His Blood Stains My Skin Pt. 01

┃ M / M┃ Trans x Cis┃ Dubcon ┃ Age gap ┃

Content Warning: Trans man submitting and having pre op genitals. Consent is earned with moans.

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I could feel the still-warm ashes against my knees as they buried into the soft, grey ground underneath the shackles abrading against my wrists. Outside the tent, the freshly fallen ash would have burned my bare skin, but inside, I was somewhat safe from it, a thought which gave me a little comfort, as I knew what was going to happen soon. Forced on my knees and strapped to the deep black chains holding my body propped upright, I chastised myself for getting caught, for not being the Wayfarer that had been prophesied to bring down the calamity, who would bring the end of the known and unknown worlds with them - my own mentor. The man whom I had looked up to and seen as my father-like figure, far longer than my actual father.

Tonight had been supposed to be the first strike to end it all, to turn the tide against the man possessed and corrupted by an elder god. I had found the amulet that would give me and my group the upper hand, and I had the prophecy to back me up. Yet something had gone wrong, and the small army of loyal men and women I had acquired had been slain, my friends had disappeared- some had been perhaps captured, others might be dead - I did not know, and I feared that I would never learn what had happened to them. At first, I had wondered why I had not been killed outright, only to be reminded that the man who wanted me dead also liked to play games and for everything I had done to him in order to stop his plans, my former shell of a mentor would pay back tenfold, starting with my capture and ending with excruciatingly long death.

The chains holding me in place had buried themselves deep into my wrists, and I could feel the growing numbness spreading into my fingers, a pain which was only increased by the still lingering stinging burning on my chest from a strike that had brought me down. It had been a gaping wound only a few hours ago, but now there was only a large scar closed by the divine magic running in my blood. By the mercy, or malevolence, of the Divines, I had survived a blow that would have brought lesser men to the Death's gates, and by their choice, I would have to bear the burden of my demise.

I spared a few thoughts for my friends, hoping they were still alive somewhere, and I wished the prophecy had been a lie after all, that the real Wayfarer was still somewhere out there waiting to be found. For all the good I might have been able to do, I had not been the true chosen one, not by a long shot, and I could only hope that my death would bring the proper Wayfarer forward.

I flinch as the tent opens, fearing I'd see the man who would torture me soon enough, only to see another older man, one of the twelve generals of the Warlord, from the looks of him. The tall and broad-shouldered man looks at me with disgust in his sapphire blue eyes, which mark him almost as corrupted as my former mentor, along with the soot-ridden grey skin of his hidden only somewhat by the pearlescent armor made from the carapaces of the ardenback beetles. I can feel the man's eyes trail across my pitiful body, a gaze which would not find the hero he had been told to be wary of. For him, there were only bruises left on my pale gold skin and defeat in my dark eyes.

"Some Wayfarer were you, huh?" the man finally breaks his silence as he brushes his braided, dark beard and circles me like a nighten beast looking for its prey. "I was expecting to see more, the tales say you can breathe fire, swipe armies off without even looking, and even fly if you need to escape," the man added with a jeer in his gravelly voice.

"A real Wayfarer might be able to do that, but not me," I answered listlessly, not even raising my eyes from the ashes to meet his. If I had, I would have seen the flash of dread in the eyes of the man who was taunting me before vanishing into his affirming question. "... But you are Khayr of Tael, the only surviving student of the Warlord Sidaraq, yes?" The slight hesitation in his voice made me almost let out a small chuckle: We both had thought that I had been the Wayfarer, but once the truth about my status came to light and found its way into the ears of the Warlord, the general would certainly be slain for failing to capture the real one.

"I am," I replied back to the general, finally raising my gaze from the ground to see his grimace turn into a gleeful smile. "Then you are the Wayfarer," he added with a smirk on his face. There was no point in arguing with him, trying to make him see the truth. Whether or not he believed me, there was no surviving this. Even if his killing me instead of dying in the hands of my former mentor might be the quicker way to go, by posing as the Wayfarer, I might still buy time for the real one, and what better way there was to slap the Warlord in the face than living by his teachings of self-sacrifice? As soon as the cold steel of the unsheathed sword hit my skin, I began to doubt my decision. The general skims my skin with his sword, almost drawing blood as he walks around me in an endless circle.

