To Be an Assassin
Chapter 1

Copyright© 2010 by Woofajuana

Science Fiction Sex Story: Chapter 1 - The two great assassin orders battle for dominance in a Universe full of war, strife, and Red Tide oppression. Calsa, young and orphaned, will change the face of these ancient orders, or die trying.

Caution: This Science Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   mt/ft   Ma/ft   Consensual   Romantic   Rape   Coercion   Heterosexual   Science Fiction   Incest   MaleDom   Rough   Pregnancy  

I never intended to be here, sitting around this fire with my fellow assassins. The Ha'trin. It took me a long time to get here. A lot of heart ache. A lot of love. And an attitude that could cut glass. I don't normally look back on those times. They are so far behind me. But this night, the slightest rustle in the brush alerting us to our rivals, the memories flooded me as surely as blood flooded the earth beneath my feet.


Peeking her head around the corner, Calsa looked out at the busy market. It was a ripe picking ground, full of people who were paying no attention to their money pouches. Always she came here around midday, when people were at their laziest. Not only could she usually make a few coin, but grab a meal as well.

She darted out, blending into the crowd. She found herself surrounded, most people easily able to look right over her head. She let herself be somewhat carried by the tide of movement, followed leisurely with the crowd. A coin purse found its way into her pocket. She moved on.

A little way down the street she tripped on her own feet. She used a man's belt to hold her up. The man glared at her. "Watch where you're going, boy!"

She muttered her apologies before scurrying off, taking a peek into this purse. She was used to people thinking of her as a young boy. Her hair was closely cropped, her form lithe and agile. She wore the clothing of young men, the baggy tunic hiding her small breasts from sight. Most mistakened her for an 11 year old boy, not a 14 year old young woman. A woman she was, as defined by the unwritten rules of the world. One of the few rules not written.

Walking by a produce stand, her hand slithered up and snagged a fruit lightly, continuing her nonchalant stroll toward a side alley. Ducking into a doorway, she bit into her meal, watching people move easily through the less crowded walkway. A figure caught her eye. It was obviously a man, and by his easy, strong stride, a younger man. His face was hidden by a hood that wrapped around his neck and covered his shoulders. His forearms were covered by leather gauntlets. A sword at his hip meant he was more aware of the types of dangers of this province ruled by the Templiks, a branch of the Red Guard. More religious and far more radical, they nonetheless were loyal allies of the brutal Reds, who left them in power of the islands of Kul'thar. The man also wore a light tan tunic, black leggings, and on his large belt hung a very fat purse.

Calsa grinned. How simple this would be. A high born he had to be, thinking himself untouchable from his stature in society. She slipped out of her place, following behind slowly, without any hint of of dogging him. When he at last stopped, speaking to a older woman at a clothing stand, Calsa slid past him with practiced ease, giving the slightest tug, a small razor hidden in the palm of her hand detaching the fat purse right off the belt.

She was gone long before he would have checked himself for it. Turning into an empty alley, she placed the purses into her own belt pouch before easily vaulting her small body up the cracks and loose bricks of a building. The flat rooftops made a great hiding place. Few guard patrolled them, and the ones that did often left her alone, figuring she was a young boy playing around.

An abandoned apartment at the top of the building was home. Slipping into the cool shadows, she sighed, tossing her belt onto her cot, filled with old straw and feathers. There were other such beds scattered around the two room place; the light filtered through the wooden planks nailed to glassless windows. She squatted down, pouring out the coins with many satisfying clinks. Templik currency. Perfect. As she went through it, adding her newest earnings to all that she had saved up to now, her mind wandered to soon seeing her brother again. If she made enough to bribe one of the higher ranking guards, he would release her brother since the only crime he'd been caught for was stealing bread.

"I wonder what the Templiks would do to if they discovered this little rat hole."

Calsa whipped around, crouched in a defensive posture, ready to defend herself. The pleasantly male voice came from a silhouette at the makeshift door. His attire and sword at his hip told her immediately that it was the man with the fat purse. She could have sworn he hadn't even noticed her, much less been able to follow her here! She stood slowly, eyeing his relaxed figure that leaned easily against the frame, arms crossed.

