Hopeless

WARNINGs - NC17 Violence and Rape

Comes after HOPE

The problem with being able to smell things well before you see them is it takes so long to get there and you know damn well something bad is happening and you can't do anything about it! Richard could smell the fire, but even at his heightened speed, he was not making progress fast enough to suit him. When Phoenix had said he reminded her of Duncan MacLeod, she hadn't meant only physically. (Actually, he was a cross between Duncan and Hercules, whom she also knew personally; the hair was Herc's, the body Dunc's.) He was also, if not the World's Greatest Boy Scout, then the head leader in the same troop. Someone was being threatened now, and he wanted to get there as quickly as possible to see what he could do.

The irony was that, until recently, he had refused to kill. He was driven to help, but would rather not use his superhuman strength and speed, not to mention his sharp teeth and claws, to rid the world of the murderous vermin who were no doubt burning the castle. He was working on instinct now, however, and his gut told him he had to save Camelot.

But as he cleared the trees surrounding the area, he screeched to a halt, appalled. He thought he would be facing men! Or, if not, then perhaps Calista in animal form. What he saw frightened him so much he began shaking. One side of the castle was being menaced by a fire-breathing dragon!

It had to be Calista. Richard simply had not thought her *other* would be this severe! One tower of the castle complex was burning uncontrollably while a few men tried to douse it with water. They were not fast enough to halt its progress. There didn't seem to be very many inhabitants; had the rest been killed already?

Although Richard could change forms at will, not requiring the standard 8 hours in wolf form (any less would deplete any other lycanthrope's energy to the point where a deep sleep was required to recover), it had been a long day even so. He shifted, then quickly dressed and made a dash for the drawbridge. It had been damaged but was still workable, and the damage was not due to fire.

Calista saw him just as those inside Camelot did; she turned to him but the dragon form moved too slowly and she was all the way to one side, concentrating her efforts on the tower because it was at flame level. They were able to get the bridge down and Richard in before she made it around.

"We can use all the manpower we can find," a young man said to him. There was a bandage of stained white cotton on his forehead. "The Eastern Tower is afire and most of our knights have gone!"

"Where are they?" asked Richard, hoping they were not dead.

"Some men menaced us," the man said as they went toward the fire, "and our knights went to capture them. But while they were away, we who remained were attacked by another band of men; apparently they had split in two to work a ruse upon us! I am Roland, a mere blacksmith," he went on, "and my days of rallying the people to action led me nearly to my death! When I closed my eyes, awaiting execution, and ended up here, I swore to remain at my anvil from that time hence, or I would have ridden with the knights, I assure you! I volunteered to watch the women but alas, we were overrun by the second band of outlaws and I was hit on the head." He showed Richard his bandage. "Then they chained me in the dungeon, which was so like my other life I admit to being frightened by the similarity. Fortunately I was released when they left, but the women - all of them - were taken away."

Richard's stomach dropped. "How many?"

"Three handmaidens, and . . . Lady Melissa."

They were up to the fire. Two men were passing up buckets. Richard had them fill the biggest barrels they had. Then, lifting them easily, he sprinted them toward the fire.

He was busy at it when Roland said: "There is a naked woman by the drawbridge!"

"Don't let her in! That's the dragon!"

"What?"

The fire was still smoldering, but he had doused most of it. Jumping down, Richard raced toward the drawbridge, where he then climbed up to the lookout.

"He is not here, Calista!" he called down. "No one was left here but a few men, left for dead or chained in the dungeon so they could not follow. They took the women and left." He sniffed the air. "It's hard to tell with all this smoke, but I think they went that way!"

"You lie! His scent is strong here! And he needs no woman but me!"

"Maybe he didn't know you were here!"

Roland climbed up to be next to the werewolf. "They took four women with them," he said, eyeing her nude body while he tried to fathom how *she* could be the dragon. "I swear it on the blood of Christ!"

Calista spit in the dirt. Then she looked the way Richard had indicated. He didn't know which man she was following, and there were scents in both directions. He was basing his advice on what Roland had said - and he was sending her in the wrong direction. He knew he could not save the women himself, and would have to run back to Esperanza or Edan, but if he could get her to go toward the other band, and the knights, he could keep her from aiding the men who had done the kidnapping. He seriously doubted Calista would help the women.

She seemed to debate it. Maybe she smelled her mate the other way. But the stench of smoke was heavy, and having just turned from a fire-breathing dragon, her own sense of smell was ruined, at least for now. Finally she decided to take his word for it. After shifting into her tiger form - to the astonishment of poor Roland - she took off to the east. Her mate, and Camelot's women, had gone to the west.

