Tag Archives: Storie Game

Storie Game – 600 Words of Romance


Today’s Music: Scorpions – Rock You Like A Hurricane
Days Til Spring: 10
Vina’s Storie Book (Romance Edition) Challenge is underway. click for the Rules and Part 1
Hobbler contributed Part 2

Just a quick note – I don’t really write Romance. After reading the below, I’m pretty sure that’s a good thing.

So be it.
I tightened the leather armor around my broad, muscled chest. I drew my sword, stepping out from behind the jagged up thrust rock.
“Behold”, I announced, “I have come for my beloved.”
The tip of my sword spun decisively to the two craven fools holding her. I advanced upon them, as, sneering, they drew their weapons.
Hope cried out form within her cage – “My love!”
Was there fear in her quavering voice? I looked away from my opponents to take in her gorgeous visage, her locks of flaming red, the heaving of her bosom. The sight of her sweat besmirched décolletage, and the sadness and terror on her wide, engulfing eyes only spurred me to greater anger.
I raised my sword up high.
“Father” I bellowed. “Show yourself!”
The two guardsmen rushed at me. I dispatched one instantly with one shrewd flick of my wrist, my lean, sweat glistening limbs completing their appointed task..
His companion was more of a challenge.
We circled each other, the swarthy inner province man, his long dark hair swaying in waves as the moonlight glistened down upon us.
His eyes caught the light – glinting savagely, hungrily at me. I watched his body as his strong frame clenched, relaxed, clenched.
I found myself growing more tense as I watched for signs of what he would do, studying his handsome figure.
He came towards me, slowly.
For a moment, I was stunned, rooted to my spot by the power of his gaze.
What is this I was experiencing? What feelings were these as I imagined I could feel his hot, intamed breath against my soft cerulean skin?
I jerked my head, snapping out of it as he closed upon me.
Our swords clashed, each fighting for mastery over the other. Thrust, parry, recoil. Counterstrike.
A fluid, vital ballet, a dance with meanings layered within layers.
“Is this what you wanted?” he asked, taunting me. “Is this what love is to you? Giving your life for a woman?- I mean, a woman so easily captured?”
He stopped, unsure for a moment. My bare hand slapped at his free arm, grazing the wiry curls of hair draped on his arm. I seized his shoulder, spinning him around and coming up behind him, my arm sliding it’s sinewy way under his neck to press his back against my chest.
I heard Hope gasp. Turning to her, I saw her dainty hand covering the small moue of her raspberry red lips. The cage hadn’t been locked, and she surged out of it, her dress catching and ripping, leaving her alabaster legs exposed.
She ran over to me, fitting herself to me, under my sword arm.
She buried her head against me, the soft sound of tears muffled by the leather.
I felt my opponent writhe, seeking purchase and freedom, but I continued to overpower him. The three of us stood, our musky scents intertwining, rolling over each other.
I leaned even closer to the enemy, my hot breath on his ear.
“Where is my father?”
He stiffened, an involuntary reaction, But I felt it, his being betrayed by his own biology. I savored the moment of strength and control, the thrill of him answering to my will.
I leaned even closer, our sweat intermingling as I continued the moment of dominating intimacy.
“I’ll not ask again” I whispered, watching the thick locks of ear hair way in my breath.
Hope wriggled out from between us, her small, firm buttocks grinding against me as she escaped the overwhelming aroma of maleness.
She drew my dagger from my belt…

Part 4 is being handed off to Gillian Colbert.

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