against all of the tables in the inn, but I was only going to bang it against four tables. That's more than enough." She knelt by the drunk's body. "Look, papa, see how calm he is now. So nice and peaceful." A mischievous grin crept across her face. "Methinks he has learned his lesson." She eagerly lifted the head of her helpless victim, and face flushed with excitement, pressed the drunk's battered face against her large, heaving breasts. As his stubbly beard tickled the soft skin of her bosom Rhianna could feel her nipples hardening in arousal underneath her blue dress. Humming softly to herself, the serving girl seemed not to care that everyone, including her father, was watching her with total shock and disbelief as she continued to rub the drunk's ruddy face against her exquisite breasts. "His 'reward' for the lesson. Tis a pity he isn't awake to receive it." she laughed gently as she pushed the man's broken nose deep into her cleavage. Unable to restrain herself the elder daughter suddenly swooped down and grabbing the tousled locks of the drunk, angrily tore his head from Rhianna's grasp. "Look at this! Look at all this," she yelled, indicating the damaged tables and chairs, the spilled food on the floor. "Rhianna, ye are no woman, ye brute in women's clothing. You assault the customers, you wreck the inn that we worked so hard to build, and now you shame all of us and this poor man. How could ye - " "Be still, Voldynia," snapped Rhianna. Standing up, her hands on her hips, she glared contemptuously at her sister. "This 'poor man' is naught but a childish ruffian." Her green eyes blazed in the afternoon sun. Unlike you, 'dear' sister, I do not tolerate the affections of ruffians. There is a reason papa put you behind the kitchen doors, so drunks would stop coming in here and - " "That's enough!" shouted the innkeeper. "The both of ye always arguing. Well I'll have none of it, making a scene and all. Voldynia, get back to the kitchen. And Rhianna, since ye had enough fun with your plaything, toss him out into the street, then clean up this place." Voldynia gave Rhianna a look that could freeze molten steel. She spoke in a low voice, "I will not allow you to wreck this place any further. You have taken a lot from me, and now you have shamed me. By all that's holy, you will come to regret this, sister." Rhianna's voice was just as low. "Just living with ye is regret enough for me." The two women eyed each other coldly for what seemed to be a while, then Voldynia turned on her heel and stormed off towards the kitchen, closely followed by Papa, who was pleading with his eldest daughter to understand that Rhianna was only playing with the riffraff, to show them that women are not trifles. Rhianna looked after them as they left. Then she casually picked up her toy by the scruff of his neck. "Enough of ye. Time to leave," she muttered to the drunk who was still unconscious. Corleon and his men could barely control themselves as they saw the spectacle of Rhianna defeating and then playing with her drunk male opponent. The black swordsman trembled with delight as he saw her smother the drunk with her delicious ivory breasts. He secretly envied the drunk, he was willing to pay such a price as he did, for such a sweet reward. As Rhianna effortlessly dragged the drunk man out of the dining room, he could see her hips were still swaying, teasing, as if nothing had happened. Taking a sip from his wine, he looked at the door the vibrant spitfire walked through. If he had any doubts before, they vanished like the wind. Strong, aggressive, yet graceful of motion, Rhianna was most certainly the lady in his dreams, the lady whom he shall Take. His compatriots looked on, amazement clearly on their faces. There was no doubt that they began to change their minds about this backwater little town. It was a short while before Rhianna returned to the dining room, casually dusting off her hands in loud smacks. The guests slowly began to resume eating, but Corleon did not touch his food, his admiring eyes were still focused on the feisty virago. Suddenly the girl stopped, and spinning on her heel turned to face the swordsman. Thrusting out her chest and planting her feet, she looked him straight in the eye. Corleon could see that her emerald eyes were alight with fire from the fight before, Yet there was something else - a spark of intrigue he saw earlier. "Care to play?" cooed the redhaired girl mockingly, the sound of her large knuckles cracking filled the tense air. Corleon displayed a casual grin, but inside the black man was boiling over with arousal at this sudden challenge. She wanted to fight him! Well, he shall respond to her invitation with pleasure! After all, he was not a drunken bum, but a determined warrior bent on one goal. Slowly rising to his feet, he unbuckled his sword belt. It has been some time since he fought barehanded, but he was willing to teach this lovely hellion a thing or two. Rhianna moved back a bit towards the center of the room, as if showing where the bout would take place. A hush fell around the room as Corleon began to leave his table. Quickly sensing what was about to happen, Arul grabbed his companion by the sleeve, pulling him down. "No! Not before the Taking," he whispered hastily. "It will be bad luck otherwise. She must be Taken first." Hunched over, Corleon looked at the floor briefly in contemplation, realizing the transgression that he almost caused. He nodded to Arul, who released his grip, allowing him to stand. Bowing in Rhianna's direction, he shook his head. She gave a somewhat disappointed look as Corleon went to his chair. It was not like most men to refuse such a brazen challenge. Perhaps another time, then. She shrugged and went to clean up the mess. Corleon sat down, never taking his eyes off her as she cleaned. A cold smile played across his face. "And Taken she shall be," he said quietly to himself. It was late in the afternoon when Rhianna walked out into the now empty dining room. She was always fascinated by this place, its wooden walls adorned with shields, the big vaulted fireplaces. She sat at a table and undid her braid, letting her bright red hair fall on her bare shoulders. Turning, she found her attention was drawn to the table where the strange trio ate. She had never seen people like them in these parts before, their hair like wool, skin a rich deep chocolate. Eyes like coal. The man with the scar on his face was particularly intriguing. He wasn't like many of the other men that passed through here that admired her sensuous beauty. There was something deeper in this man's admiration of her. It was there in his response to her open invitation to fight. He had a calculating, smooth movement that was almost sensual in nature. The ruffians she bounced around here were mere toys. She knew they were defeated before she even fought them - so blinded by lust and twisted by drink were they. But she definitely wasn't so sure with this fellow. A definite challenge he would be. Smiling wistfully, she thought about what