The Warrior Princess slowly climbed to her feet and, arms in the air, stretched her full length. She had been resting in the thick grass in an attempt to regain her strength, and yet h sleep hadn't found her. Every time she had closed her eyes, the happenings of the previous twenty four hours returned to her like a multi-coloured dream.
Except that it hadn't been a dream...
The Demon Queen had so easily outwitted her—humbled her and stripped her of all dignity. The way she had used her overheated body time and time again for her lewd gratification would live with the Warrior Princess forever.
And then ... the ultimate humiliation. She had been set free.
Her life had been spared so that she could return to her people and tell the tale of her degradation. But how could she head home in such disgrace? There would be no welcome for her back in the East. Only further shame at being vanquished so easily...
To compound her embarrassment the Demon Queen had ensured that the sexual spell—if that indeed was what it was—still resided deep within her. Despite the long hours spent serving her victorious foe, a fire had been lit inside her and that place between her thighs craved more...
Shaking the unwanted thoughts away, she glanced around her as she tried to contain the gloomy feeling that was rapidly descending on her very soul. She couldn't go home, she couldn't stay here—she was an outcast. But just as she felt matters couldn't get worse, a loud crash from the nearby shrubbery startled her.
Her heart sank when she saw two Orc's charging toward her, screaming and spewing curses in their guttural language. Was there to be no end to her misfortune?
She might have survived her previous encounters with the foul and vicious creatures, but this time she was weak and—with her sword lying in the grass a few paces away from where she stood—she was unarmed.
-----
The green-skinned Orcs were so intent on their quarry that they failed to notice the hunter emerge from the trees, just a few paces away from the Warrior Princess. His brown and gray clothing was intended to blend into the undergrowth and on this occasion it served its purpose perfectly.
The lead Orc was close to the hunter now and yet only caught sight of its adversary when it was too late. With a grunt, the man's powerful arm muscles propelled the axe in his hand in a tight, deadly arc and split its skull in two.
The sound of its death-throw screams alerted the second Orc to his presence, but rather than take stock the wart-covered creature instantly resumed its attack. Swinging away from the Warrior Princess at the last second, its crude fighting knife caught its new enemy on the right leg just as the hunter attempted to nimbly step to one side.
Even as a gush of blood spurted from the wound, the hunter had enough strength to slice his axe into the Orc's left shoulder, nearly severing his arm. The creature screamed, but still managed to kick the hunter's legs from under him as it fell to the ground.
The hunter went down with him, receiving a disgusting wash of the Orc's fetid breath in his face on the way. Despite his severe handicap, the creature fortuitously landed on top of the man and instantly swept his knife towards his gut before he could recover. The blow would undoubtedly have killed him had it reached its target.
But it miraculously stopped a few inches short of its target...
The Warrior Princess had recovered her long sword from the grass beside her and severed the Orc's descending arm mid-swing. With a wailing cry that embodied all the frustration and anger she inhabiting her body, a second swish buried the blade in the creature's muscled torso up to the hilt.
Temporarily at least, the danger had been expunged.
The hunter breathed heavily as he pushed up onto his elbows. His gaze found the two corpses on the grass, their bodies still twitching even now, before his gaze alighted onto the naked woman standing over him.
Her golden locks were the colour of sunshine, some bound into a pony tail behind her head but half had fallen free in the encounter, framing her high cheeks and thick lips. She was naked except for her calf length black boots, with dark nipples that stood proud and erect on her high breasts. Her gently curving hips led to shapely and well-toned thighs, between which was the most amazing cleanly-shaven sex.
He had lain with many women without ever seeing so much of their skin exposed. Had he ever seen such an enchanting sight? For a few moments, he was so entranced by her voluptuousness that he was unable to draw his gaze away.
"Like what you see?" he heard her ask, although her tone of voice was not mocking in any way.
Indeed, as his appreciative eyes returned to her beautiful face, the smile that touched the corner of her lips suggested she welcomed his openly admiring glance.
-----
The Warrior Princess felt the heat of the man's gaze in her needy sex as he scrambled to his feet. He had saved her from the Orc attack but, more importantly, was he the answer to her immediate problem?
"Please allow me to introduce myself," he told her, crisply bowing at the neck once he was standing upright. "I am from the land of Beckfoot. Please call me Hunter."
The Warrior Princess nodded in return, but made no move to reveal her own name. Such was her shame, she was unsure if she had a real identity any more.
"You are hurt, Hunter," she said instead, letting her eyes linger over his muscular torso before glancing towards the knife wound in his injured thigh.
There was a ragged tear in his breeches and the wound was bleeding steadily, staining the material. It needed immediate attention. She looked about and spotted a largish stone protruding from the loamy soil of the forest.
"Sit upon that stone and I will tend it," she told him. "I have some small skill at such things."
He smiled lopsidedly, bowing for a second time as he eased down onto the stone as requested.
The Warrior Princess sat beside him, unfastening the tie that held his breeches together without a word and tugging the garment to his knees. It was necessary to have full access to the wound if she was going to tend to him, but she did not anticipate the sudden movement in his groin through his undergarment. He was growing hard.
Swallowing quickly, she reached into the small leather pouch attached to her waist and opened one of the numerous tiny pockets sewn into the sides. When she removed a tiny vial and uncapped it, the strong smell of cinnamon hit the air.
"This will sting, Hunter," she told him, tipping a couple of drops into the wound.
His body tensed up and he gritted his teeth as the liquid bit into his flesh. It did more than sting, not that he intended to show any more than the minimum of discomfort.
"Then it will go numb," she added, "and the woundwort will also guard the wound from infection."
She returned the vial to its assigned pouch and produced a very small needle and a length of thread. She passed it through the eye as if it were as large as a finger ring.
"You'd better grit those teeth again," she said, with a sympathetic glance before beginning her task.
Working from left to right, she sewed the wound in his flesh shut, feeling him flinch each time the needle pierced his flesh. The numbness hadn't fully kicked in yet.
