Message-ID: <6412eli$9802251506@qz.little-neck.ny.us> From: "OddManOut Anywhere" Subject: NEW STORY: "Arg" m/f, barbarian, n/c? Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Content-Type: text/plain Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: X-Original-Message-ID: <19980224075716.24454.qmail@hotmail.com> DISCLAIMER: The following story is named 'Arg'. Arg is the term used in programs like Mathematica and Matlab to refer to the argument of a given function. In this story, 'Arg' is the name of a barbarian warrior. You will find no hints or tips on Mathematica or Matlab here. You will find graphic depcitions of non-consentual sex in a fantasy setting. If this offends you, or if you are too young to read about stuff like that, go read the Mathematica user's manual. Arg by OddManOut Arg surveyed the wreckage of the village before him. Most of the crude huts had been burned to the ground, the few that remained standing little more than wreckage held up by charred wooden posts. Only the town hall before him had been spared the torch of the harriers. No doubt, when he looked inside, he would find the collected booty of the town, stacked and waiting to be delivered into the hands of Barlag, the local warlord. It had been sparsely guarded, as no man in the wilds above the northern pass would dare to steal what Barlag's had already plundered for his own. Arg, however, did not come from the north. Leaning down on one knee, he cleaned the blood from his sword on the tunic of the last guard who was foolish enough to oppose him. The others had fled into the woods. The smarter ones would have fled forever. The others would take their tale to Barlag, and would surely be impaled for their cowardice. It would be a good four hours at least before Barlag's forces arrived, and Arg planned to be long gone by then. Moving slowly, listening for traps, Arg quietly stepped towards the large wigwam of the town hall. It was thirty feet long, and twenty feet wide at least, an oblong dome that rose fifteen feet above the ground at its peak. The outside, once decorated with bright fabrics and flowers, now supported the severed heads, limbs, and other organs of those townspeople who had fought especially hard against the harriers. The archway to the inside of the structure was open like a maw, waiting for Arg to enter. It worried Arg that he could not see more than a few feet past the entrance of the hut. A bowman could easily stand inside in the shadows, and might already have drawn a bead on him. He would never see the arrow until it lodged itself in his chest. Moving quickly, he dodged right and dove towards the side of the archway in a single flowing movement. No arrows flew from the treacherous dark. Now Arg was next to the opening, and safely out of sight of any hidden invaders in the town hall. Pressing his ear against the side of the structure, Arg found that his fear had not been unjustified. Inside the bark and mud dome, he could clearly hear someone breathing deep, ragged gasps of air. A guard, surely. In a panic and waiting for Arg to enter so that he could be brained with the short axe that seemed so popular in these climes. Arg raised his free hand and banged on the side of the hut loudly. Inside, he could hear the breathing increase in speed, and a slight scuffle on the floor, but noone ran out of the hut. So this was an experienced warrior. Silently treading to the edge of the door, Arg launched himself into the wigwam, diving into a low roll that would be unexpected by a waiting swordsman. Arg came out of the roll in an almost balletic motion, holding his huge sword in front of him both as a counterbalance and a defense. His eyes still unaccustomed to the darkness of the hut, he let out a furious battle cry to disorient the other fighter. Arg heard faint whimpers and pathetic scuffling, but no brigand came forth to meet his call. Now that he was inside the hut, Arg realized that the breathing sounded much weaker than anything that would be emitted by a follower of Barlag. His sword still raised, Arg stepped forward toward the source of the sound, his eyes adapting to the dim light. The girl on the floor in front of him was no warrior. Arg guessed that she was barely past her fifteenth year. She was tied at the hands and feet, then tied once again to the body of a friend. Arg could see that the friend, tied in the same manner, had had her throat slit as punishment for some pathetic malfeasance. The living girl wore a simple brown shift that had been stained with blood and other, darker fluids. Her face, arms and legs were badly bruised and cut from the resistance she had given to the harriers. Her mouth was filled with a wad of dirty cloth, held in place by another rag tied around her head. As his eyes grew more sensitive, Arg saw a crushed flower in her flaxen hair. She must have been tending to her garden when the harriers came, he thought. They had taken the gold for wealth, and the food for sustenance, why not the girl as well, as an offering of pleasure? Arg had heard that Barlag took his pleasure in ways that often did not involve young girls. Perhaps she was destined to one of his lieutenants. Looking more closely, Arg could see that she would be a fine prize, indeed. Beneath the bruises and the blood, her skin was the color of the moon on the horizon; pale, with an undefinable hint of color. Her shift revealed a pair of strong, healthy legs, with thighs that were creamy where they had not been turned blue by blows. Her shift had been torn at one side, and the cloth hung over one of the cords that bound her, revealing the tops of what promised to be soft, generous bosoms. Her eyes were dark in the shades of the yurt, but they were wide enough for Arg to see their pale, frightened