would it be like to fight him, his dark brown sinews straining against her own muscles. Her right hand gently rubbed against her crotch, as if she was holding a man's head there, pressing it into her nether regions. Her lovely face flushing with arousal, she imagined his smooth face against her crotch, becoming slick with her warm, erotic juices. A soft moan escaped her lips. It would be so delicious to defeat him so, and then she could claim him as her own. A creaking interrupted her erotic reverie. She heard people walking around upstairs. Rhianna knew that Papa was showing the strangers to their room above. So it would seem that they are planning to spend at least a few nights here. She smiled. That would be good. "Good heavens!" sighed the innkeeper as he entered the room. "How hectic this day is turning out to be. Can never find enough time to rest with all this carrying on." He sat down beside his daughter. "And those newcomers. Strange men, are they not?" "Indeed", remarked Rhianna. "What are they here for?" "They seem to be travelers," said the innkeeper. "Their country sent them on an expedition to map this region." Rhianna frowned. "Yet, they have no guides. You canna travel the Scotian hills without a guide." "Their mapmaker, Martel, has a fair knowledge of this region," said the innkeeper. I imagine he probably has been up this way before, although I don't remember seeing him or his friends - and I would remember them." "As would I," said Rhianna wistfully. She looked back at the table where the strangers sat. "As would I." Upstairs in their quarters, Corleon was stretched out on his simple bed, looking at the ceiling. He heard Arul stomping about angrily, back and forth in the room, but he paid it no mind - he had much to plan. "And we have to sleep in these things," groused Arul as he kicked over a cot. Corleon's eyes remained fastened on the ceiling. "Well, you should not need to worry, Arul," he said, a placating smile on his lips. "If all goes well, in the evening we'll be sleeping on the ground instead." "We intend to Take the girl tonight?" Arul stopped pacing. Pulling his "Of course," grinned the swordsman. With a final stretch of his slender, yet muscled arms, he moved up off the bed. "It is always best to Take as soon as you can. No pause, no regrets. It's better for her that way." "How is that so?" asked Arul in disbelief. Corleon shrugged tiredly. "It just is, Arul," he said. "I can't explain it." On the table there was a large burlap sack, big enough for one person, even one as big as his intended prize. "Yes, that will do quite nicely," he muttered. Martel entered the room, silently closing the door behind him. As always, his movements were crouched and stealthy, as if he was trying his best to melt into the shadows. Arul settled in a nearby chair as Corleon sat up in his bed. "How goes it, Martel?", he asked "It goes well," responded the shadowy figure, and sat down in a chair. Eyebrows knitting in puzzlement, Martel briefly looked at the overturned cot. "Has our Arul been in a tantrum?" Arul scowled and moved to protest, but Corleon raised his hand. "That's not important right now. Did you get a lay of the area?" Martel's voice grew low and conspiratorial as he leaned forward. "I located the quarters of the serving girl. They are below us, in the back of the house. There is only one entrance. But we can sneak in through the window. Or pick the lock." Stroking his goatee, the fencing master carefully weighed the options. "If her bed faces the window, she may be able to see us enter from that way Picking the lock may be the best option. The only question is getting past the servants and the innkeeper. But how do we do that?" There was a knock on the door. Sliding the bag underneath the bed, Corleon nodded in silence, signaling for Martel to open the door. Arul reached for his knife that lay on the table near the cot. Smiling, Voldynia stood framed in the doorway, wearing the simple brown dress of a cook. She gave a warm curtsy. "Good day, m'lords. Are your rooms in order?" "Yes they are," said Corleon. "Good, then may I come in?" Pushing her thin, lithe body brusquely past Martel, she entered the room. Surprised, Arul instinctively rose from his seat, dagger in hand. "No, Arul!" Corleon's voice was stern. "Put it down." Grudgingly, Arul put the dagger down on the table. "A smart move," said Voldynia gravely. "A smart move indeed." Corleon noticed the change in Voldynia's tone of voice. Her voice was soft, and yet had a chilling edge to it - the voice of a practiced conspirator. "Is there anything we can do for you?", he asked innocently. The corners of the blond woman's mouth turned upwards in a cunning grin. "Indeed there is, kind sir," she slyly answered. Waving her hand in an imperious fashion, she gestured for Martel to close the door behind him. She let out a tsk as she looked at the overturned cot. Righting it, the woman sat down on the cot and motioned for the three men to come nearer. As they approached her, she spoke in a whisper. "You see, I have been keeping a close eye on you ever since I saw you look at Rhianna in a queer manner this afternoon. For a bunch of travelers, you sure seem an interesting lot." Corleon smiled gently. "It is no secret that traveling men often crave women of faraway lands. The endless time spent in the company of men often does that." "Yes indeed, " said Voldynia. "But there are travelers, and then there are slavers." Corleon frowned. "Slavers? I'm not sure what you mean." "I believe you know exactly what I mean," Voldynia's sly grin grew even more wicked. "I am familiar with your people's customs, Corleon al- Karazim, and I know about your Taking rituals." "Corleon! She knows!" screamed Arul, making a mad dash for the dagger at the table. Grabbing it, he slowly approached the blonde cook, his eyes were bleak as he raised the dagger overhead to strike. "Wait! I beseech you!" implored Voldynia. Her eyes were alive with fear as she looked from Arul to Corleon's impassive face. "Please! There is no need for violence." Arul looked questioningly at his trusted companion. Corleon motioned to Arul to stand down, then turned to Voldynia. "And why is there no need for violence, Voldynia?", he asked. "After all, the Taking is conducted in secret, no one knows about it and lives, except for those the suitor deems as trustworthy." Voldynia smiled, relieved that the foreigner wanted to at least hear her out. "And those who assist are trustworthy, am I correct?", she asked. Folding her hands in her lap, she looked Corleon straight in the eye. "I want to help ye in the taking of my younger sister." she said matter-of-factly. Surprised, Arul almost dropped his dagger. "A woman helping out in the Taking? That's never been heard of." "A first time for everything," said Voldynia evenly. Corleon looked at her gravely. "You realize what the Taking is? You will lose your sister, and probably shall never see her again. Why are you willing to do this?" Voldynia grinned. "Oh, I have my reasons, I assure ye, but