***

Kronos grinned evilly as he heard the screams of the women. Three he'd given over to the other men in his half of the hunting party; they would make good slaves but he would not trouble himself with them otherwise. But the one they called Lady Melissa, ah, well, there was a catch! A virgin, if he didn't miss his guess. His brothers were checking that out right now.

Kronos grinned as the girl, blindfolded and gagged, was tied naked to four posts in the ground. They were in his tent, while the other women were being ravaged under the moonlight. For now, four men were sharing three women. The women would have to take on two more shortly, he thought, watching as Caspian spread Melissa's folds to begin exploring; Caspian and Silas were there to get his sweet virgin ready for him only; then he would tear her open with his pulsing organ. Then the other screaming women would have to take on the other half of his men as well, when they returned from their wild-goose chase. Their screams had him so hard he ached. It was great, and it was going to get better.

But he would not take his treasure just yet. He liked them wet, and it was amazing how rarely they got that way on their own! The only two he could trust to get her that way for him were Silas and Caspian, though Caspian had to be watched not to take too much. Kronos wanted wet, though not necessarily bloody. This was a mortal woman; she'd bleed enough when he busted her. If Caspian bit into her, it defeated the purpose of having a nice tight box, didn't it?

She was fighting it, crying and squirming as Caspian's tongue went deep. Silas was grunting, his hands between his legs. One of the unlucky ones outside would be tasting his hunk of meat in due time. That's if his slower brother had the patience to last that long. Silas looked at him with pleading eyes and he nodded slightly. Laughing joyfully, the large Horseman got on his knees and began fondling and tonguing Melissa's nipples and breasts.

She was screaming into her gag, but it wouldn't stop. Caspian kept a steady stimulation up until she could no longer resist, her body reacting despite the terror and revulsion she had to be feeling. Without skipping a beat, Kronos' two wonderful brothers traded places.

The girl with the golden hair and the silvery blonde bush screamed again, but it was only starting over. Kronos reached down to brush himself lightly; any more would ruin it. He was so ready for her, but he wanted her lubricated, and he enjoyed hearing her come repeatedly, against her will. They were usually able to resist it when they were being raped, especially the virgins. He did not understand why they failed to get pleasure in pain. But this always left them juicy and hot, and so totally freaked out about it that it broke them completely.

He loved it.

The tent flap opened. The screams were louder with it open, and the sound of men humping was music to his ears. Turning his head, he saw his remaining brother enter, nod and then take in the woman tied to the ground. Her eyes opened for a moment and seemed to recognize him; a look of sheer confusion passed over her face. It was quickly replaced by one of pain, as Caspian bit down on her nipple, drawing blood.

"I have something for you," Methos said calmly.

"Yes? What is it?"

He looked again at the woman, who was sobbing uncontrollably. "You have to see."

Kronos laughed. "All right." He turned to his men and, sighing, said, "Keep her wet. Make her come three more times if you have to, but if either of you take her, I will castrate you."

And they knew he meant it.

"Can we get creative?" asked Caspian.

"Do as you like, as long as she is wet and tight when I get back." He paused, a slow smile spreading over his face. "Both holes, I mean." Caspian swore, and Kronos laughed.

Then he stepped outside with Methos. The men had doubled up on the handmaidens. If they survived the night, they would be totally broken. Perfect slaves, Kronos thought. He had solved the problem of no women in Sadaam, his sweet little home away from home. There weren't enough for all the mostly Immortal men in town, but it was a good start. He was sure there were more women somewhere on this world, and when he found them, he'd just add them to their captives.

As proof of this, Methos waved his hand and two of the dumber men, Kern and Durgan, dragged a woman off Methos' horse. "Why, Brother!" Kronos said, delighted. "How did you know what I wanted for Christmas?"

"Just making up for keeping her from you," said Methos coolly. The woman was dragged over by the hair, then her head was wrenched back painfully. It was Cassandra.

She fought, but her arms and legs were tied, and there wasn't much she could do to break free. She was also gagged. Fear and resentment blazed in her eyes, but Kronos was delighted. "First my sweet blonde cunt, then Cassandra, to do with as I please. Oh, Brother, you've made me so happy."

Methos raised a hand. "Not so fast. If you want Cassandra, then I get the virgin."

"But that's nonsense!"

"No, it is not. New world, new rules, Kronos. You may run Sadaam, but you don't run me. You never did. I know what you're going to do to Cassandra . . . she at least will heal. The virgin will not. I have already had Cassandra; you have not. You want to take the virgin, ruin her for the rest of us, then have Cassandra as well? You have your anger to make it sweet. Give me the virgin; I think I've earned her."