whites. As he reached towards her, she shuffled away from him frantically. But enough of her. She would only fetch a fair price at best, until her bruises healed. Arg surveyed the rest of his booty. A meager pile of gold trinkets lay next to the girl, along with a few bags of spices, and some medicinal herbs cut from the people's gardens. Arg scooped up the gold and herbs, but left the spices as they were. He turned to the girl. "Name." Arg was unfamiliar with the languages of the area, and only knew a few functional words that could get his point across. The girl looked at him slowly, but said nothing. "Name." Arg said, and began to walk towards her. "Nala! Nala!" The girl panicked and tried to raise her arms in defence. "Stop. I not hurt. I… break." She looked at him strangely, but Arg could not think of a better word. He sheathed his sword and pulled out his knife. It glinted wickedly in the faint light. Nala closed her eyes and moaned in despair as Arg bent towards her with the weapon, and flinched as he turned the knife on the heavy twine that bound her to the dead girl. "Not hurt. Break." Arg repeated, and she relaxed, understanding what he meant. "Cut, not break." She said. He grunted, finally cutting through the twine. He turned next to the rope around her ankles, sawing furiously. "What are you doing?" she asked. Arg only ignored her and grabbed her tiny ankle in his hand to steady the rope. It had been a long time since Arg had felt a woman so delicate. Her bones seemed as fragile as bird bones, and they seemed as if they would snap if he squeezed too hard. The skin around her ankle was soft and hot with mixed perspiration and panic. The rope around her ankles gave way, and Arg pulled, revealing dark red bands where it had bit into Nala's legs. He stood up and hauled her to her feet, leaving her hands tied. Nala promptly fell down again. She was weak from her abuse, from the loss of blood, and from having her legs cruelly bound together. Arg let her lie, and left the hut to find some food. A few minutes later, he returned with some strips of jerky he had found in one of the harriers' saddlebags. Nala was sitting on the floor, rubbing her legs together to sooth the marks. He tore off a small piece of jerky, then crossed to her and held it in front of her face. "Eat." She looked at it and tried to mask her hunger. "Untie me," she said, shaking her bound hands behind her back. Arg pretended not to understand. "Eat," he repeated, and held the piece closer to her mouth. Nala turned her head away, but her nostrils flared as Arg pushed the food under her nose. It did not matter to Arg. Grabbing the back of her head in one hand, he forced the piece of beef between Nala's lips. She struggled at first, but her struggles grew weaker when she tasted the salty meat on her tongue. Half defeated, half ravenous, she chewed on the morsel and swallowed quickly. Arg tore off a piece for himself, then held out another to her lips. She snapped at him, her teeth closing on the jerky less than an inch away from his hand. Arg jerked his hand away. He knew that human bites were more septic than those of many animals. He slapped Nala quickly across the face, cursing himself for his carelessness. Her head flew to the side, but she turned back and faced him, pride glinting in her eyes. She still held the piece of jerky between her teeth. Arg abandoned any pretense of gentility. The girl's fate as a slave was certain, and any more bruises would hardly make more difference in her selling price. He took a skein of water from his pack and uncorked it, then grabbed Nala's head and forced the end into her mouth, squeezing on the bladder from the outside. The water spurted into Nala's mouth faster than she could drink, and flowed out past her lips and down her neck. The sight of her wet face made Arg think of what was coming next, and he felt himself begin to stir under his gherkin. He pulled the canteen from her mouth and capped it cruelly, then looked down at Nala and grinned. He formed a sentence from the five words he first learned in her language. "You ate. You drank. Now fuck." Nala looked at him wild eyed, and spat some of the water at his legs. He laughed, then spat back, hitting her squarely in the chest, just above her bosom. Nala screamed something at him he couldn't translate, then tried to get to your feet. "No!" Arg caught her arm and stepped forward, throwing her off balance. Nala fell to the floor, and Arg fell on top of her, grabbing her hair. He pulled her head to his own, and hissed, "Fuck, or I go, and you go to Balrag." Nala stopped her struggling, and looked at him with fear in her eyes. He knew her decision before she assented. Better a quick rape from this barbarian than slow torture from the warlord. She looked away and nodded her head quietly, now limp in his arms. Arg dropped her to the floor, then let out a whoop as he unsheathed his knife again. Hooking it under her dress at her legs, he cut upwards quickly, tearing the fabric from her body. Underneath the shift, the invaders had wisely left her pale body unblemished for their master. Nala's smooth white stomach heaved as she turned her head away, closing her eyes tightly. Her soft, luscious breasts rose and fell rapidly as she waited for her conqueror to take her as he pleased. Arg whipped off his loincloth and clothes, and tossed his weapons on the floor, making sure they would be far out of Nala's reach. Then he was on top of her. The first thing he did was grab her pristine breasts, kneading them roughly in his dirty hands. It had been a long time since he had been with a woman. It was even longer since the woman was as young and luscious as Nala. Her teats felt like two warm clouds under his palms, and he tried to take an