they are of no importance. What is important is I want her gone from this house, as much as ye want to have her." Intrigued, the swordsman stroked his goatee. "And how may you help us," he asked. Grinning, the cook reached into her dress and took out a vial containing a powdery substance. "Tonight I shall see to it that ye will brook no interference from my father and the servants. I shall also bring ye Rhianna's key." Corleon nodded. "Indeed. And what do you ask for this?" "Twenty silver florins," she answered evenly. The swordsman frowned. "That is an awfully cheap price to sell your sister," he remarked as handed her the money. "I just want her gone by tonight, Corleon." Voldynia turned to leave. "And no worries - I'll not fail ye. May your Taking be successful." Turning around, she curtsied, almost mockingly, then closed the door behind her. Corleon turned to his men. "Well, what do you think," he asked them, "Do we include her in our plans or not?" Martel nodded anxiously. "I don't think we have much of a choice. Besides, she seems to want Rhianna gone as you want to have her." Arul frowned as he was lost in thought. "I don't trust her at all, but Martel has a point. We cannot back out now." Corleon nodded. "It is settled then. We enact our plan tonight, with the help of Voldynia, of course." The moon hung high in the sky when Rhianna settled into her pale nightgown. She looked into the small mirror, admiring herself for a while, then she crawled into bed. As she lay there she thought about dinner earlier that evening. The strange man supped alone that night. She felt disturbed, yet strangely aroused by the rapacious look he gave her, his eyes caressing her breasts, her sides, even exploring her nether regions underneath her serving dress. She held herself tightly, and closing her eyes, she went to sleep. Rhianna...Rhianna... That voice again! Opening her eyes, she immediately found herself on the beach, not too far from her village. The moon was extremely bright, giving the landscape an almost daytime glow. As she looked down, she realized that once again, she was naked. Rhianna, come! It was of no surprise that the sea was calling her. She stepped boldly down the dune and into the sand, walking towards the sea. She stepped into the icy cool water, feeling aroused as it slid up her sides and chilled her bare bottom. She looked heavenward. The next words came, as expected. Rhianna, Rhianna, red flower of the sea. A rose of steel shall you be. She braced herself confidently as the wind blew over her and her skin became hard. Her hair twisted, flattened into petals, and she winced as her arms grew into vines. Her sex throbbed and ached as she felt thorny vines grow from it. She was slowly meeting her destiny, transforming into an exotic flower of metal, and she reveled in it, feeling herself become a thing of such priceless beauty. There was the loud sound of laughter in the air. It grew louder and louder with each passing moment. The Rhianna-flower shivered. From the heavens a huge dark hand reached down from the night sky and its fingers plucked the Rhianna/flower in its grasp! Eyes widening in horror, Rhianna awoke with a start. She felt hands. Strong hands grabbing her wrists and ankles, pinning them onto the bed. Instinctively, Rhianna let out a surprised shriek, which was partially muffled as a rough callused hand clamped itself over her mouth. Breathing heavily through her nose, she picked up the heavy smell of drink. She grunted as her muscles strained feverishly, trying to pull herself free of the grasping hands, but they had too strong a hold on her already. As a result of her struggling, their grip on her hardened, bruising her wrists and ankles. She let out a muffled cry of pain, but did not stop struggling. In the moonlight, she saw a shadowy hand descend over her nose. Its fingers pinched shut her nostrils. A deep panic rose in Rhianna's heart as she suddenly found herself unable to breathe. They were suffocating her! Her body screamed for oxygen, muscles contracted violently, instinctively, in desperation. It wasn't long before a mysterious sensation crept over Rhianna as she was being asphyxiated. Her sex began to throb violently, sending intense waves of pleasure coursing throughout her body, making her thighs shudder uncontrollably in ecstasy. Her breasts quivered, brushing her rock hard nipples against the cotton fabric of her nightgown. Rhianna moaned and trembled violently as dizzying spasms of arousal coursed through her intestines, making the world spin around her. It spun quicker and quicker, until her pussy suddenly erupted in a massive orgasm. She swooned in the white hot explosion of her sex, her body rocking in total ecstasy as she felt an unearthly darkness envelop her. The instant Rhianna shuddered into unconsciousness, Corleon removed his hands from her mouth and nose. He definitely didn't want to kill the beautiful lass whom he would Take. He looked at her lithe body sprawled out on the bed. It looked unnatural, her arms and legs akimbo. A sudden concern swept over him. While he was familiar with the methods of rendering people unconscious, he knew such methods always carried the risk of death. He put his hand on her slender neck and breathed a sigh of relief. The pulse was strong and steady. At least he knew when to stop. Martel, who had been holding down the serving girl's wrists, quickly leapt out of the way as Corleon moved to get a better look at her face in the moonlight. Even unconscious she looked so beautiful, her soft pink lips slightly parted, contrasting with the pale skin. Kneeling, he put his head close to her face. he sighed again in relief as he heard her breath keen softly in her delicate nostrils and felt the warm air against his cheek. "Thank the heavens she's alive," he whispered to Martel as he stood up. Rendering Rhianna unconscious was the most difficult (and risky) part so far, and they had overcome that with no problem. It was a good sign. Corleon nodded to Arul, who wordlessly pulled out two lengths of rope and a large white handkerchief. He gave one of the lengths to Corleon, as well as the handkerchief. Grabbing her wrists, Corleon tied them tightly together, being careful not to cut off her the flow of blood to her hands, as Arul did the same to her feet. Once he was finished, he gently lifted the girl's shoulders, bringing her to a sitting position as her head lolled forward. He tugged at her long hair, pulling her head back so he could gag her with the handkerchief. He tied the handkerchief over her mouth. Corleon looked lustfully at the bound servant girl, her powerful arms and legs tied together with rope. She was strong and yet so totally at his mercy. Nodding, he signaled Arul to pick her up. The brawny man grabbed Rhianna by her waist and in an instant, she was effortlessly slung over his shoulder, her long red hair covering her face. His rapier in hand, Martel stealthily moved to the door and opened it. He peered around the corner, looking for any movement. Seeing none, he quietly