The Black Rabbit
Copyright© 2017 by Robberhands
Prologue
Fantasy Sex Story: Prologue - The story takes place in a fantasy world, roughly comparable to the time and area in Europe and the Mediterranean at the beginning of the first millennium AD. It's about the journey of a very unusual young man; as unusual in his world, as he would have been in ours. It's about the people he met and the things he learned from them; as well as it's about what he taught them in return. But mainly, it's about your enjoyment, so don't take anything too seriously.
Caution: This Fantasy Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Ma/ft Fa/Fa Magic NonConsensual High Fantasy Anal Sex First Slow Violence
The mare was near exhaustion. Her black hair was soaked with sweat and foam had gathered on her chest and flanks. A girl, equally exhausted, clung to her neck. They were riding west and had been for days with only a few breaks for a few meager meals. The provisions were gone now and the ride only paused for the horse to drink when they had to cross a stream.
“Carry me just a little longer, Moja,” the girl pleaded. “I can see the mountains; we’re almost there.”
Sensing the pain and urgency in the sound of her mistress’ voice, the mare whinnied and sped up defying her own exhaustion. The girl on her back fought to stay awake, but lost the battle and fell asleep as they rode - just a little longer.
She was lying on a field of grass when she opened her eyes again. The stars were shining in the night and she heard the faint sound of the wind hissing through the leaves of trees in the west. They had finally reached the forest at the foot of the Capassian Mountains. Beyond the wind, she also heard the shallow breathing of her horse lying by her side. The mare was shivering and pink froth was leaking from her nostrils. With tears brimming in her eyes, she hugged the neck of her dying horse.
“Thank you, Moja, my brave friend,” she whispered. “You can rest now. We will not ride again.”
The girl was injured, tired and weak, but picked herself up and slowly stumbled towards the wood. When she reached it she went on, stumbling into the darkness of the dense forest. The cold of the night was clawing at her like the shrubs and thorny bushes of the forest’s underwood scratched at her clothes and skin. The girl often fell, but she willed herself to keep going - just a little longer.
All her life she had worshipped the Alorian gods in their white marble temples high above Katerra. Sixteen now, she would have become a priestess on the night of the summer solstice. A virginal bride for the gods. The gift of a life. A life of nothing but virtue and devotion. Her life.
They came in the night, the Yorak. The screams of her mother and sisters still echoed in her mind, like her own shrieks and pleas, but no one came to rescue them - no guard, no priest and no Alorian god. She saw her mother and sisters die, and everything she was had died along with them. What was left of her dreams and hopes, her future and her belief in the Alorian gods was now nothing more than sticky smears of blood on her thighs.
It wasn’t hope driving her to go on, it was hate. Hate for the men who destroyed her world, and hate for the gods. Gods she was no longer worthy to worship. It was hate driving her to commit this final act of defiance, to spit in the faces of men and gods. So she walked through the forest and crawled when her legs could carry her no longer.
The sound of wolves howling in the distance startled her as she crept through the woods. She moved on but the howling came closer, surrounding her. The wolves were coming for her and she broke down crying as she realized that even the last days of her life had been wasted. She would not reach the mountains. Her act of defiance would not happen. Nothing was left to her and there was nothing she could do anymore, just nothing. Her hate was as dead as her hope when she closed her eyes to let go of that life.
The end...
but every end is a new beginning.
[Edited by Kenn Ghannon; Proofread by Bigbillh and Chipster82]