Fucking Bones

Shifting in his chair, Argon leans forward, stretching out his hand to slide two gleaming gold coins across the table to each girl. The metallic clink as they settle on the rough wooden surface sends a shiver of anticipation through the room.

Casting a glance over at Brolan, Argon stands, his armoured form casting an imposing shadow. "I think it's about time we turned in, Brolan. Long day tomorrow, you know," he says, his tone laced with a sort of carefree dismissal that suggests their day's work was hardly taxing at all.

His eyes shift to Mira, sparkling with a predatory gleam as he extends his hand towards her. She flinches as his rough, calloused hand wraps around her delicate wrist but doesn't resist as he pulls her to her feet. "Goodnight, Brolan," Argon calls out, a cruel smirk playing on his lips.

Steering Mira towards Dolan's room, Argon throws open the door, revealing a space that, despite being hastily tidied, still shows signs of Dolan's haphazard living. He moves towards the bed, lowering himself onto the plush mattress with a sigh of satisfaction.

Argon began to remove his remaining armour and tunic. Each piece clinked as he set them down on the chair, a metallic symphony playing in the quiet room. The cool night air felt good against his sweaty skin as he finally divested himself of the heavy, protective gear. He stretched out on the bed, his muscles relaxing after the long day.

Turning to Mira, he gestures vaguely towards her clothes, his eyes flicking up and down her form appraisingly. "Get undressed," he orders, his voice filled with a cold, commanding authority that leaves no room for argument. His gaze remains locked on her, a chilling reminder of his authority in this desperate situation.

Mira begins to comply, her slender fingers moving to the tie of her tunic. She unwraps it slowly, revealing her figure beneath the simple cloth. Despite the harsh circumstances that have whittled away some of her plumpness, her body still holds onto a soft, curvaceous silhouette.

Her breasts are amply rounded, pert beneath the constraints of the meagre fabric that used to cover them. Her waist tapers into a slim, feminine hourglass, flaring out to hips that still hold some of their ample widths. Her backside, while not as full as it might have been in times of plenty, still has a pleasing curve.

Her dark, wild curls tumble over her shoulders, spilling onto her bared skin like a cascade of midnight silk. Her eyes are deep pools of rich chocolate, sparking with a defiant resilience that not even hunger and fear could quench. Despite the sharp, cutting angles of her cheekbones and jawline, wrought by famine, her features hold onto a certain round softness that gives her a timeless, earthy beauty.

"With your mouth first," Argon said.

Mira nodded, acknowledging the demand Argon made of her. She then leaned in to perform the act, providing him oral sex, despite the clear discomfort in her eyes. Her resilience was evident, a stark reminder of the desperate situation they were all in. Argon merely laid back, enjoying the display of power and dominance. It was a twisted reminder of the village's plight and the brutal reign of Argon.

"Alright, that's enough; now bend over."

After Argon had said enough, he looked at Mira with an expression devoid of empathy and told her to bend over. Again, Mira pleaded with him, her voice barely more than a whisper, "This is my first time...could you be gentle?"

Argon snorted an abrasive sound that echoed in the small room. "More demands? You really are a high-maintenance girl, aren't you?" he grumbled, but despite his harsh words, he allowed her to adjust her position on the bed.

"Fine," he conceded, laying back and letting Mira set her own pace. It wasn't exactly the way he'd planned to end the night, but it was a compromise he could live with. After all, he reasoned, this was more about power than pleasure - the act of dominating the village extended even to this intimate act.

As Mira completed her task, Argon positioned himself behind her. Her backside was thin, the effects of malnutrition clearly visible, causing him some discomfort as he pressed himself against her. He frowned, finding the harsh reality of their situation slightly less enjoyable in such moments. But his resolve did not waver, a constant reminder of his power and position.

While Mira still displayed an alluring figure, her skeletal state due to the famine became increasingly apparent to Argon as he pressed himself against her. The usual softness he'd expect was replaced by a slightly bony structure that gave him an uncomfortable sensation. His grip on her tightened slightly as he steeled himself against the discomfort, focusing instead on asserting his dominance.

The night continued in this manner, Argon taking what he wanted from Mira and her doing her best to endure.

Argon's patience soon waned, and he began to set a more demanding pace. Mira's soft moans filled the room, a testament to his dominance. He took his time, the exertion pushing his endurance but ultimately satisfying his needs. Once he finished, he lay down, drained but satiated.

There was a rustic charm to this, an aspect of primal nature that brothels didn't offer. Argon relished the simple satisfaction it provided. But in terms of skill, Mira fell short. The whore in the brothel knew tricks and moves that left him breathless and wanting more. She would whisper sweet nothings into his ear, her voice a soothing balm that put him in a state of trance. Her massages were magical, kneading away his stress and leaving him feeling like a new man. Despite these shortcomings, the night with Mira served its purpose.

Mira lay on the far edge of the bed, the moonlight cascading through the window illuminating her silhouette. She was silent, her body unmoving in the otherwise still room. Her back was turned towards him, the curve of her waist and the arch of her back accentuated in the soft glow. Argon found himself studying her, a sense of peace falling over him.

Her hair spread out like a dark, tangled web on the pillow, glinting with the faintest hint of silver under the moon's light. The skin of her back was smooth and untouched, the bones of her spine just barely visible under the thin layer of skin. He found beauty in her strength, a resilience that was so apparent despite her frailty.

He noted the slight trembling of her shoulders, a soft sigh escaping her lips every once in a while. It wasn't the blissful sigh of satisfaction but more of relief - of a burden lifted, of survival. The sight of her stirred something in him, a feeling he didn't usually associate with his conquests. It was a sense of admiration, respect even, for her spirit. Her beauty was not just skin deep but carved out of hardship and survival.

Argon turned on his side, propping his head up on his arm as he continued to contemplate her. Her beauty was different, rustic and unrefined, but it had a certain charm that was undeniably attractive.

His breathing slowed, and he was soon claimed by a deep, restful sleep.