stepped out into the hall, motioning for Corleon and Arul to follow him. Corleon went out first, followed by Arul carrying the unconscious Rhianna like a sack over his shoulder. It wasn't long before they managed to reach the back entrance to the inn. The trio carefully crept outside into the warm and humid night. The moon shone bright in the clear sky. A beautiful night for the Taking, mused Corleon. "Come on, the horses are this way," whispered Martel. He quickly ran for the stables, with Corleon and Arul following him, being careful not to slip on the slick grass underneath their feet. Arul kept pace with the swordsman, even though he was burdened with the extra weight of Rhianna. They made the stable entrance. Standing on both sides of the large wooden door, the three men tightly gripped their swords, ready for action. Corleon rested his hand on the door handle and gently pressed it down. There was a muffled click. Pushing forward, he swung the door open inch by inch until it was big enough to enter. Inside, the stable was dimly lit by a lantern which hung on the wall next to the towheaded stable boy, who sat slumped in his chair, eyes closed. Martel approached the boy and prying open an eyelid, he nodded approvingly. He was unconscious, drugged by Voldynia. They found their horses in nearby stalls. Gently soothing the majestic beasts, they began to saddle them, preparing them for the journey ahead. Corleon was the first to get his horse ready. Stepping into the stirrup Corleon climbed upon his saddled steed, loosely tugging the reins. He gently nosed his horse out of the stall. Arul stood outside the stall, waiting for him. A wry smile broke over the face of the man-at-arms when Corleon arrived. "I believe this belongs to you.", he said, and with that, Arul put his sleeping load over Corleon's horse. Taking some extra rope from a nearby stall, Arul fastened the unconscious girl to the horse, so she wouldn't fall off when they galloped. Martel, atop his horse rode out of his stall. Together, the two waited for Arul to come out, and when he did, the three rode their horses out of the stable and into the open land. Spurring their horses to a gallop, they quickly rode out of town with the unconscious Rhianna. Taken. Rhianna slowly awoke, her head pounding. Warm sunlight shone on her face. Squinting, she tried to move a hand to block out the sun, but found that she couldn't. Her hands were bound tight. She tried to wriggle her ankles and found that they also were secured. A creeping chill came over her. Where was she? Turning away from the sun, she looked at her surroundings and her fear turned to astonishment. It was a beautiful room, exquisite paintings hung on the walls and fine statues stood next to the two ivory columns in the far corner of the room. She herself was laying on a large, sumptuous bed, ankles and wrists tied tightly to the bedposts. She was still clad in her nightgown. Groggily, the serving girl tried to recall the events of last night. There was the strange dream, and then...then were the attackers. Her mind became hazy as she tried to remember them. She couldn't see their shadowed faces, could only recall the smell of drink and being unable to breathe - She sensed movement. A gentle rocking movement. Listening intently, she could hear the sounds of waves crashing in the distance. She was obviously in some kind of ship, adrift at sea. Tensing, she waited to see if anybody would come. Several minutes passed, but no one came. Impatiently the angry lass struggled against her bonds. "Hey!" she yelled. "What is the meaning of this?" There was the sound of footsteps in the hall. Rhianna fell quiet as the door opened. A tall, dark, figure strode imperiously into the room, gleaming white teeth set in his shadowy, mischievous grin. He was clad in a loose silken shirt and breeches and his magnificent sword hung loosely in the black leather scabbard at his side. Rhianna's heart leapt in her throat as she realized that it was the black stranger whom just yesterday she had so brazenly challenged. He stopped at the foot of her bed. "Greetings, Rhianna. We have ... 'met' yesterday, but unfortunately I neglected to introduce myself to you. I am Corleon al-Karazim." He bowed gracefully. Shaking violently in her bonds, the young maiden was beside herself with unholy rage. "Release me, ye bastard!" she shouted at her captor. To her indignation, the black man only laughed, sharp, mocking peals echoing in the room. "Oh! So now Her Majesty makes demands," he said. Leaning over her bound form, his face was now so close to hers, their noses almost touched. She could feel his hot breath on her face as he spoke. "Well it would seem to us that you are currently in no position to do so, Rhianna. What do you think?" Rhianna snarled, her green eyes filled with defiance. "Unchain me and see for ye'self, Corleon." she hissed. The swordsman grinned lecherously, a low snicker escaped his lips. "Oh I shall unchain you in due time, but for now I only wish to admire you ... my little rose of steel." Rhianna's eyes widened with sudden astonishment. 'Rose of steel'? No one had ever called her that before. No one except - She felt a sudden chill creep up her spine. "I was only called that in a strange dream I had. How could ye know my dreams? What am I -" Corleon raised a finger to his smiling lips. "Shhhh." he smiled. "Too many questions. All will be explained in due time, my dear." A barely visible bulge grew in the swordsman's trousers as he suddenly pulled a dagger from his waist belt. Rhianna felt her muscles tense in silent fear. Good Heavens, what was he about to do? Dagger in hand he was now at her side. His eyes were calm and gentle, almost soothing. "Don't worry, my dear. This shan't hurt you a bit - if you don't move too much." he chuckled mischievously. Rhianna could barely breathe as he lightly ran his fingers across the velvety muslin collar of her nightgown. "Such a delicate wrapping for a rugged, beautiful flower, isn't it?" mused Corleon. He eagerly pulled at her collar, lifting it just a few inches from her bosom. Rhianna saw only a flash of light as he brought his knife down in a quick swoop, deftly slicing her gown open from bosom to crotch. Another swipe completely split the gown in two. Chuckling, the swordsman excitedly pried open the torn halves of her nightgown, revealing bare skin underneath. The young maiden shivered as her muscled body lay nude under the swordsman's cold, lustful gaze. His dark eyes wandered over her breasts, they admired the taut well-hewn sinews of her arms. They slid over her wide hips as they gradually sloped down into strong, muscular thighs protecting a patch of reddish brown hair. It was as luxuriant as her brilliant auburn hair that spilled about her shoulders, and just as full of the promise of life. Unable to control himself, Corleon ran his hands over her body. Rhianna shuddered involuntarily as he caressed her smooth, flat belly. His hands, while rough, felt surprisingly warm and gentle, as if handling something very