Taken by the Fair Conquerors — Part 3 [MF] [NC] [Impreg] [Bathing] [Raceplay] [WMAF]

I felt relief and relaxation flood into my bones as I slipped into the steaming-hot water. It felt so nice to have a luxury like this after being held in captivity for two days. It was also the first moment of privacy I had had since the Westerners took over the village. Yesterday they split the women up from one house into several, with a half-dozen or so in each, but still I had almost no time to myself, except when I slept.

The number of women in the houses had dwindled over time. I wasn’t sure why until I saw Fushen walking through the street with one of them, their arms interlocked. I had looked closely and had seen that it was the same man who had carried her away the first night we were here. She seemed unharmed, from what I could tell. The expression she wore wasn’t that of fear or terror—the look on her face was that of contenfulness—and I found that haunting. She had to be sleeping with him, but was it wholly willing, or did she do it just to avoid harsh punishment? Was that what would befall all of us? I had so many questions to ask her, but I wasn’t allowed to move freely, and I doubt she was either.

Many of the men had moved on, probably to sack other cities, and so a strange calmness had settled over the village. I still heard sobs at night from the other women—I did that too, a few times—but we all seemed to be settling into a passive acceptance with the situation. There was a man outside, guarding me as I bathed. He didn’t lift the curtains and peer through the window into the bathing room, but I heard the wooden boards outside creak when he shifted his weight, or his idling cough. Those noises drew me out of my comfort every time. It reminded me that I couldn’t stay here forever, alone and forgetful.

I started scrubbing my back and my shoulders. I couldn’t just soak like I wanted to; he could certainly hear the slosh of the water, and might come in to make me start scrubbing myself if I tried to draw it out too long.

The thoughts of the past crept in. I missed my husband deeply. We were newly wedded—less than a year now—and he was ripped away from me to fight the Westerners. I hoped he was still alive, though our marriage wasn’t really out of love. Oh, I had come to love him over the months, but I doubted that I would have chosen him if I had had free reign to pick whoever I wanted. Still, he provided for me, and he would for our kids, if he ever gave me any . . . That had bothered me—and it still did—not coming to be with child after being married so long. It wasn’t a matter of the act—I pleasured him whenever he wanted, and was excited to do it myself—but I just couldn’t seem to get pregnant. I worried that one of us was deficient. I knew I certainly looked a fertile woman; I was Meilin, the girl men had to catch a second glimpse of when I walked through the village. I was plump, with a big bottom and breasts which my robes always complemented. It would be some cruel ironic joke if I was cursed with infertility. It seemed impossible to me for that to be the case, but then that would leave my husband the infertile one. I wanted a child so much, and if I couldn’t have one with him, I knew I might resort to other men. Still, I prayed he was alive, and I knew he would save me if he was.

I heard someone moving outside, heavy steps on the wooden boards. I quieted down, halting my scrubbing and settling myself deeper into the bath, then I listened. There were some words exchanged between the man guarding me and the newcomer. Of course I couldn’t understand any of it. Their speech got louder, more aggressive, and then I heard a racket. My heart jumped and I turned around to see the newcomer pushing his way into the bathing room, the guard weakly trying to stop him.

He stared at me—actually, both of them were staring at me. I covered myself, laying my arms over my breasts and drawing my body as deep into the water as I could, shifting away from them. I wanted to raise my voice and say something harsh, to tell them to leave, but what was the point? Instead I looked back at them in silence, my heart racing.

The newcomer was slightly taller than the guard, and more well built. His brown hair was well-kept, but he had a bit of a stubble on his face. Like most of the marauding men, he looked rather young—maybe a year or two older than me. His eyes, a pale-gray, looked upon me like a predator’s. He was dressed like most of the other men in leisure, in a tunic and trousers, adorning no armor and only a long knife on his belt.

He spoke to the guard for a bit, a short exchange, and then the guard left, glancing back at me with desire in his eyes. The newcomer stayed, though, and he stepped across the room, nearer to me.

I wasn’t sure what to do. I wanted to spring out and run, or just cease to be in this place, but I couldn’t do that. I stayed where I was, desperately bending my body to cover as much of myself as I could, disrupting the still-hot bathwater. He looked down at me, and began to undress himself. First he unfastened his belt, then threw off his tunic, revealing his toned, hard body, and his broad shoulders. He moved over to the window and pulled open the curtains, letting the moonlight in. It lit his white skin softly, allowing me to see every hard-crafted muscle of his body. Thankfully there wasn’t any way for someone to look in from that window. Only a few silhouetted trees and distant buildings could be seen through it.