entire breast in each one, stretching his fingers towards the edges of her ribcage. Nala squirmed, but with her hands tied behind her back, she was unable to fend off the warrior's attack on her body. Arg could only fondle Nala's body so much before he got the urge to taste her. Taking one hand from her breast, he quickly replaced it with his mouth. First he licked the fleshy underside, tasting the dirt from his own hand mixed with the sweet sweat of the village girl. Arg ran his tongue from the bottom of Nala's breast along the base to the top, where it curved gently back into her shoulder. Nala had always been proud of her big breasts, and the ways in which they had caused the boys in her town to make fools of themselves whenever she was around. Sometimes, if she was feeling naughty, she would tend to her garden in her smallest shift. It was a scrap of cloth that had been made for her when she was twelve. As she worked, she knew that the boys would try to hide behind a nearby tree or rock in order to get a better look at her treasures. It was always a thrill then, but as she felt Arg's tongue sliding towards her areola, Nala now wished that her breasts were tiny, so that there would not be so much of her that received this torture from the cruel barbarian. When she felt Arg's mouth close around her nipple, she was afraid that he was about to bite it off. Instead, he only sucked it forcefully, and she began to wish that he had bit down, if only so that the pain would hide the new horrible feelings that were beginning to manifest deep within her body. Nala screwed up her face tightly, and tried to imagine herself floating alone in the placid pool near her home. Arg cared for none of this. His only response to Nala's actions was to move his mouth to her other breast when the first one was coated with his saliva. In all his travels, he had never come across a girl such as Nala. Her body was young, firm, and nubile, but she was so much purer than any prostitute. Villagers kept girls such as her locked away when men such as him rode into town. Now, Arg saw how wise an action that was on their part. As he feasted on her breasts, Arg wet his thumb in his spittle, then slid it down until it rested lightly against Nala's cleft. When Nala felt this intruder's hand on her privates, she screamed and twisted under his touch, but there was no one left to hear her cries, save for the corpses of her friends and violators. Arg bit into her nipple suddenly, making her stop with an abrupt gasp. "Don't scream," he said roughly. He covered her mouth with his free hand, then thrust his spit-slicked thumb into her hot womb. Although Nala dreaded his touch, his actions had an effect that her body could not ignore. The tunnel around his probing thumb was hot, but it was not dry. The slight moisture that had begun to flow while Arg sucked only increased when he began to feel the inner walls of her being. Arg laughed as he felt Nala becoming slick. He had thought that girls such as her did not enjoy sex, and that only the slatterns and whores could become slick for their men. He was relieved to find that she would be much more accommodating to his member than he thought. "You like, I can tell." He pulled his thumb out, coated with the proof of his statement, and held it up to her face. Nala twisted her head away, but could not ignore the damning smell of her excitement that clung to his hand. What was happening to her. Was this man a warlock, able to make her body respond to the vilest attentions regardless of what her soul desired? Arg once more buried his thumb in her soft curls. This time, it went in with less resistance, and the warrior was able to easily bury it up to the first knuckle. It was there that Arg encountered Nala's hymen. He laughed with glee. No wonder she had been spared for Balrag. There was no doubt that her ill-fated friend had lacked such a powerful shield against the raiders. "Fear not, little virgin," Arg whispered in his native tongue, "I will make you a woman in a much more pleasant way than would he for whom you were intended." Nala, who could not understand the language, only shuddered in anticipation of his further violation. Arg began to lick the salty underside of her throat as he slowly moved his thumb in and out of her valley. On every pass, he pressed up against her maidenhead, but he was very careful to only stretch it slightly. Arg had no intention of tearing her innocence with something as lowly as his thumb. Nala began to cry as she felt her fragile barrier buckle under the force of the man's finger. Every time he pressed in, it felt to her as if the piece of flesh would tear asunder, but somehow she still held, half relieved that she retained her innocence, half frustrated that he would not just break her and get it over with. When he withdrew his hand, she felt a mixture of hope and shame. "Maybe he got tired," she thought, "maybe I have disgusted him, so that he will just go away and leave me to die in peace." Nala's brief hope was shattered when Arg wiped his thumb off on her thigh, then grabbed her legs at the knees and cruelly forced them apart. Before Nala could squeeze them back together, he had slipped his body between them, keeping them separated with his great bulk. With her hands bound, Nala could only rock from side to side in an attempt to shake off her invader. Arg barked a short laugh at her pathetic attempts, then grabbed one hip in his mighty hand, using his other to position his masculinity at the entrance of her hole. "Now, pretty one, you will see what I have saved you from!" Nala could not understand the foreign words, but when she felt the gigantic member of the warrior pass through the entrance of her womanhood, she realized what he meant. She tried