delicate. Very delicate indeed! When she was but a child, she bloodied the nose of a village boy who tried to lift up her skirt. Her teeth clenching, Rhianna was no longer scared, but angry. How dare this man lay hands on her without her say!. Muscles straining, the girl violently surged against her bonds. She will not be so easily dominated. She twisted and turned violently, trying vainly to evade his grasping touch. The black swordsman grinned. He cupped her ample breasts with his hands and gave them a gentle squeeze. "I seem to recall you smothering a drunkard with these," said Corleon. He laughed at the memory. "Beautiful Rhianna. Proud Rhianna." As he gently rotated her large breasts, his fingers teasingly brushed and pinched her hardening nipples. "My Rhianna", he smiled. "From this day forth you shall be mine. Mine to do with as I please." As he pinched her nipples, Rhianna felt tingling waves surge from her breasts to her loins. She bit back a moan of pleasure, desperately fighting the temptation to succumb to his caress . No man had ever touched her like that. "You do not own me, ye bastard", she hissed between clenched teeth. Corleon chuckled softly. "Oh, but I shall." A black hand slid down her belly to the inside of her rock-hard thighs. Rhianna flinched as she felt the hand glide over her sex. "I shall own every bit of you, " softly crooned the swordsman He squeezed her mons, sending jolts of electricity up her spine. "Including this." Rhianna let out a slight moan, shivering as Corleon's hand rubbed against her pussy, his fingers brushing her aching clit, making it throb uncontrollably. She breathed sharply through her nose and smelled the musky scent of her arousal. The girl could feel his slender fingers slide between her fleshy nether lips, slick with her own juices. Rhianna blushed with embarrassment as she realized just how wet she was becoming with his treatment of her. The swordsman gently strummed her slippery labia, then slid a teasing fingertip into her sex. Rhianna tried vainly to resist, but as Corleon sloshed his finger around in her molten core, the captive maiden found herself pushing back against his hand. Rhianna's hips bucked wildly she tried to push his finger deeper into her. Oh Goddess, it feels so good. "Mmm," hummed Corleon. "You like this, don't you? I know you want more, but the time is not ripe. After all, you haven't proven yourself." He withdrew his hand from her pussy and standing up straight, wiped his hands with a handkerchief. Grinning, he held the silk cloth to his nose. His smile widened as he inhaled the heady aroma of her juices. "Yours is a beautiful scent, dear Rhianna. A strong, salty smell, like the sea. I think I shall keep this kerchief as a symbol of your Taking." Folding it with exquisite care, he put it into his pocket. "And now you must get dressed." He headed to the door. "She's ready," he called out through the doorway. His two traveling companions entered the room, the brawny man was carrying clothes for the naked girl to wear. Corleon spoke to them briefly, pointing out the bound Rhianna. She blushed violently as the two men turned their gazes towards her. Corleon smiled. "Allow me to introduce my traveling companions. Arul here is my man-at-arms, and Martel is my cousin, and squire." Standing upright, the men bowed stiffly in greeting. "These good men assisted me in your Taking." A cold smirk crossed Rhianna's face. "My, my, my. Aren't you the coward, Corleon al-Karazim," said the maiden mockingly. "You refused my challenge in the tavern, and you could not subdue me without the aid of your cohorts. Why are you so frightened of a mere serving wench?" Stretching, she flexed her bulging arm muscles as best as she could. "Am I more woman than you can handle, you puny man?" Corleon looked at the girl flatly for a moment, then broke out in laughter. "Perhaps you are. We shall see soon enough, feisty one," He motioned to his companions. "But first you must be presentable." said the swordsman. Arul and Martel cautiously approached the bound Rhianna. Rhianna ignored the approaching men, staring straight at Corleon. "Get your servants to do your work for ye," she hissed derisively. "Now there's a good nobleman, afraid to do the work himself. Why don't ye come hither and release me?" She smirked. "Come on, I dare you." She thrust out her chest in defiant pride. The young girl wanted so badly to teach him a lesson. The swordsman grinned slyly, but stood rooted to the spot, unmoving. "I do not fear you, Rhianna, and it takes more than the mere insults of a peasant wench to anger me. My companions will free you and then you will be escorted topside." He lightly tapped the pommel of his rapier. "Oh, and if I were you, I'd try not to think of escape just yet. The crew of this vessel is not composed of drunkards and ruffians, but highly disciplined soldiers and sailors. And even if you do manage to escape us, it's a full three days to shore. So let's be agreeable, shall we?" The two men were indeed highly disciplined, their stone faces disregarded the beauty of their naked captive as they worked on freeing her from her bonds. Once they did so, they stood at rigid attention, their eyes focused warily on her, hands at their sides. Slowly, tentatively, the captured girl sat up, rubbing her chafed wrists and ankles. The clothing she was supposed to wear was laying on a chest a distance away from her. Rhianna seethed. "Do ye mind?" Her voice was sullen. "No, I do not mind at all," grinned the swordsman. "It will be a pleasure to watch you dress." Rhianna's eyes flashed anger and defiance. "I will not dress with ye looking at me!", she yelled. "I simply won't!" "What difference would it make?", asked the swordsman. His dark face bore the slightest hint of annoyance. "You will be mine after all. Now dress! Or do you want to go topside naked? Either way it does not matter." Grabbing the girl firmly by the arms, Arul pulled her off the bed and stood her up. "Enough of this," said Corleon crossly. "your defiance is getting tiresome." He tossed the bundle of clothes at her. "Now dress yourself!" shouted the swordsman. Rhianna almost jumped at the thundering voice. His deep brown eyes were so commanding and intense, she felt a small urge to surrender to him, to acquiesce to him who had captured her, even if it was cowardly how he did so. But by the Goddess, she wasn't going to make it easy. Grabbing the dress she held it against her naked body, then approached Corleon. Looking him square in the eye, she spat at him. Corleon's eyes briefly flashed with total rage, then once again they were calm. He wiped the spit from his cheek. "Such a fiery spirit," he sighed with admiration, looking into her eyes with a longing that was more loving than lustful. To her surprise, the serving girl found herself staring back at him, and deep within his coal-black pupils she could see her tiny reflection. Rhianna did not see the sudden slap that struck her full in the face however, knocking her onto the bed. Her teeth jarred from the