Sold to the Iron Warden Ch. 01

I never believed I would find myself in such a place.

I begged, pleaded, and outright refused to be dragged from my home and all I ever had known. Beyond the windswept meadows of our valley. Past the glittering city of Crona, a center for education and the arts I had seen but once as a child. Beyond still the thriving ocean town of Florentia of which the sun greeted warmly each morning. No, beyond it all...to the farthest reaches of the country, a blackened region at the edge of the map, where only convicted murderers, thieves, exiles, and all manner of unsavory characters made their home.

Blackspurn Ridge.

My stepfather, newly widowed and bleeding through what remained of my mother's fortune, had sold me off to the felon who ruled that land, successfully relieving himself of debt and any further responsibility towards me.

Here now, I sat alone in the carriage gazing up at the sprawling estate that would be my home. The home of the Iron Warden, also known as the Counterfeit King. He had many names, but it was his ruthlessness and depravity that kept such a lawless land in line. I had only heard whispers of his cruelty, but they had been enough.

And now, that same man owned me.

The driver stood alongside an armed guard posted outside my carriage, sharing a smoke. The smell wafted through the open window, and I covered my nose and mouth to stave off the harsh scent. My stepfather had been inside for some time, finalizing the transaction and getting his much-desired money. He cared for nothing else, and though I yearned to be rid of him once and for all, the circumstances of that wish made my stomach writhe ill.

When he finally emerged from the house, his step light and his face plastered in an easy smile, the remaining traces of hope for the life my mother had once planned for us vanished.

His eyes lifted, meeting mine with cold finality. His smile broadened, as if to suppress a laugh. Two armed men emerged from the house behind him and followed my stepfather towards the carriage. He glanced back but otherwise seemed unperturbed by their presence.

One of the men was taller than the other, fair-haired and smirking, with a casual air to his stride--like a man who carried no care or remorse. He took a long drag on his cigarette before tossing it to the ground and crushing it with the toe of his boot. The shorter of the pair was no less intimidating, with near-black hair and focused, steely eyes that swept the grounds as they approached my carriage. They each wore an odd miss-match of gentlemen's attire and worn-out commoners clothes that clashed even further with their Altherian military boots.

I shrank back to the far edge of the carriage, though it would do little good. I had already tried escaping the carriage once, which was the reason for the posted guard, and now likely the two additional ones. Whether or not my stepfather knew of the attempt seemed immaterial: he was humming to himself as he neared, now holding the large case he was carrying against his chest.

If I bolted again, I'd be risking much more than I was prepared for. Maybe it was one last shred of hope. Or maybe it was my own selfish cowardice.

The door swung open. I braced myself for my stepfather's usual harsh tongue. Instead, it was the tall, smirking man who peered inside.

He let out a low whistle, then clicked his tongue. "Thought you were exaggerating. She's even prettier than you said."

A blush crept over my cheeks, and I scolded myself inwardly. These were not gentlemen. These were the men I had been sold to!

"Maybe your boss would be partial to offering a bit more in compensation."

The man shrugged at that. "Deal's done. Unless you're up to telling the big man himself."

I shivered, the nausea in my stomach returning. This was real. This was really happening.

A small sound escaped my mouth before I could stop it. The man leaned into the carriage and lowered his voice. "Look, you're one of us now, peaches. Ain't none of us come here by choice either, so we ain't that unalike." His hand dropped to the pistol at his hip, a lazy lilt to his voice. "Let's make this easy, alright?"

The carriage rocked as the other man removed my two trunks and placed them on the drive. They contained clothes and a few small possessions. My stepfather had sold the rest off to alleviate some of his debts.

"She likes making things difficult," I heard my stepfather grumble.

"Does she now?" The man replied, though he didn't sound like he actually cared. He extended a hand to me with a wink. "You gonna prove him right on that?"

I sighed trying to calm the sick feeling roiling in my stomach. What choice did I have? Besides, maybe there was a bit of pleasure in proving that odious man wrong one more time.