"Good... Good..." The man mumbles to himself, assured by my lies that he has captured the right person. "As much as I'd like to kill you right now, Sidaraq has requested that we bring you to him unharmed, and I'm nothing but if not a loyal servant of his reign," the man taunted me before adding, "But he never asked you to be untouched." I could feel myself gulp out loud, and the general's sword pressing against my skin before pulling away. I let out a loud, scared yelp as the man hit me with the dull side of his curved sword. I can feel my knees dig into the ash beneath me as my heart is getting ready to jolt out of my ribcage.

"For a hero, you have soft and sensitive skin," the man smirks at me, "I would have thought that training years with the Warlord would have made your hide tougher, but you barely have any callouses in your hands. No wonder you failed." I steel myself, allowing him to believe whatever he wants to believe. Knowing I had done at least something to oppose my former mentor's vile plans and praying that he had another student hidden somewhere, maybe even one who had survived his rampage that had destroyed my home. The temple that he had used to train so many of us over the decades had been turned into cinders as soon as the elder god had taken over my mentor's body and soul, fusing with him like a gravestone might fuse with a tree, becoming something new and gruesome.

I let out another uncontrollable cry as the man slaps me with his sword again, relishing in my fear. No matter how many times I've been slashed, burned, or pummeled, I still fear the pain and the death as much as I've tried to deny it. When I had thought myself to be the hero from the legends, I had had some comfort, knowing that there was someone far more powerful than the evil elder god watching over me, protecting me from certain death, but that time was now over, and there was nothing left to catch me as I fall.

I feel another slap as the cold steel hits my skin, whispering to me that the next one might be a deep cut as its kiss leaves a stinging red mark on my skin. The general let out another laugh, revealing his vile nature as he took pleasure in my suffering and fear. Wherever it was, because of the corruption, or just something hidden inside them all along, everything my former mentor had poisoned was bound to turn gruel, and I had seen and heard too much to claim otherwise. Every person and soul he had decided to be worthy enough to be part of his ever-growing army had turned nefarious, and the general was not an exception.

The man knelt before me, sliding the tips of his sword right under my chin and forcing me to look at him. "What a wonderful sound you make when you're afraid, it's like music to my ears," he laughs, "But I must wonder, what sound would you make when feeling pleasure?" The taunting grin in his eyes make my whole body shiver while his sword drags against my body down to my chest, circling the area where I had once had nipples and slowly following the faint trail of dark hair past my navel all the way down to between my legs, pressing against the light bush and the tender skin inside my slid. "D-Don't..." I manage to whisper, my resolution of heroic sacrifice fading as the creeping dread slithers to bind my still-beating heart with a tight grip, "Sidaraq wants me unharmed."

"Don't worry, I will not leave lasting marks on you," the man quips before withdrawing his sword from my nether regions and standing up. "Besides, you'll heal fast," he adds with a menacing tone. I can't help but feel a wave of relief wash over me, even if my mind knows he is not done just yet. He slaps me again with his sword, hitting my exposed rear from behind and compelling another high-pitched cry to escape between my lips. His fingers curl around my neck, and I'm forced to rise to my aching feet as the man behind me lifts me up. I can feel his crooked nose against my left shoulder, taking in a scent he seems to enjoy.

"A hero taken by a mere general before being tortured by the conqueror," the man threatens me as my legs shiver underneath me, the change in my pose allowing more blood into them and a numbness making room for a static tingling in my muscles. Each movement I make sends stinging shivers from my legs all over my body, forcing me to whimper while the man holding me up slides his free hand from behind me between my thighs and spreads my lips open with his fingers. His wide fingers find my herb-engorged clit effortlessly and begin to massage it with harsh motions.

"Pain and pleasure are the different sides of the same coin," he whispers into my ear, giving it a small nip between the gasping breaths I take, "It's been some time since I've gotten my cock wet and it looks like you're more than eager to mend my situation," with his taunting words I realize to my horror how wet I've become, his wanting fingers kneading my clit with powerful, circling movements while my hole drips with my fluids spread by his hand. "What's a little pleasure before eternal torture?" The general taunted again against my ear with his heaving, armored chest pressing against my upper back. My mouth wants to moan, but I force it back into my throat, fighting my more than eager body with all of my might. I had never expected to be in a situation like this, standing in a tent with my hands and legs spread wide with chains as one of my worst enemies is making me feel things I have no power over, the fear of death steadily disappearing as my body sends my mind signals to free itself from another set of chains.