harsh blow. Squinting through angry tears, the maiden looked up at Corleon. The swordsman's dark face was still and regretful, as if he had just disciplined a vulgar brat. Rhianna felt her fists clench in anger. Few men had struck her like that, and most of them regretted it, the men feared the fiery haired maiden like a goddess. And all of sudden this stranger comes in and treats her as if she is nothing - no worse than that, as if she is his possession! Her angry tears intensified. Well she will teach him a lesson! Without warning she sprang from her bed at Corleon, reaching for his neck. She was disappointed as he slid to the side, avoiding her outstretched hands. She had just began to recover from her charge when the wind was suddenly knocked out of her. Doubling over in pain, she fell to the floor in shock and embarrassment at her being hit not once but now twice by this stranger who seemed to mock her strength, her courage. "You shouldn't let your anger control you, Rhianna," he spoke gently, his deep voice filled with a sudden compassion. "It can be as big a danger to you as it is to others." He bent down to help the girl up, but she smacked his hands away. "I don't need your help," she cried hoarsely as Arul and Martel stood over her, ready to restrain her at the slightest movement. Corleon picked up the clothes from her bed and handed them to the girl. "Now get yourself dressed," said the swordsmen softly. "On my word, my men and I will make no attempt to disturb you while you do so." Filling her aching lungs with much needed air, the redhaired girl wobbled to her feet. She glared at Corleon with angry, tearfilled eyes as he moved aside to let the humiliated woman pass. Rhianna was angry at the black bastard for striking her, but she was even more angry at herself. How could she have fallen so easily. Corleon was right. Her anger did not prepare her for the shock of being hit, and her pride did not allow her to think of it. How stupid she was not to realize that! Staggering over to a large bay window, she totally basked herself in the warm sunlight. Her back was turned to Corleon. Let them look at me dress, she thought to herself. It serves me right for being foolish. Corleon looked admiringly at the girl's naked form as it stood in the sunlight. He knew that she was punishing herself for what happened. Such a magnificent lady, he thought. So lovely and spirited. She slid the chemise over her body. Standing in the sunlight, her back and buttocks could be seen through the translucent material. As Rhianna bent over to slip into her skirts, her full, round ass swayed invitingly, Corleon saw teasing glimpses of her puckered anus and labia. The serving girl slowly wiggled her covered butt at Corleon for a full minute, enticing the swordsman. Then she slowly pulled up her thick cotton skirt of deep blue, covering her legs and her bottom. Rhianna tied up the tight bodice over her chest, exhaling sharply as it restrained her large breasts, pressing against her erect nipples. Sliding on a pair of long white deerskin gloves, the serving wench turned around to face Corleon. She looked so lovely in the bright sun, her lustrous red hair shining. Her flushed face looked at the swordsman in grudging acceptance, but the dangerous fire in her eyes still lingered. The swordsman looked at her in unbridled desire. The velvet bodice tightly hugged her chest like a second skin, the white tops of her ample breasts nearly spilling over the edge. Her purple skirt, unlike the confining bodice, was nowhere near as restraining. It flowed over her flaring hips and stopped at her feet. "Beautiful. Simply beautiful," Corleon sighed. "Your hair is still somewhat tousled however. And you must look your best. There is a comb and mirror. I shall be seeing you topside." The swordsman stood rigid, and pulled out his rapier. Holding it upright, he saluting the redhaired maiden, bowed stiffly, then effortlessly slid the sword back in its scabbard. Rhianna's breath caught in her throat as his dark, roving eyes looked her over once again. Apparently satisfied, Corleon nodded to Arul and Martel and then spun on his heel and turned to leave. His two companions still stayed with her as she went to the table for the comb and mirror. The men did not move one single bit, and while their eyes fastened upon the girl's every movement their expressions did not change . At first the serving girl thought they were eunuchs, but a glance at the growing bulge in Arul's trousers changed her mind. The lovely lass raised a hand to her mouth and stifled a giggle. They were definitely masculine, just highly disciplined. As the serving girl combed her fiery red mane, she turned her thoughts to the strange man, Corleon al-Karazim. If he can command and recruit soldiers this disciplined, he was definitely a force to be reckoned with. This could prove interesting, she thought. She finished combing the last strands of her into place. Setting down the comb and mirror on the table, Rhianna took a deep breath, and turned to face the men guarding her. "I'm ready", she said evenly. "Now take me to wherever your Corleon is, and let's see what he has in store, shall we?" A smile, small and mocking, crossed her lips as she tauntingly spun on her heel, and head held high, the maiden jauntily strolled out of the room, followed closely by the swordsman's cohorts. In silence, Rhianna was escorted up a small flight of stairs into a narrow passageway. Martel wordlessly motioned the serving girl to enter the dimly lit hall. At the end of the dimly lit hall was a door. Arul stepped forward, the burly man-at-arms opened the door. Beyond was a large room. Her nostrils flaring, Rhianna warily crept into the room - and stood still with amazement. Never in her life had she seen so many weapons! Rapiers, broadswords, spears and axes, the walls were adorned with them. The serving girl could identify many of them, but there were a quite a few she couldn't recognize at all. She marveled at the impressive array of weapons that stretched out all around her. "I see you're enjoying my collection. Impressive, isn't it?" Corleon al-Karazim leaned against a wall in the far corner of the room. "A few of these items were gifts from my comrades, but many of them I've confiscated from vanquished foes. It has become a bit of a tradition with me - if I defeat a foe, I take his or her weapon as a trophy. I find it the most preferable way of displaying a victory." His stride was a smooth, almost silent glide across the wooden floor as he approached Rhianna. He looked over the serving girl in her new dress and smiled appreciatively. "You look nice, but are you comfortable? You must be comfortable." "Depends on your definition of 'comfortable'," remarked the girl. "The dress fits me reasonably well, but I would be indeed more comfortable if I held one of those rapiers you have mounted on this walls.: Corleon's eyes were filled with lust as he smiled, his gleaming white teeth set in his hungry grin. "Beautiful are they not? it allows for the ultimate