I took his hand--warm, rough, and calloused--and allowed him to assist me. The crisp, fresh air hit my lungs as I emerged into the sun, and for a moment I felt free. My stepfather said nothing and set to loading his cases, whistling as if he hadn't a care in the world.

The man passed me to his dark-haired partner, who gently grasped my arm with an irritated sigh. He seemed wholly uninterested in the whole affair, though I suspected if I made any attempt to flee, I'd become instantly familiar with that blade at his side.

"Well, that's that." My stepfather released a long breath, smiling once again up at the sky. He turned towards me, cocking his head. "I suppose you did prove useful in the end, Vera. You and your mother have guaranteed me a comfortable life. And I for one certainly will not miss being at the beck and call of such a disagreeable woman--just her whore of a mother."

How dare he insult my mother's memory after all he took from us! I seethed, my body fighting to remain in place. The man next to me tensed, his grip firmer, as if to remind me that doing or saying anything now would not change my situation.

The fair-haired man chuckled, pacing away from the carriage. "Fine parting words. Aren't they, Bast?"

Beside me, Bast inclined his head but said nothing.

"You do realize," he continued, his smirk fading as he turned back towards my stepfather, "that there is nothing stopping us from killing you right here and taking back all of it. Nothing at all," he added, his tone darkening as he enunciated those last three words.

My stepfather visibly bristled, shuffling back a step. "I have every right to speak my mind to my stepdaughter! Besides, I have your master's word..."

"She ain't your stepdaughter anymore. She's one of us." Bast's partner drew his gun, aiming it straight at my stepfather's head. "And when you insult one of us, you insult all of us. Ain't no one gonna be mourning your death, I wager. No one gonna question it neither."

"Wait," I heard myself say. I hated him but...I couldn't let them just...kill him! Even though I hated him, it was wrong. He would atone for his behavior some other way, I was sure of it. But not like this. I couldn't...

I met the gunman's eyes, and he raised an eyebrow. "Don't," I said, with less conviction than I probably should have. His smirk deepened to something more sinister, and a fresh shiver wracked through my body.

Bast put an arm around my waist. "You'll want to turn away."

I opened my mouth to protest once more, but I didn't get a single word out. The gun fired, the resounding boom ricocheting off my heart, and I stumbled, ears ringing. Bast steadied me, but I pushed him away. I had to see, had to know. He couldn't be...they couldn't have...

There, on the ground. My stepfather clutched his leg, wailing. Blood had splattered all over his clothing, darkest at his knee. He flipped between flinging curses at the gunman and howling at his damaged limb. I watched him suffer, but felt nothing for it.

Once the driver had calmed the horses, he and the posted guard--neither looking at all shocked--set to lifting my stepfather into the carriage. His cries ignited at the careless handling. The gunman was wiping down his pistol with a tattered bit of cloth, completely unaffected by the scene he'd caused.

I finally whirled away as the ringing in my ears subsided. Bast's steadying hand was back at my waist, but this time I did not push him away. We walked towards the giant house, but I hardly felt my feet move. My home...my prison.

"Take him to West Durham," I heard Bast's partner tell the driver, "but take the scenic route. Give him a nice tour of our territory. He has the funds to pay the doc whenever you get there. Yeah, yeah, you'll be compensated for your time."

As we stepped inside, I turned back once more just as the driver flicked the reins and sent the horses galloping away. A strange emptiness settled inside, deeper than I had felt since my mother's passing. Now, at the mercy of such men, without a single friend or relation, I was more alone than ever.

Bast's partner joined us at the door, laughing. "See how much he enjoys all his money now. Doc's gonna fleece him good fixing that knee. And as usual, we'll get a nice sum back." He cocked his head. "Aw, peaches, you can thank me later. Be plenty of time for that."

"T-thank you!?"

"My pleasure."

"N-no, I..."

"Shut it, Van. She's been through enough, and she hasn't even met him yet." Bast tugged gently, encouraging me inside as my steps faltered.

Him. The Iron Warden. A man so ruthless and frightening that he could bring the scum of society to heel.