"They usually have no reason to bother checking this place, sir."

"I'm sure they would if I called for them."

Calsa's heart skipped a beat, but she held her ground, feigning ignorance. "Why would you do such a thing, sir? I'm but a street runt, living as best as I can."

The man stood erect, striding leisurely into her home, his eyes roaming around. She drew away from him as he came close, his yellow eyes flicking to her cot where the coins still glinted in the faint light. "Best, maybe; honestly, not so much."

Calsa knew better than to play around any longer with this man. She placed her back to the wall and scooched toward the door. "I do what I can..."

His hand slammed the wall next to her head, preventing her escape. He turned his head, his powerful body still relaxed and unmoving. "I don't know what the Templiks would do to you, but I know for certain what the Ha'tinre would do for stealing from one of their own."

Her moonlight colored eyes widened. Her face paled, her breath quickening. A Ha'tinre? It just had to be her luck. She brought up her hands, palms up, in a begging position. "I-I'm sorry, sir. I didn't know. I'm just trying to survive..."

She stopped when he put his hand up before her face. He still leaned over her menacingly. "I don't care for your reasons. You stole from me and such actions come with consequences. Deciding what to do with you is at my own disgres ... Urg!"

They grappled for several moments, Calsa's swift movements making it difficult for the Ha'tinre to snag the arm that had the small razor. She had managed to cut through his thin tunic, catching him by surprise. Now she struggled to escape him, fear whipping her into a frenzy. It wasn't until she felt the cold blade hidden in one of the leather gauntlets against her throat that she stopped, panting. She stared at him in a panic.

He breathed hard, but didn't seem too fazed by her mad escape attempt. His eyes pierced her, hard and cautious. He had pressed his strong body tightly against her to subdue her. She could feel all his muscles through the thin fabric, feel his gender press against her hip, his thigh against her crotch. A shudder went through her.

"If you were a boy I'd call you stupid," he growled. She clenched her jaw. She felt him relax as he realized her gender. She suddenly squirmed again, trying to use his unguarded moment to flee. But he took a step back as she pressed forward with the razor. He grasped her wrist and gave her a tug, unbalancing her. He stepped to the side as he released her, letting her stumble past him before hooking her ankle in the crook of his own, sending her sprawling onto a dusty cot.

She coughed, turning quickly to glare up at him. He stood over her as if nothing were amiss. "As a girl, you're just foolish. Brave, but foolish. However, I rather like you're attitude." He looked out the door, noting the fading light. "It's getting late, and it just so happens I had been trying to acquire a place to bed down for the night. This seems as good as any."

"And what makes you think I won't slit your throat while you sleep?" she hissed. If he killed her for her behavior it would be better than the things she had heard about Ha'tinre punishments.

He raised a brow, a smug smirk tugging his lips as he squatted down to look her level in the eye. "Because something tells me you'd rather die." He then leaned forward, making her lean away from him. "If making you my slave could be punishment for stealing from me, imagine what it would be for killing me. Death is rarely a option when it comes to the Ha'tinre. We make sure you live, though every second you'd be begging for the end."

He leaned back, standing. He turned away from her, going to the cot with the coins still haphazardly discarded upon it. He carefully picked out his own currency, sweeping the rest aside. He sat onto the cot with a small grunt, his fingers touching the wound she had given him.

"That's my bed," she growled.

"Consider it your punishment." He pulled the tunic over his head to get a better look at his new wound. It had already clotted, but it was still very tender. He sneered, "for a girl, you have some skill."

Calsa glowered at him. "I'm not a girl!"

He glanced at her. "Oh? Well unless I'm mistakened you're not a boy."

She stuck her chin in the air proudly. The light was waning fast, but she could still see well enough, her eyes reflecting the fading light as well as his did. "I'm a woman!" she declared.

"Heh!" The Ha'tinre grunted in humor. "I think I'd believe you being a boy before I'd believe that!"

Her brows furrowed in anger. How dare he insult her in such a manner! "I am too! I've had plenty of lovers."