expression in the art of defence." He tapped the pommel of his sword. "An art that you will soon become very familiar with." Rhianna was very suspicious. Scowling, she said, "I do not understand. Of what are you speaking?" "There is a reason why I bought you here," said Corleon. "I recall you daring me, in your own flamboyant manner, to best you in combat. But I could not fight you at the time, seeing as you had not yet been Taken. But now you are here, with me, and your challenge still stands." He nodded gravely. "I accept it wholeheartedly." "Ye brought me here to fight me?" asked Rhianna, astonished. Corleon smiled. "Not quite, Rhianna. I brought you here, to conquer you. To make you mine. That is why I have Taken you. But I cannot do so without acknowledging your challenge to fight me. It would be most improper." Rhianna nodded, "I see. So I shall fight you then. I hope it will be a fair fight." "I give you my word as a gentleman," said the swordsman solemnly. Scowling, Rhianna wrinkled her nose. "Gentlemen do not kidnap those whom they would fight with," she said derisively. "I apologize for that bit of deception," said Corleon, "But it was necessary, for reasons I will not divulge at this time. Do you still wish to fight? I promise no deceptions." Looking into the eyes of the black stranger, the maiden could see that he was speaking the truth. Rhianna felt her own excitement rise. At last, she had found a worthy male adversary to fight, and possibly to conquer! She nodded as solemnly as she could, trying desperately to suppress her surging excitement. "Good," said Corleon. His own eyes glittered with what seemed to be amusement and excitement. "Now to choose your sword. Take what you wish from the wall." The serving girl looked closely at the ornate array of gleaming swords hanging on the oaken wall. They were all very beautiful, but she felt especially drawn towards a peculiar silver rapier that hung in the center. Upon closer inspection, Rhianna saw it was exquisitely beautiful, its ornamented guard consisting of two steel clam shell halves welded together. Brightly polished it was a marvelous work of art. She picked it up to get a feel for its weight. She expected it to feel heavy for a rapier , but she found she could heft it with ease, it was so surprisingly well balanced. She showed the weapon to Corleon, who smiled approvingly. "You have chosen well," he said. "A good reliable sword, I obtained it from one of your lords after defeating him in a duel. It was a challenging fight as I recall. He was an experienced swordsman, very skilled with the rapier. May his sword serve you faithfully. As for me," he said, tapping the swept-hilt rapier at his side, "I have already chosen my weapon." He picked up a pair of chain-mail gloves on a nearby table and slid them over his chocolate brown hands. "Now without any further ado, shall we go out onto the deck? I don't know about you, but I find the outdoors much more conducive for dueling." With that, Corleon walked to a nearby door and held it open for Rhianna. Wordlessly, Rhianna approached him, rapier in hand, closely shadowed by Corleon's traveling companions. Corleon smiled as he opened the door. "After you, milady," he said. The midday sun was warm upon Rhianna's ashen face and bosom as the serving girl stepped out onto the upper deck of the ship, leaving behind her escort. As the redhaired lass breathed in the salty air of the open sea, she could feel the color returning to her face. Her spirits lifted, Rhianna stretched her arms upwards, admiring the clamshell rapier held tightly in her hand as it gleamed in the sunlight. She felt reassured by its comforting weight and balance, and she could not help but smile as she turned her gaze towards the placid blue sea beyond. Not only was today a beautiful day to live, but it was also a wonderful day to conquer a mate. Excited, the young lass spun around and observed Corleon. Not too far away, the swordsman was arching his body in a loose form of exercise. As he leapt into a sudden lunge, Rhianna noticed that his legs were quite long, as well as his outstretched arms, which like his frame were not overly large, but lean and well muscled. As she continued to watch the black duelist perform his exercises, the young lass found herself in total rapture with his lissome motions. Sinuous and limber, Corleon al-Karazim moved with the fluidity of a dancer, the naked steel of his unsheathed sword flashing in front of him, keeping measured time with his movement as he expertly slashed and thrusted away against an imaginary opponent. Rhianna felt her loins growing uncomfortably warm with desire as she watched him further. Such a beautiful, graceful man... Finally the swordsman finished his exercise, sheathing his sword While outwardly his body was calm and placid, his dark brown eyes were afire with an excited vigor. He turned to face the serving girl. "And now for the terms of the duel," enunciated Corleon in his full, deep tenor. "Should you defeat me, your freedom shall be immediately granted, and you will also receive safe passage home, but should I win, you shall be mine to do with as I please. Does that sound fair to you?" Rhianna nodded. "Those are fair terms, Corleon, but I have my own terms to add, if I may be so bold." The swordsman was briefly taken aback by Rhianna's abrupt request. He arched a curious eyebrow. "Very well," he acquiesced. "I'm listening." "If you defeat me in combat," spoke the redhaired lass, "I shall be yours as you say. However - " she grinned wickedly " - if I defeat you, then I shall take you back to my village, where you shall be mine to do with as I please. And furthermore, I shall claim your sword as my own." "Indeed," smiled Corleon. "So you wish to Take me." "In a manner of speaking", chuckled Rhianna softly. He would make an excellent prize, thought the young lass. She felt her nipples hardening underneath her bodice as she imagined herself smothering a defeated, quivering Corleon in her large, soft breasts. She could feel his hot warm breath on her cleavage. She must have him as her own. The object of Rhianna's ravenous desires tapped his pommel "That sounds acceptable," he said. "So the victor of this challenge shall Take the vanquished." Rhianna grinned. "Yes. After all, it happens so often in life itself." "Indeed," the swordsman nodded his head gravely. "So, without further ado, shall we begin the mating ritual?" An eager grin crossed Rhianna's face. "Whenever you're ready, Corleon." "Good," smiled the black man. His sword flew from his scabbard. Snapping his heels together, the swordsman lifted his rapier upwards in a stiff salute. Rhianna returned it, bringing the hilt of her sword almost to her lips in a seductive salute of her own. "On your guard, Corleon," Rhianna's voice was a seductive whisper. Corleon smiled, his teeth set in a feral grin "On your guard." Rhianna sprang into action. She leapt forward, extending her sword at the stomach of Corleon, who smoothly parried the thrust with his blade. Undaunted, the