"You're lucky," Van went on. "You'll want for nothing here, so long as you stay in line. Just follow the rules and all. Shit, though, if it wasn't for him, you could've ended up in--"

"Van," Bast warned. "Go get her things."

"What? Why me?"

"Where?" I interrupted their bickering. "I could've ended up where?"

"Ah, you know. Anywhere. It ain't so bad here, 'spite what people say about it." Van tossed a shrug, then sauntered back outside.

Bast sighed and took my arm again. "We should go. Our master is waiting."

As I walked beside him, I hardly saw my surroundings nor could I make sense of the maze of vast halls and rooms we passed through. How could anywhere else be worse than a land filled with criminals? Who could be more terrible than the Iron Warden? Well, I suppose my stepfather was in the running for that honor. Still, these men worked for him--of course they'd have nothing to say against their master.

Master. I shuddered. Would I be expected to call him that, too?

When we reached a set of closed doors, Bast stopped and rapped a knuckle against the wood. I heard a low response, and Bast opened the door, gesturing for me to enter. I hesitated.

"He's a fair man," Bast said in a low voice beside me, as if that should alleviate all of my fears. But fairness was subjective, and I doubted our views on the matter were equal.

Lifting my head, I stepped inside to the thundering beat of my heart. Men like these no doubt only wanted one thing from women like me. I could not forget that I was now bound to the Iron Warden's will, bought and paid like chattel, like a trinket from a shop window. Whether I wanted to or not.

The doors closed behind me.

The room was large, cavernous, inlaid with dark, moody wood across the floor, along the walls, and in the beams overhead. Plush rugs of reds and browns and matching armchairs were arranged to the right of the room. A large fireplace dominated the left. And straight ahead sat a large desk accompanied by an unmoving figure.

Backlit by the sun streaming through large windows, the man stood in shadow. Though I could not quite see his face, I knew he watched me. I could feel his eyes upon me, and an uncomfortable heat clawed up my neck. His size was unmistakable: broad chested with thick arms that looked as if they could strangle someone with little effort. I took a step back, bumping against the doors.

"Come here," his voice boomed, deep and commanding. When I did not comply immediately, he added, "I don't like being made to wait."

I took a few steps forward. "And I do not like this...arrangement. I never consented to it. My stepfather..."

"...sold you to me as was his right to do."

"Hisright!?" I shot back, as if suddenly all of my fear and anger and despair had burst to the surface. "He had no right! He's a lying degenerate who destroyed my family. Of course, why would you care? You probably do this all the time!"

"And does it bother you that you aren't the first?"

I bristled. "That I...what? How dare-- Why would I-- You are horrible, just like they all say!"

The Iron Warden stayed silent as I kept going, saying things I probably should not have, but I had pushed my feelings down long enough in order to survive. I released every last bit of anger left inside me until I was out of breath.

"Are you finished?" After all that, his tone was utterly unaffected. I could not tell if I had amused, angered, or bored him. "My reasons for this arrangement are my own," he went on curtly. "All of your needs will be met, and in return, you will fulfill whatever duties you are given. Simple as that. Now let's try again with something simple. Come here." He pointed to a spot directly in front of him.

I huffed, but my feet moved on their own. As if my body had already resigned to it all, but my mind refused to let go even though there was no winning any argument against this man. I wouldn't suddenly change his mind. He had paid my stepfather a sum to own me, to use me in whatever ways he saw fit. I drew up before him, refusing to look away. My insides roiled, a tumultuous mix of fear, resignation, and a shameful twinge of curiosity.

As I neared, his hard-lined features and cool grey eyes were revealed. They were the eyes of a man who had seen hell and beyond. Maybe that thought was colored by all the rumors I'd heard over the years, but I couldn't shake the sense that there was more behind those calculating eyes than what he'd been reduced to. Still, he was a felon, an exiled criminal. He bought women for his own...use. I owed him nothing.

"Good. On your knees."

"My..." I hesitated, touching my dress, then groaned. Good god, mussing up my dress was the least of my worries.

