Chapter Text
The air in the Erebonian barracks hung thick with the scent of sweat, gunpowder, and unbridled lust. Rixia Mao, the fierce Crossbell fighter, knelt in the center of the dirt-packed yard, her wrists bound behind her back with rough rope that bit into her skin. Her lithe body, clad in the remnants of her torn combat gear, trembled not just from the chill of the evening but from the leering eyes of the soldiers encircling her. Her team had been ambushed during a skirmish on the border, and now she was the prize of their victory—captured by the very man who led the charge: Rean Schwarzer.
The general, a burly man with a scarred face and a voice like grinding gravel, stepped forward, his boots kicking up dust. "This one's a spitfire, Schwarzer," he barked, gesturing at Rixia with a meaty hand. "Crossbell scum who thought she could stand against the Empire. The men want a piece, but I'll make it interesting. You take her first—right here, in front of everyone. Rape the fight out of her. Show these dogs how it's done."
A murmur of approval rippled through the ranks, crude jeers and catcalls echoing off the wooden barracks walls. Rixia lifted her chin defiantly, her dark eyes flashing with hatred, but inside, fear coiled tight in her gut. She knew what came next—gangs of soldiers descending on her, using her body until nothing remained but broken flesh.
Rean, tall and composed in his imperial uniform, approached slowly, his black hair falling slightly over his eyes. He was no brute; his reputation as a skilled swordsman preceded him, but there was a gentleness in his posture that set him apart. As he knelt before her, close enough that only she could hear, his voice dropped to a whisper. "I wish you no harm. I'm not like them. Play along, and if an opening comes, I'll get you out of here."
Her heart stuttered. Trust an Erebonian? But his eyes held sincerity, not the feral hunger of the others. Before she could respond, his hands moved—gentle at first, sliding up her thighs, fingers tracing the smooth, toned muscles beneath the ripped fabric of her pants. He cupped her big breasts through her top, thumbs brushing over the hardening nipples, kneading the soft flesh with expert pressure that sent unwelcome sparks through her core.
The soldiers watched, shifting impatiently. "Come on, Schwarzer, don't tease her!" one shouted. Another stepped forward, hand on his belt. "If you're too soft, we'll help. Let us show you how to break a bitch."
Panic surged in Rixia's chest. If they joined in, Rean would be exposed, and she'd face a nightmare. "Please," she whispered urgently, her voice breaking as she leaned into his touch, "Just do it. Take me now, before they... before it's too late." She forced a moan, arching her back to press her breasts harder into his palms, faking the pleasure to sell the act.
But she didn't need to fake for long. Rean's touch was no clumsy grope; he was skilled, his fingers slipping under her top to pinch and roll her nipples until they ached with real heat. He untied her wrists just enough to free her arms, then yanked her pants down her hips, exposing the dark curls between her legs. His hand dipped lower, fingers parting her folds, stroking her clit with precise circles that made her gasp—for real this time. "That's it," he murmured against her ear, his breath hot. "Let it feel good."
The soldiers cheered as Rean positioned her on all fours in the dirt, her ass raised toward him. He freed his cock from his trousers—thick and hard, veins pulsing along its length—and rubbed the head against her entrance. Rixia bit her lip, bracing for pain, but he pushed in slowly, inch by inch, stretching her pussy with a fullness that bordered on overwhelming. She cried out, a mix of shock and building sensation, her walls clenching around him involuntarily.
Rean gripped her hips, thrusting deeper, his pace steady and controlled. Each slide of his cock dragged against her inner walls, hitting spots that made her toes curl. "Fuck, you're tight," he groaned, loud enough for the audience, but his hand reached around to rub her clit again, syncing with his hips. Rixia's faked moans turned genuine; pleasure coiled low in her belly, her body betraying her as wetness slicked his shaft. She rocked back against him, chasing the friction, her big breasts bouncing with every impact.
The soldiers hooted, some stroking themselves through their pants, but Rean's eyes scanned the perimeter. A gap in the guards—distracted by the show—opened near the treeline. As he pounded into her harder, his balls slapping against her, he leaned down and whispered, "Now. Hit me hard, make it look real. Run for the forest."
Rixia nodded, her climax building despite everything. With a final, deep thrust that sent her over the edge—her pussy spasming around his cock, milking him as she came with a shuddering cry—she twisted and slammed her fist into his jaw. Rean staggered back, his cock slipping free, glistening with her juices. "You little—" he snarled for show, clutching his face as she scrambled to her feet, pants around her ankles.
She kicked them off and bolted, bare legs pumping as she sprinted toward the shadows. Branches whipped at her skin, but she didn't stop, heart pounding with adrenaline and the aftershocks of unwanted ecstasy. Behind her, shouts erupted—"She's escaping!"—but Rean's voice cut through, feigning anger to buy her time.
Reaching the forest's edge, Rixia dove into the underbrush, weaving through trees until the barracks lights faded. She collapsed against a trunk, chest heaving, her body still humming from the intense fucking. Glancing back through the leaves, she saw the chaos: soldiers scrambling, Rean standing tall amid them. A pang hit her—gratitude, curiosity, a spark of something more. One day, she vowed silently, she'd find that gentleman again. In a world of war, he'd given her not just escape, but a taste of pleasure amid the ruin.