Kronos seethed with rage. But he needed Methos. It had been his plan that had worked to perfection tonight, *and* he had led the other party away so the knights could chase a red herring. To top it off, he'd discovered Cassandra! Oh, Kronos would make her pay. He'd have her repeatedly, and so would every man in the party. Hell, she'd survive it - more than the human women they'd taken. Yes, the thought appealed to him. He'd tell the men to stop raping the handmaidens, so they would survive to do their bidding back in town. Then one by one they would take turns with Cassandra. The plan had merit.

What was one pale virgin compared to that?

Finally he nodded. Ducking his head into the tent, he chuckled as he saw how creative his Brothers had gotten. They'd had to retie her, but they had managed to insert fingers or tongues - but nothing else - in just about every hole they could find.

"Come, boys," he laughed. "I have amusements."

"Better than this?" Silas asked, licking his lips slowly. Melissa sobbed.

"Much better. Do you remember Cassandra?"

Laughing over their adjusted plans, the three men left the tent. Methos was alone with a rather shaken up and oddly tied Melissa. Seeing him, she tried to get her breath. He had come to save her! Hadn't he been the one to give her medicine when she was sick at the castle? Somehow he'd get her out of this. Somehow. . .

But then her eyes grew wide with horror. Because he was shedding his clothing, and the look in his eye was lustful, not healing.

***

Well before dawn they saddled up their horses and broke camp. No one had gotten any sleep, least of all the women, who were sobbing and barely able to walk, but their captors knew they could not tarry long. They'd had enough pleasure to last them the long ride home.

Melissa was carried, hands and ankles tied, to a tall grey horse. She was still stunned by the night's events. All female clothing had been destroyed, so Melissa, like all the rest, was wrapped in a blanket before she was slung over the horse's shoulders. Then she was strapped to the saddle, and Methos climbed on with his prize. His face never changed its stony expression.

Others of the party were laughing with glee at the night of debauchery they'd just experienced. Cassandra's unconscious body was brought to Kronos' horse. Kronos noticed and, grinning, said, "My dear brothers! Haven't I proven how generous I am? Kantos, you keep her for today, will you? I know your craving for her matched my own."

"A craving I have since quenched," said Roland Kantos modestly.

"I'll take her!" The Kurgan boomed, lifting her easily and throwing her limp body over his saddle. He'd had to take off the woman he'd put there previously, and she moaned from the ground, where she lay helplessly.

Silas reached down into the mud and dung, lifting the reject so he could tie her to his horse. This act was punctuated by a rumbling laugh.

As soon as the slaves were tied to the horses, their riders mounted and turned toward the south. They were on their way home. But they hadn't gotten far when an orange blur came through the darkness, pushing Kronos off his horse.

He recognized the growl immediately. "Calista?"

She shifted, but her teeth were still bared, and her hands were around his neck. "You've been unfaithful to me!"

There were some snickers from the crowd. Methos shushed them all with a dark look.

Kronos pushed her back. She sprawled, naked, in the dirt. Growling, she started to rise, and so did he. He honestly *had* missed her. "How was I to know you were here? And don't be ridiculous. We might be mated, but there was never any agreement to be faithful."

"With this trash?" Calista asked, standing. Even covered in mud her body was perfect. She came over to the tied women, lifting the blankets to inspect them. "They are not worthy of you."

"My dear," Kronos said icily, "you must have a head cold. Surely you can tell which one I've had."

Calista eyed him. She held the gaze for an impossibly long time, but Kronos never flinched. That's why they were perfectly mated. Finally she broke the connection and continued looking over the women. Methos stood his ground, kneeing his horse, Reaper, so the stallion sidestepped out of Calista's way. She looked up and into his eyes; memory seemed to flash and she broke the connection much more quickly than she had with Kronos. Methos could outstare her and she knew it. She settled for sniffing the air and, satisfied Kronos had not had commerce with the woman strapped to Methos' saddle, she moved on to the Kurgan's.

She was literally staggered by the scent of this captive. Turning to look at Kronos, her eyes asked a silent question.

"Merely payment for a previous slight, my dear," Kronos grinned evilly. "Then, as you can well see, I gave her away. Everyone here, with the exception of Methos, who was otherwise occupied," he nodded at Methos' cargo, "had her after I was done. And as you can also plainly see, she is not strapped to my horse, but Victor's."

Somewhat mollified, Calista went to Kronos' stallion and mounted. The Head Horseman grinned. He'd won. And he was now assured of a woman in his bed no matter what. Life was good.

He mounted behind her and then waved his men toward home.