"Leave it on."

"That's not what I--"

"On your knees," he repeated, a hint of impatience in his voice.

I lowered myself before him, raising my eyes up the impossible height of his body. He looked even larger and more powerful than before. His long sideburns and whiskered face shielded his true age and made him all the more intimidating. Wolfish, even.

The Iron Warden grasped my chin, tilting my head back further. He studied me, rubbing the pad of his thumb over my bottom lip. Then, he let go and brought his hand to his pants, tugging at the laces shielding his...

I tensed. He noticed, but didn't pause. Freeing the ties, he pushed the fabric down and pulled out his...his...

"Show me what you know about men."

I let out a small gasp. I had not...no, no, I had never seen one before. Certainly not. I cursed my stepfather for the thousandth time, fuming at the lies he must have used to make the sale. I watched transfixed, unable to look away as it became larger, pulsing as it grew.

I had no idea what to do.

"Your stepfather may have misrepresented your experience," he said, reading me like a book, "but we'll soon change that. Open your mouth. I'll do the rest. This time."

"Please...please don't make me do this." A pathetic whimper. A final plea. I felt his hand grasp the back of my head, gentle, and for a moment I thought maybe he understood. Maybe he would change his mind.

Then his fingers tightened in my hair.

"Open...your...mouth."

He lifted his cock with his free hand, now fully erect and impossibly larger than before, and rubbed the tip of it against my mouth. When I didn't open, he yanked at the back of my head, causing me to gasp. As soon as the air rushed in, so did his cock.

He said nothing nor made a single sound as he pumped his hips against my face, slowly, unhurried, and almost gentle. Tears formed in my eyes as I accustomed to the intrusion. He pushed deeper and I gagged on his length. He drew back slightly but continued his pace.

I hated this. I hated this. I hated this...

Yet something stirred within me. Down between my legs. A feeling I had only experienced when I'd explored myself in the darkest hours of the night. But no! This was...I did not want this! To be forced against my will... Yet the tingling warmth only grew, and I could feel the familiar wetness I had only known when alone.

I glanced up at the Iron Warden, whose eyes remained fixed on me, cold and focused. The smell of leather and sweat filled my nose. His cock, both firm and unyielding and soft and smooth slid past my lips over and over. The movement of his hips remained steady, neither too fast nor too slow, a sensual rhythm that threatened to chase away my opposition.

I could not forget. I could not forget that I was forced to do this. But yet...

A low grunt escaped him that made me shudder, right down to my core. He paused his movements, then resumed after a moment.

"You've never taken a man's seed before." It was a statement rather than a question. I shook my head, his length preventing me from speaking.

He made an amused sound. "You will now."

His hips resumed their pace, then quickened to short fast thrusts. I whimpered and gasped on his cock, trying to breathe as he used my mouth.

Suddenly he let out a curse, breaking his aura of control, and stilled, pushing his manhood deep into my throat. Warm liquid filled my mouth and I gagged yet again, his cock pulsing against my tongue.

"Swallow it. All of it."

I had no choice but to obey. I gulped down the thick liquid as he emptied it into my mouth. I chanced another glance up, surprised to find his eyes closed, face contorted as if he were trying to recompose himself. His eyelids lifted, and for a brief moment there was something soft there. Then his gaze hardened just as quickly and he drew out of my mouth, stepped back, and laced up his pants. He extended a hand and helped me to my feet.

"You'll improve in time." He strode past me and crossed the room towards the door.

I followed uncertainly, wiping my lips with a trembling hand. I should be insulted, furious, in rage that he had done this to me! And yet the quivering in my abdomen remained, the faint traces of anticipation between my legs lingering on his promise. I felt every bit the rabbit to his wolf.

He opened the door. Bast still stood in the hall, meeting my eye as he approached. I flushed, wondering if he knew or heard. He made no indication either way. Yet I swore I saw the Iron Warden smirk briefly before handing me over to Bast.

"Welcome to the Ridge, Miss Rothwell," he said and shut the door with a dull thud.