"Ha! I doubt that. All street runt boys, if that!" He leaned back against the wall, his legs stretched out before him. He discovered the waterskin that Calsa always had beside her bed, and he took a short swig before dripping some onto his finger and using it to wipe away the dried blood from his small wound.

Calsa leapt to her feet, finding his baiting to be nothing more than an affront to her adulthood. Wisdom, as they say, comes with age, and she had always had her brother and his gang to protect her. "I've been with men!" she growled.

The Ha'tinre shook his head calmly, his smug little smile only infuriating her more. "You'd have to prove that. I doubt greatly any of these street rats could be considered men."

She stomped over to him, her eyes full of youthful, righteous anger. She would prove it to him, by the gods! She would leave him breathless and amazed at her skill. She stood over him and placed her hands on her hips. "Fine, I'll prove it! But you'll be sorry!"

He raised a brow at her. With another humored grunt, he placed his hands behind his head, closing his eyes. "Well in that case, think I'll just keep considering you a girl. I dislike being sorry, plus I'm not all that into deflowering strays like yourself."

He heard her growl, heard clothing rustle. When he peeked, she had removed her leggings, though her tunic hung down just far enough to hide her gender from his view. His eyes followed her long, shapely legs and he could feel himself stir as he thought about how wonderful the rest of her young body must be. He closed his eyes again, staying relaxed and calm. She suddenly plopped down onto his lap on her knees, straddling him.

He looked at her through one eye. "Just like a child. You don't even know what to do. Quit wasting my time, I have a busy day tomorrow."

Fuming now, Calsa pulled at the strings of his leggings. "I know [i]exactly[/i] what to do!" She didn't stop to think about anything but defending her own pride. Once she pulled his pants open, though, she hesitated. He was larger than the other boys in the group she had been with. And it had been a month since they had all been caught and she'd been left alone.

"Scared of it now, are you, girl?" he mocked. He was hard, throbbing at the sensation of her small hands holding him.

She glowered up at him. "No," she snorted, though with less enthusiasm.

He nodded sharply. "Well, I'll give you credit. For a virgin girl you got quite far..."

That was the last straw! She positioned herself over him, guiding him to her entrance. "I'm not a girl!"

He suddenly gripped her shapely hips and pressed her down onto him. A deep gasp filled her lungs as he filled her inside. Then he grinned at her mockingly. "Oh, well, now I believe you."

She squirmed, feeling more filled then she had ever before. She breathed hard, not quite sure what to do now. She had proven her womanhood, but this was a new, wondrous sensation. The Ha'tinre chuckled. "I see you're no virgin, but you still haven't proven you know a thing about pleasing a man."

Clenching her teeth, Calsa tightened the walls of her passage, feeling some sense of accomplishment when she saw his jaw muscles twitch. Then he moved. He brought her up off of him and then pressed her down as he thrust up, impaling her. A moan forced its way from her throat. But he didn't give her a moment to think about it. He thrust hard into her, pulling her down onto him again and again. She moaned and panted, the intense pleasure replacing any thoughts.

He tilted his hips as he leaned her back, his movements precise and fluid. The sounds that escaped her, so instinctual and uncontrollable, tore from her throat though she tried hard to hold them in. She'd never had trouble staying quiet before. Even the very first time, when her older brother came to her bed when she was 13, after a narrow escape from several Templik guards who had discovered her for what she was, telling her he could never forgive himself if he allowed any of the Templik dogs to take her first. Even then she had been quiet to not alert the other sleeping boys. But here she was, unable to stop the sounds that came from almost as deep within as the Ha'tinre was, ravaging her heated sex.

He moved even harder and faster as her sounds became more urgent and harsh, her body writhing in his grasp. Her passage was tight but was getting wetter and wetter until he could feel it dripping down his inner thighs. He could feel her young body move against him, knew she was getting close to release. He tilted her back just a little more, a small amused grin on his face when he felt her whole body shudder, every fiber of her filling to bursting with the pleasure until it was as if the whole world melted away, her body tightening up and convulsing.

 
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