The Enchanting Rapture (#1)

Chapter 1

Annika 

     The whip slashed once more at Annika's back, sinking in her flesh to a dangerous degree before sailing back. Her teeth clenched onto the leather piece placed in her mouth, knowing her screams would only worsen the punishment. Tears streamed down uselessly, a release that offered close to no console. 

     The sky rumbled violently, matching Annika's storm of emotions. The fear. The fury. The shame.

     Taking in large breaths, the slave remained near silent when no more strikes were dealt. Her body quivered in utter agony, a dirty feeling of fear slid with a disgusting leisure down her spine, triggering a whole new sting to her freshly ripped skin.

     A hand yanked at her black strands, forcing her entire head to tilt backward. Warm breath erupted against her ear as a familiar voice growled, "did you enjoy that?"

     Annika nodded with forced eagerness, anything which would make him leave sooner. "Yes, Frite, I did," she answered as the leather fell from her mouth. Her voice was weak, submissive. The blood dripped at a constant rate down her back, wetting her legs, but she knew it was not a fatal injury. 

     "Good, and just for being a good little bitch, I'll allow you to wash yourself up, but if any one, including any of the other slaves, assist you, you will be punished tenfold," Frite said, still clutching onto her hair.

     "Thank you, Frite," was Annika's instant response, but she was far from grateful. He let go, walking off to go torture some other poor soul under his charge.

     Annika let go of the pole she had hung so desperately to while the whip attacked her, dropping to the ground for only a moment. If Frite saw her like she was then, he would surely force her back on the wooden pole for another discipline. She quickly rose, pulling her raggedy shirt back on, hissing lowly when the cloth hit her back.

      If she didn't hurry, there would be an infection.

     Picking up the piece of leather and placing it by the pole, Annika rushed to the slave quarters, knowing she had a shortage of time to clean her wounds. The wash woman was already waiting with a clean bath, smiling at Annika in pity. The wash woman herself had not been punished too long ago either because of something so achingly simple. 

     Annika had been punished for being two minutes behind while taking breakfast to her master. Frite was only a terrifying man who was in charge of the slaves, her master was the true owner of them. Both males were of the worst kind.

     Annika rapidly undressed, and submerged herself into the bath. She held in her cries at the terrible burn of the soapy water when it hit her tender flesh. One of the worst parts of punishment was cleaning up the aftermath. Scrubbing herself down, she made quick of tending to her back. The task was difficult, but the fear of more pain sped up her movements.

     She dressed into her slave clothes and got back to work. Every shift in her body seemed to go right to her back, but it didn't matter. A slave's discomfort never mattered. This was a law every slave lived by.

     Arriving at the kitchen, she swiftly placed herself into her routine. First, she would clean with the other slaves, and then she would start preparing the master's next meal. For lunch, he usually liked lamb soup, so lamb soup he would receive unless Annika was instructed otherwise. If she had half a brain, she would poison the soup, but good thing she had a whole brain. The master always had another taste his food before he consumed it.

     "Did you hear?" One slave whispered to another. Annika naturally listened in while wiping down the sink. If there was one perk of being quiet, it was listening, really listening. She learned all kinds of information this way.

     "One of master's soldiers found a wounded creature, a wild man, on the property, he's said to be worth the world and then some!" The slave exclaimed excitedly.

     "Well paint me blue," the other whispered with wide eyes, "who could it be?"

     "I'd be headless if I knew," she responded with a shrug. Annika stopped listening in after the direction of the conversation shifted to less interesting topics.

     But Annika's curiosity was immediately sparked. Who could the man be? Maybe someone who didn't deserve capture? The craving for a visitation with newly imprisoned creature suddenly clamped down onto her thumping heart, urging her to just get a peek.

     What could be the harm?

     She shook her head at her own foolish thoughts. Visiting the mysterious man would only result in her death. Annika started to cut up the lamb, frustrated that her mind continued to race with new possibilities.

Soren

     The feral man-dressed in completely torn up clothes-growled lowly when another guard passed by his cell door. The heavy chains burned against his rough skin, sizzling when he shifted in the most subtle way. The special stone that was fused in the cuffs tended to kindle with dangerous heat at any produced friction. Whoever it was who managed to capture Soren, he was wealthy enough to purchase the rare material. Had the chains been metal, he would have had no problem escaping. But these people were smart and knew of his capabilities.

     Ignoring the agonizing burn, he tugged with a mighty grip at the chains that where bolted deeply into the cold stone floors. The entire room was made of jagged and dangerous rock, oozing a daunting and ominous air. Though Soren could barely smell past the metallic aroma of blood and fresh manure, he sensed he was not far from woodland, where there were plenty of metal elements in the ground. Looking behind his back at the only source of light-a hole in the stone carved out as a window-Soren knew there was no way in hell he could fit through. 

     Soren was beyond dissatisfied himself, even if he was beaten nearly to death when they found his body on the estate. He had been lured towards a frail maiden who had been calling out for help. Something was wrong, he knew, but he walked right into the trap anyway. When he got close enough, that is when they ambushed him. It seemed as though an entire village had attacked, but the number was not what defeated him, it was the odd poison dripping on the tip of their blades that handicapped him in the battle. It was all for the pouch of gold on his hip!

     Soren had managed to fight them off with a half delirious state of mind, only to collapse miles further on the property he was currently residing in. Skin covered in only old blood, his wounds had already sealed themselves shut. He adjusted his body into a crouch, and made sure his coiling muscles were ready to pounce at any newcomers.

     Due to his livelihood, Soren went on a hunch that they realized his true identity. Any sane man would leave the bleeding predator to die on the ground, less they had a death wish. But maybe a greedy man could look past the danger and focus on the worth of Soren being alive. His capturer must be one greedy son of a bitch.

     Tension had run high between The Might Empire and Animal Kingdom longer than Soren had been alive. So a very long time.

     What was Soren's part in the mutual dislike between the dimensions? Why was Soren exceedingly valuable? 

     The answer was simple: once Soren made the choice on which party he wanted to defend, a brewing war would finally burst into the air, and whatever side he chose would be the side lead to victory.

     Simple.

A/N

Thank you for giving this story a chance! It means the world when someone takes this journey on with me. I hope you enjoy this universe and the rest to come!

!IMPORTANT!

This is my first and only warning, only because I hate to ruin the content of chapters: be on guard at all times, because this story will be mild at first, but there will be times of sexual content, even-yes-sexual violence.

You've been warned...

Enjoy!

TPQ