Stories Hub / Lesbian Sex / The Lowlander Pt. 01

The Lowlander Pt. 01

by KillerRomance 12/29/17

You know TFW your brain baby isn't as perfect as you imagined it would be yet it's been months and months and nothing's changed? So you're just okay with it and decide to move on? Yes, that's what happened here.

Comments and e-mails are always appreciated! Yes, I reply to them all (as long as they make sense -- lol!)

Check out my bio for more info and artwork for 'The Lowlander'.

Part I

"Stop it."

Hanna rattled the chains that bound her to the earthen floor, her knees scratched and bruised from the hours she'd spent on them. She looked longingly at the large windows, knowing full well that given half the chance, she'd throw herself out of it, come what may.

The coven had a mission to complete -- their final mission before they were dissolved altogether. When Mistress Linette had passed two days ago, no one had expected it, even Linette, who'd been a talented prophet. She hadn't appointed a successor and the High Council had determined there wasn't going to be another in their little town of Caverna.

Her coven sisters had been on their last pilgrimage to Eden Coast to scatter Linette's ashes when they'd trespassed on scared Lowland territory. It had been a stupid plan -- they'd all known the risks but passing through the Lowlands was a significant shortcut.

It really hadn't been worth getting caught by the native Lowland tribe.

She watched the tall woman who captured her sit heavily on her bed and work on the sets of ties that held her boots together. She worked meticulously, her long fingers moving quickly over the leather.

Jem, they'd called her. No last name. A warrior, and a skilled one from the way she'd deflected Hanna's every attempt to escape. But not quickly enough -- the angry red marks on Jem's cheek and neck gave Hanna a sense of pride... and a little bit of regret for marking a beautiful canvas.

Jem's muscles were well-honed from years of training; the way they flexed and relaxed as she worked was intriguing. Her blonde hair was cut short, much to Hanna's envy. It wouldn't get in the way of battle as her own dark tresses had done several times before, despite the fact that she always wore it in a thick braid. But the cutting of hair or altering the body in any way was considered sacrilegious by the coven.

"Are you done?" Jem's low voice cut across the room.

"What?" Hanna asked, trying not to wince at the scrape of rusty metal against her wrists.

"Fighting the restraints will only hurt you."

"That doesn't mean I won't try."

Jem shrugged and stood in her bare feet, her toes digging into the bearskin rug around the bed as she stretched. The pop of her joints could be heard all the way across the room.

"How long do I have to stay this way?"

"Until the Council decides what to do with your coven."

"I would like to see my sisters."

"No. That only spells trouble."

"It was stupid," Hanna said, her voice barely a whisper. "We shouldn't have trespassed. It was just the closest way to the Coast."

"I know."

Jem tugged her vest over her head and let it fall to the floor. The quick intake of breath across the room was unmistakable.

"Are you uncomfortable?" Jem asked over her shoulder.

"No." Hanna's chin tilted defiantly.

Jem sluiced chilled water over her overheated body from a pitcher by the bed. It had been a long, tiring day, and the little trespassers from the Highlands had only added to the long list of duties on her schedule.

Hanna watched the muscles work on Jem's back, the broad shoulders and their subtle strength mesmerizing in a way she'd not seen before. Never had she known that women could be so... well muscled. Stately. Handsome, even?

She looked away, feeling her face flush with heat. Then she heard the telltale creak of leather britches and shut her eyes. She shouldn't look. This felt wrong. The splash of water reached ears followed by a hiss of pain. Her eyes snapped back to the lithe form by the bed, eyes narrowing on the nasty gash on Jem's thigh. Rivulets of blood ran down her dark skin and wet the carpet by the bed.

Knife wound.



"You need to put a salve on that before it gets infected." The words left Hanna's lips before she could stop it.

"I need to clean it first." Jem ran a cloth over the wound.

"I can help." Hanna offered, rattling the chains.

A surprised bark of laughter escaped Jem. "I'm not that foolish, little girl."

Hanna sighed heavily. "I can help you even with my hands in irons. Just lengthen the chains on the floor."

"No."

The words were final. Hanna looked down at her knees. The grit on the floor had torn through the soft material of her britches and the earth showed spots of blood. She bit back a frustrated scream as she tried to find a position that didn't hurt.

"Could you at least loosen the chains a little so I can sit down?"

There was no response. Hanna watched as Jem wrapped a clean cloth around the wound and tucked the edges into the fold as though she'd done countless times before. Then she walked to a small chest and pulled out loose nightclothes, slipping them over her head.