to scream, but it only came out as a loud whine as Arg's uncut penis met her maidenhead. Arg began to press against it lightly, almost gently. When Nala's whining began to die down, he increased his pressure. However unwilling she seemed, Nala's slit was now a steaming jungle, waiting for Arg to enter and claim its treasure. Arg grabbed both Nala's hips, then thrust forward, tearing her hymen asunder with a mighty blow. Nala screamed as she felt the pain, but Arg only laughed and pulled at her nipple with one hand. "Fear not, maiden! It only gets better from here!" Nala wouldn't have listened, even if she had understood the words. The pain of Arg's entry had filled her entire body, and Nala wondered if Arg had ripped away her soul when he took her virginity. He was still thrusting like a beast into her, his thick spear penetrating her to depths within her she had never known about. Her entire body was on fire, not just from pain, but from the strange soft feeling that had begun when Arg had first set his mouth on her nipple. "By the gods," she thought, "am I enjoying this? What sort of sin did I commit to warrant such a cruel torture?" As Arg continued to pound against her body, her bosoms became warmer with every pull on her delicate buds. Arg let out another whoop as a new wave of pleasure washed over him. He could tell the waif liked it, but was too ashamed to admit it. He knew that it was the best he'd had in a long time, even with her lack of participation in the act. Nala's sheath remained tight around his maleness, and every time he thrust forward, she couldn't help but let out a little squeak from her mouth. He could feel himself building to his peak, so he slowed himself down to a more moderate pace. He wanted to take his time with this one. Jerky is wolfed down, but a fine steak is eaten slowly, with much savor. Nala didn't know why Arg had slowed his thrusts. She had been in so much pain before. Every time he returned to her womb, she became more and more consumed with the unfamiliar fire that came with this new type of invasion. Soon, she had thought, she would succumb, and surrender her life at the peak of pain. When Arg began to moderate his pace, the strange sensation began to slip away, and somehow that was even worse for the young girl. Would she not be consumed? Would she have to live out the rest of her life, waiting for the fire to end it all? "Please," she begged, "Do not slow your attack on me, just kill me with your body and be done, for that is what you want." Arg smirked and shook his head. He had only understood a bit of what Nala said. "I'm not going to kill you, I will leave you alive. It is useless to kill something that will command such a high price." With that he laughed, and buried himself even deeper in Nala's clutching flesh. Nala began to cry with relief as she felt her seizure come on again. She pushed herself back against Arg's thrusts, increasing the fire in her body, until it once more touched the edge of her heart. Then, with a cry, she felt the flame go out of control, sweeping out from her womanhood and passing through every muscle, every blood vessel of her body. "So this is what it is like to die" she thought as her toes curled and her arms became stiff behind her. Arg only laughed again and pulled on her bosoms as he saw her limbs go rigid. Nala's body exploded with the fire, and inside the burning, she felt something sweet. For an instant, she believed that her prayers had been answered, and she had been allowed to enter paradise for her suffering. She felt wonderful all over her body, and those parts that Arg had so abused now shone with their own radiant light. She let out a scream as she felt the rapture pass through her and into her soul, and prepared to float gently to the afterworld, where she would be reunited with her family that had so recently been butchered. Only when the feeling started to fade did Nala notice that she could still feel Arg's slippery member inside of her. At first, she thought that maybe he had died too, and somehow he had been permitted to enter paradise as well. When she breathed in and smelled his sweaty stink, the horror of the truth came over her. She was still alive! The barbarian was still using her tattered, sore body! Nala burst into tears, but Arg didn't notice. He was too close to his own release. Holding the sobbing girl by the shoulders, he thrust three more times into her abused mound, then sprayed the white burst of his seed up inside of her. He collapsed roughly on top of her, making her cry out when his weight forced her wrists together under their combined body weight. Arg realized what had happened and rolled onto his side, relieving Nala's pain without letting go of her. He looked into her eyes and said "You were very good. Maybe I will keep you to myself a little longer before I sell you away. A girl like you could become very profitable, once taught the right tricks." Nala only looked away from her face, ashamed that this dirty man had brought her so close to paradise, yet feeling somewhat proud that she had taken his abuse and still lived to tell the tale. She felt the shrinking turgid shaft of Arg's maleness inside her, and secretly wondered when he would attack her again, and give her another try at returning to the spirit world. "It is only the great men who are truly obscene. If they had not dared to be obscene, they could never have dared to be great." -Havelock Ellis ______________________________________________________ Get Your Private, Free Email at http://www.hotmail.com -- +--------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `------------+ | story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us | story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us |