serving girl swept her sword underneath his in a disengage and brought it to the inside of Corleon's guard. The swordsman grinned. "Mistake." He himself sprang forward, swatting away Rhianna's rapier with his open hand. At the same time he flicked his sword lightly across her midriff, ripping her dress and inflicting a slight scratch on her stomach. Rhianna shrank back, more from shock at being caught than from pain. Astonished, she looked down at the gash in her dress. Had he driven his sword in a few inches deeper, it would have been fatal. "Damn you!" she said, her voice wavering. "Damn you!" How could it be over so quickly? "When fighting single rapier, the off hand is vital to your defense," said the wiry black man matter-of-factly, raising his left hand. "Now shall we continue this dance, or have you had enough?" The corners of his mouth turned upward in an almost condescending smile. Rhianna seethed, her eyes green bolts of anger. "Making you submit will be enough," she snarled. Rapier pointed at her adversary, Rhianna slowly began to circle him. She glided smoothly across the floor, her footsteps making nary a sound. Corleon slowly turned to face the circling Rhianna, patient as ever, waiting for the fiery redhead to make the next move. Stepping forward, Rhianna quickly beat aside Corleon's rapier and tried to sweep her blade across his face, but Corleon snaked his blade under hers and extended his arm, pushing her sword upwards. He briefly looked into her eyes through the crossed blades, then pushed her back effortlessly. Parrying a thrust from Rhianna, he smiled. "You have a feisty offense, but let's see if your defense is any good." Whipping his sword around, Corleon made a thrust to her chin, which Rhianna parried effortlessly, making a counterthrust at his shoulder. Slipping back, Corleon switched his stance, placing his left side forward. When Rhianna lunged at his exposed side, he swatted her sword away with his gauntlet and brought his sword towards her breast. Gritting her teeth, Rhianna brought her left hand down on the flat side of his sword with a hard slap. "A fast learner, too!" Corleon said admiringly. He raised his sword to block another shot from Rhianna to his face. "But not fast enough." Corleon brought his sword down and across Rhianna's dress, slicing the material open from top to bottom. Her pendulous breasts sprung forward, large pink nipples hardening. Rhianna once again shrank back in a futile attempt to cover herself as Corleon laughed out loud. As Rhianna bunched the material about her breasts, she accidentally revealed her soft reddish brown pubic hair. Angry tears streaked down the pale white face of the serving girl as Corleon's mocking laughter rang in her ears like thunderclaps. The bastard! How dare he laugh at her, humiliate her so! She pulled as much of the torn dress around her as she could. Let him laugh. Revenge shall soon be hers. Across from her stood Corleon, head lifted high, a confident smile across his dark lips. His coal-black eyes were glinting with excitement and glee at having humbled the feisty virago before him. "Well, Rhianna, are you going to defend yourself?", snickered the swordsman, "Or do you wish to concede the duel to me?" "Concede?" Rhianna's angry eyes widened as she shuddered, besides herself with rage. "I'll never concede to the likes of ye!", she roared and standing up, ripped off her dress, exposing bare flesh. She stood naked before Corleon, defiance glinting in her eyes. "Let's finish this," she hissed. Despite himself, the swordsman shuddered with excitement, he could barely control himself. "Yes. Let's." Without warning, he lunged at the naked girl, intending to strike her on the leg. She lithely pulled her leg out of the way, knocking Corleon's blade aside with her own. Stepping inside his guard, she tried to slash his chest, but Corleon snaked his arm and sword about her blade, entrapping it between his hilt and wrist. With a wicked grin, he gave a sharp turn and ripped the sword from the horrified girl's grasp. It flew away and landed on the floor with a loud clatter. Still grinning, he pointed his sword inches away from her slender neck. "It would seem that I have disarmed you. Now do you submit?" Rhianna looked at the blade scant inches from her throat. It would be wise to give up now, to submit to him... She bit her lip. "Never!" Grabbing his sword by the blade she yanked it from him and tossed it aside. As Corleon readied himself, she slammed into him, knocking him down. As he fell, his arms grabbed her shoulders, taking her along with him. They bodily fell onto the deck. Tightly pressed against Corleon's chest, Rhianna struggled violently to release herself from his grasp. It was difficult, but she managed to wriggle free and climb on top of him. Her hands balled into fists. She raised her fists to strike him, but as she did, Corleon grabbed her breasts. Rhianna convulsed violently as the swordsman's slender fingers tweaked her nipples, sending jolts of electricity coursing through her body and into her exposed sex. "Your breasts are your weakness, Rhianna," puffed the swordsman, "and they will make your body submit to me." "Aye and I know your weakness." Rhianna started rubbing her bare crotch against his. He bucked strongly, throwing her off of him. As she lay on the floor, he took off his pants, revealing his penis. He smiled. She leapt upon him with wild abandon, impaling herself on the hardened shaft. She pushed down upon him hard, and tightened her vaginal muscles. He groaned in pleasure, and reached up, grabbing her breasts. He tweaked her large nipples with his fingers, sending more shocks throughout her body. In response she wildly gyrated her hips, pushing his penis deeper and deeper into her sex. "Come, damn you, come!" puffed Rhianna. "You first." Corleon sat up, hands still on her breasts. Leaning closer to Rhianna, he suddenly put his mouth on hers, locking her in a deep embrace. "Mmmmmmmmmmfff", she moaned. She was nearly overcome by the deep wet kiss, the feeling of his tongue in her mouth, the salty, sweet taste - Oh Goddess! She slowly felt herself beginning to lose it, and her sex exploded, but at the same time she could feel him come inside of her, his penis pulsating. Still locked in the embrace, he wrapped his arms around her tightly. When they finally finished the embrace, they looked into each others eyes. "I may not have beaten ye this time," puffed Rhianna, "But I will not give up. If it takes my entire life, I shall defeat ye, and then ye shall be mine." "I have little doubt of that," panted Corleon. Indeed, I shall be looking forward to it when the time comes. Until then, however I claim you - as my student. And you have a lot to learn about the Art of the Sword, if you wish to defeat me in it." "I would fain love to learn", smiled the maiden. "And I'm sure you have a lot to teach me, so when shall my lessons begin?" Corleon whispered in her ear. "Right now. Grinning, the swordsman gently nibbled at her ear. They had a few days ahead of them.