Before I knew it he was back over to me and pulling off his trousers. As he slid into the water with me I caught a glimpse of his hard cock. Only a moment later I felt it against my hips as he settled next to me.

He let out a deep groan of pleasure as he relaxed. I wasn’t sure if it was from the hot water, or me, but I knew I wanted to get away from him. I tried to rise out of the tub, steam and water falling off of my body, but he wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me down into him. He spoke swift words into my ear as I panicked, straining to pull away from him, sloshing water onto the floor. I didn’t want to be here. I didn’t want to be bathing with a stranger. This was wrong. It was rape! Why wouldn’t he let me go? Why did he not heed my cries and my thrashing? I thrashed and cried and kicked vainly. I felt his hold tighten, and when it started to hurt enough to make me wince, I gave up.

Tears flowed out of my eyes, uselessly trailing into the water. He let his grip slacken, but I didn’t try to get away again. He fondled my breasts, and I let out a squeak when he lowered his head and started kissing them. He licked my dark nipples and sucked on them. It was so strange, and felt filthy. My husband never did that! His hand ran down to my ass, and I jumped and yelped when he pinched me. He seemed to enjoy making me jump.

My face was so hot. It felt like I was baking underneath the hottest summer sun. The steamy water—the way he was touching me—it was all too much. Fuck, he was so much larger than me. I hadn’t even noticed but he could kill me without any effort, drown me, smother me, just beat me until I died, but he didn’t. He touched me instead. He kissed my breasts. He cupped my round, yellow ass with his white hands. He loved me—or my body—and wouldn’t harm me. All I had to do was let him do what he wanted and I would get along with these Western men. I would survive, or even thrive.

I realized I was moaning in pleasure too. His tongue on my nipples felt heavenly, not filthy; I wished my husband had done this to me. His strong body against mine made me feel safe, not in danger. His hands gripping my ass and my waist made me feel prized, and not degraded.

I wanted to give into him completely. The desire was so strong, but I had to remember my husband, and the life I lived just a few days before. This was just for now—only the present—and eventually I would escape somehow. Their army would be defeated. I would run away. My husband would fight them off and kill them, and rescue me . . . Something would happen, and everything would return to normal. But for now, for the present, and the foreseeable future, I had to do this. I had to fuck this man. And I might as well enjoy the feeling. I wasn’t a betrayer; I didn’t choose this.

He came up from my breast and kissed my mouth, smothering my face. Kissing was something my husband was good at, but this man was sheerly ravenous. He was like a starved hound the way he pressed his tongue into me, unrelenting as he kissed me on and on. In reaction I fell back until my face sank beneath the water, and he followed me down. I held my breath but he didn’t part our lips. He kept touching me wherever he wanted. A pressure rose in my head, rising, always rising while he smothered my face. I needed to breathe. *Breath!* But he kept kissing me. I couldn’t rise on my own; he was too strongly pressed against me. *Let me up! I can’t breathe. Please, stop kissing me you stupid brute. You’re smothering me, drowning me. You fucking white—!*

Our lips parted and I drew myself up, breathing heavily. My heart raced and pounded in my chest, the pressure in my head relieved. He was still moving, breathing just as hard as he manipulated my body, moving me around the tub with ease. I didn’t pay attention to what he was doing to me. *What was that? I nearly drowned but I feel . . . excited. Enthused with love. I should’ve known the whole time he valued me too much to let me drown. He needs me.*

I came back to reality when I felt his cock sliding into me. I knew it was coming—it was the natural progression of what we were doing—and I also knew I would have to take it, but still a new tinge of anxiety rose within me. All the touching and kissing was what it was, but I could face consequences later for this. A baby . . . But wasn’t that what I wanted? Wouldn’t I know if I kept fucking these men anyway whether I could have one? I did want one, but did I want a mixed bastard . . .

*I’ll be fine. No matter what happens I’ll be taken care of—by one of these white men, or by my husband. And I want a baby anyways, and a white one might be cute . . .*

*But I’m married! This is so wrong, and I’m so deceitful. I should be fighting this. Fighting until he’s forced to restrain me. That’s what a good wife would do.*

*No one can love you if you’re dead. You or your body. And you can’t love the babies you want to have either.*

My heavy breaths shifted into moans as his cock delved deeper into me. It was bigger than my husband’s, and when it went all the way in I realized it wasn’t even close. I couldn’t ignore how good it felt, how much it filled me up. Were all the white men this big? Was my husband “small”? Was that why I couldn’t get pregnant? It was a silly thought, but perhaps it could be true.