And finally, finally, Jem allowed herself to look over at Hanna, her small form crumpled pathetically in a corner of the room. Where was the fiery vixen who'd climbed Jem like a tree and used shackles to try and choke the life out of her?

Perhaps it was time to loosen the shackles after all. As she knelt beside the chains, she noticed the small pools of blood under Hanna's knees.

"Little fool," Jem chastised. "I told you not to fight the chains."

Hanna let her head fall forward, tired of fighting. "Please just let me go."

She felt Jem's fingers on her chin, tilting Hanna's head to meet her eyes. "You know I can't do that."

Hanna's eyes filled with tears and she tried to blink them back in vain.

"Don't do that." Jem's voice was soft.

"You don't understand. This was going to be our last mission. Our Coven mistress passed and we were going to scatter her ashes."

"You still broke a law trying to do that."

Hanna heaved a frustrated sigh. "Please release me."

"No."

But the chains loosened a little and Hanna stretched her legs with a sharp cry of pain.

Jem cursed when she saw the extent of the damage the little fool had inflicted on herself. With a flick of the lock, she unchained Hanna and lifted her. Too tired to fight, Hanna merely asked, "What are you doing?"

"Your wounds need to be cleaned. Like you said, they'll get infected."

She laid Hanna on the bed and secured her shackles to the iron headboard, watching a flash of heat creep up Hanna's chest and neck.

"You're flushed," Jem commented, laying a hand on Hanna's forehead. "You're not developing a fever, are you?"

"No," she said, but Hanna only seemed to redden further.

"Good. Now lift your hips and I'll slide your britches off." When Hanna hesitated, Jem added, "It's either this or I cut them off you."

Balancing on her elbows, Hanna lifted her hips up and felt the cool breeze of the room slide over her bare thighs. A thin piece of cloth still covered her womanhood and the thought of it made her wonder if her face could possibly get any redder.

But Jem didn't seem to notice her nakedness. Instead, she concentrated on cleaning the cuts on Hanna's knees, her touch gentle and professional, almost indifferent.

Hanna shut her eyes, trying to ignore the small snicks of pain as the cool cloth passed over her wounds.

The next thing she knew, Jem was prodding her awake. She looked down at her knees, now properly salved and bandaged in clean cloth.

"Thank you," she said, her voice thick with sleep.

Jem merely gave her a curt nod. "I suppose it would be cruel to set you back on the floor."

Hanna raised hopeful eyes to the woman seated on the edge of the bed. The kind woman who'd tended to her wounds despite the fact that Hanna had tried to choke her to death only a few hours ago.

"I'm sorry," Hanna said, her voice soft. "I'm sorry for hurting you. I shouldn't have done it. You were only doing your job."

Jem started to turn away but Hanna stopped her by sitting up as far as the chains allowed.

"I mean what I say," she continued, reaching up to trace the angry red marks on Jem's face. "I can't believe I did this."

"I've had worse."

Hanna shook her head, her fingers tracing the scars down Jem's neck. Sharp brown eyes watched her as Hanna assessed the damage her nails had caused. The light tan of her fingers contrasted beautifully with the smooth caramel of Jem's skin. She could feel the power under her fingertips, coiled, just waiting to be unleashed if Hanna made one wrong move.

Instead, she chose to cup Jem's cheek as best as she could in her chains. "Beautiful," she said, letting the word linger between them.

Jem's lips twisted in a sad smile. "I still can't let you go."

"No," Hanna protested, cupping Jem's cheek a little harder. "It's not because of that. You truly are beautiful."

Hanna could feel her cheeks heating again. Do it for your sisters, she reminded herself.

"I suppose you're beautiful as well, although I can't tell under all that dirt."

"Oh," Hanna retracted her hand and lifted it to her cheeks. Crusty bits of mud came away on her palm.

"I'll get some fresh water."

With a wet cloth and a little soap, Jem slowly washed away the mud on Hanna's face, focusing so intently on each section that she wasn't prepared for what she uncovered when she sat back.

Exotic. That's what Hanna was. Her eyes had been arresting from the start -- almond-shaped and black as sin -- but her arched brows and sharp cheekbones were stunning. Her lips were an enticing light pink, the lower lip curved generously, perfect for suckling. Little freckles spread across the bridge of her nose kept her from looking altogether ethereal.

"What?" Hanna asked, a wry smile twisting her lips. "Is there something on my face?"

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