"You've been a thorn on Sidaraq's side for too long, boy. He will do horrible things to you, I have heard every single detail, but right now he's busy and I have needs to fulfill," I hear a demeaning voice behind me saying. The man's fingers give me a moment to breathe as he quickly unties the leather straps holding his armor and drops it to the ground. Without even looking at him, I can sense his toned body as he pushes it against mine again. The man's fingers find my clit again and begin to massage it again, rubbing the small hood of my clit against it and sending jolts of small buzzes inside my body. I can feel his protruding erection hidden behind his tunic hit against my back as he grinds his body against me, still holding and squeezing my neck tightly while his other hand works my hood. I want to deny my body what it wants and has needed for so long. Being the Wayfarer has made me distant even from my closest friends, and as the chosen one, I've put my needs behind the needs of others. Now, captured and soon to be tortured, I could leave my imagined fate behind and submit to this man, yet something in the back of my mind tells me to resist, to fight him even if I don't want to.

Suddenly, two of the general's fingers slip inside my hole while his thumb continues to put pressure on my clit. He spreads my hole open, exploring my dripping opening with swirling motions and slowly coaxing more of my fluids onto his hand. His fingers push against the roof of my entrance, pressuring my clit from the inside, and I find myself moaning out loud as my eyes hazily look into nothingness. The man squeezes my neck even more, and I can't draw full breaths any longer. Just before I pass out, he releases me, and I gasp for more. "M-music to my- e-ears..." The man echoes with huffs, and I can no longer feel my chains, only the bliss of my body being pleasured by my sworn enemy. I need to have him inside me, to claim my body before my mentor is no longer busy enough to deal with me. To give me one final moment of satisfaction and fulfillment before it is all taken away.

The general let go of my throat for a moment to pull up his tunic and to plunge his swollen member between my legs, soaking it with my fluids and rubbing it against my pussy before quickly grabbing my neck again and holding onto it. Feeling his sizzling wet tip hit against my clit I imagine him entering me, taking my purity and breeding me like a stallion breeds a mare. Knowing my next cycle is still a few weeks away and how quickly I had submitted to this man, deep within my mind, I knew I was at my most fertile point of the month, a thought which shocked me back into reality.

"No! Stop!" I yelled while the man's grasp squeezed my throat tighter, immediately I felt the spreading warmth between my tights explode into a thrilling convulsion which sent a wave of trembling rapture all over me, making me gasp as it reached the tip of my toes all the way the to the top of my head, forcing my body to contort as a blissful storm brewed by it made my mind go blank. Not able to hold myself up, I slumped down and lost my balance, only to be held up by the man behind me, still thrusting his wet member between my legs, each thrust sending a slightly fainter wave of pleasure within my body and making me unable to fight him. Like a ragdoll, I swung with the momentum and my pussy milked the man's fingers still inside me.

The cloth covering the tent's entrance veered open, and soldiers stepped inside, her eyes clouded with the same blue tone everyone bearing the corruption had. The general immediately let go of me, and I dropped to the soft, ashen ground, feeling the chains in my wrists to let out a loud chime as they got tighter and held my upper body up when there was no strength left in me. The soldier looked at both of us, unsure of what to do before delivering her message.

"The Warlord is ready for him," she mumbled, embarrassed as dark redness spread on her grey cheeks and she turned her eyes to the ground, before adding "Now" with an empathizing tone.

Relieved by the fact that the intruder had not been the warlord, the general let out a sigh of relief, my fluids still glistening on his unspent pole throbbing with need that had been denied. He quickly redressed, with only his armor allowing him to hide his erect member as he muttered angrily to himself, shushing away the guard and telling her to send in the people who would take me to the warlord. "Damn..." the man cursed, "were you anything but the Wayfarer, I'd make you part of my concubine, with those moans you'd be my favourite." In my continuous blissful state, I could still sympathize with his remorse. My body still wanted to be mounted and bred, even though I had already reached an orgasm, and knowing that this was all I could gain left me dejected. I could only hope I could ride this blissful feeling longer than the warlord had punishments for me.

Soon, the general disappeared from the tent almost as quickly as he had arrived, and a pair of guards picked me up, chaining me to a stretcher like they had used when bringing my wounded, unconscious wreck into the war camp, and pulled me out of the safety of the tent, taking me to the warlord himself.