He began to thrust and it almost felt like I was having sex for the first time again. It was so different with a big cock. If I got used to this, my husband would feel inadequate, useless in bed, even. That’s if he ever got to fuck me again . . . *Fuck me for being a stupid whore, but he’s so much better than my husband. If this man treats me well and knocks me up I could forget about him. I could live a new life . . .*

His hands gripped my plump yellow ass and he smothered his face into my breasts. I held his head tightly against them while he plowed me under the water. My face was afire, and my mind aglow with pleasure. I couldn’t help but grin between my moans. I knew I was getting closer to climax, and I felt him nearing too. I needed to get pregnant. I wanted it so bad.

He kissed my lips again, sliding his hand up to my breasts to play with my breasts and nipples. His kiss melted my mind, and I got lost in it. The sound of the water rushing with his thrusts rang through my ears. Everything about this moment felt so natural, his desire matching mine, his body taking mine, his big white cock raping my yellow pussy. All was meant to be.

With the force of his movement he forced me under the bathwater again. I held my breath and kept kissing him, knowing full well he would let me breathe again when I needed to. I was his prize, and he was the winner. He came all the way over the sea to claim me, and who was I to deny him my body? I would submit to anything he wanted. That pressure rose again, the carnal tension taking over me, ready to snap in a thunderous flash. I wanted his seed in me so bad. His big white cock, so much larger than my husband’s, needed to unload in me. *Make me a mommy. I want your gray-eyed child sucking on me. Make my people see me as an adulterous traitor who abandoned her husband for a brutish rapist with a big white cock. Make yours see me as the yellow whore who takes your seed and bears your mixed children. Put a white baby in me!*

My pussy clenched around his pale cock as I came. I held the kiss, though I felt I couldn’t for much longer; I was straining for breath. My body moved as it wanted as he kept ravaging me, kept kissing me, kept touching the breasts I would use to feed the child he was fucking into me.

He pulled me up over the water, and our lips parted. He groaned between his heavy breaths. His thrusts got more aggressive. Then finally he plunged into me harder than ever, and I felt him twitch, his legs spasm. He held me close as he came, his huge white cock unleashing his seed into my yellow pussy. I couldn’t think at all, but I knew in my heart I wanted it to knock me up. I needed to be a mother—it’s what I wanted the most in the world—and I knew he would give me a strong baby. I couldn’t wait to feel my belly swell. Nothing would bring me more delight. I thought I could see his desire to breed me in his eyes as they met mine. I would have to learn his language one day, so I could know for sure what he was thinking.

He kissed me again, his cock still pulsing inside of me under the water. It was much lighter than the last ones, but still with love and passion. I caressed his face as he finished, and he broke the kiss soon after.

We were both left breathless in the afterglow, and he relaxed next to me under the water. His cock slowly softened inside of me while he caressed my body and face. I touched him delicately too, wanting to feel his strength—the strength he might have just put into my womb. I looked into his gray eyes, hoping that our child would have a pair just like them. He whispered to me as he calmed down, and I tried to catch the words. I desperately wanted to talk to him.

Together we enjoyed the moment. I could feel his cum still resting inside of me, though he slid his cock out. I understood Fushen now. I understood why she was with that man, and I wanted this one to take me and treat me the way she was being treated. It would be so much better—so relieving—to be out of that dingy, depressing house and with him all day. I wouldn’t be free, but at least I could go where he went. I would know what my future was to be.

He ran his fingers up my body, all the way to my face, and kissed my forehead, then my mouth. I savored it, but he parted within a brief moment. He gave me a lovely, melancholic look, and then rose out of the water. I went to go after him but he raised a hand and made me stay. I didn’t understand what was going on as he stepped out and began to dress himself. I simply watched him, and when he was finished he gave me the same look he had before. He said a short phrase—one I memorized the sound of—before he left me alone.

The bathwater didn’t seem as hot and refreshing as it did before. It was just tepid, and I wanted to be out of it.

Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/mmkyz4/taken_by_the_fair_conquerors_part_3_mf_nc_impreg