The man looked down at the woman kneeling between his legs. She tilted her head back and their gazes met. Then, a seductive, mischievous smile played across her lips.
She stuck out her red, wet, and flexible tongue, wiping the remaining semen from her lips with a leisurely circular motion. Her lips glistened with saliva, leaving him momentarily stunned before he bent down.
With an unexpectedly gentle, protective, and almost romantic gesture, he wrapped his right arm around her slender waist. No longer a steely grip, he laid her down on the bed as if she were porcelain about to crack at any moment.
However, that tenderness was apparently a brief distraction from what he did next. He turned and for the third time, picked up his sword, still stained with blood, though not as thick as before.
The glow of the fire reflected a red sheen on the blade, making Lestari sigh in resignation. If he wanted to kill her, then so be it. Moreover, she was dreaming, and who knew she might wake up immediately after the sword sliced through her neck ....
However, the sensation of the man's penis thrusting into Lestari's throat was still strong. Perhaps because of her first experience, her feminine vitality was still throbbing intensely, and sticky fluid continued to seep out, leaving wet circles on the cotton mattress.
If the man had witnessed this, he would have surely misinterpreted Lestari as a prostitute aroused by his brutal domination, blood, and the feeling of being a victim being hunted and then held hostage ....
The man rubbed his palms against the blade of the sword as if he were cleaning his heirloom of ordinary dirt. Then, he climbed onto the bed. With slow movements, he pressed his palms against the woman's plump mounds, leaving blood-red palm prints that contrasted sharply with her olive skin.
A gruesome yet artistic mark of ownership.
The man's fingers then descended and curved into the most perfect curve God had ever created for his hands to grasp.
Calmly, the man lifted the woman's body and held her on his thigh. One arm wrapped tightly around her neck, causing her to freeze.
He laughed softly. While his other hand stroked her back, tracing her shoulder blades and--
"Sa, rwa, telu, pat, lima, enem, pitu, walu, siya, sapuluh ...."
--counting the vertebrae from her spine to her tail!
Next, the man's hands squeezed the woman's buttocks and delivered a series of slaps that made her tremble.
The man suddenly felt wetness on his fingers. Realizing who the perpetrator was, he then parted her plump buttocks and teased her front hole from behind. He also occasionally accidentally poked her anus with his nails.
The man's palms were finally clean, as if the entire series of intimate touches had been merely a ritual to cleanse his hands.
The man panted, and his attention was intense, as if he were assessing a masterpiece he had painted. His dark fantasy of staining her with the blood of his people had come true.
Unbeknownst to him, his iron-hard heirloom was dripping with white essence.
With a slightly rough push from the man, the woman's body fell onto her back. He bent down, pressed his lips to the woman's earlobe, and whispered contemptuously, "Rah iki dwening sahulunmu. Gundik-gundikmu, prajurit-prajuritmu, patihmu ...."
Without any hesitation, the man immediately thrust his erection into the woman's still-tight lower mouth.
Lestari let out a muffled scream, sounding more like a death moan than a passion, as the man's hot penis mercilessly tore through her hymen.
The man must have seen Lestari's pained expression because he immediately pulled out. Shortly after, Lestari felt something runny trickle down her thighs, and a faint, fishy odor entered her nostrils.
Wrong.
The man reached for his sword for the fourth time and, without warning, positioned the hilt directly in front of Lestari's hole, which had just oozed virgin blood. With one powerful thrust, the wooden handle entered.
"Ah!"
Lestari's eyes widened.
'This man is crazy, this man is crazy, this man is crazy!!!'
Lestari's sobs shattered, but amidst the overwhelming agony, a new, far more terrifying horror gripped her consciousness. As the handle thrust in, something snapped in her brain.
Her five senses miraculously and simultaneously activated with excruciating sharpness.
The previously faint scent of iron now assaulted Lestari's sense of smell with a strong intensity. Nausea immediately surged to the base of her throat.
Lestari could feel the night air coming in through the door the man had smashed, like a cold razor blade cutting through her skin. She could feel the rough texture of the kapok mattress beneath her back and the way her cold sweat slowly trickled down her spine. She could feel the pain down there, the sensation of her hymen tearing was very real.
The most important thing was—
"Nora amung sing dwening sahulunmu, huwus uga pedang iki angrasaken rahmu."
--Lestari can completely understand sentences that she should not be able to understand at all.
Lestari's heart pounded so hard that her chest ached.
'How is this possible, how is this possible, how is this possible?!'
"Not only your servants', this sword has also tasted your blood," the man said.
Lestari's heart, which had previously been pounding with paralyzing horror, was instantly replaced by burning rage. Those words had pierced her heart deeper than the inanimate object that had, who knows when, emerged from its cavity and been replaced by the man's boneless staff.
Behind those moist eyes, a fire of pure revenge burned.
'Rakai Baka sang Ratu Jonggrang ta aku—'
Jonggrang of Baka is I?
--Yadyan makutaku remuk kedekan dan prajuritku mati--
Even if my crown is crushed underfoot and my soldiers die?
--gongnya pinakajiku sing mangili ring rahku tan ilang dening kaparibhawan iki--
The great pride that flows in my blood will not be lost by this humiliation?
--ingirangaken aku linuwih asor saka nghulun--
raping me lower than a slave?
--gagang lumebu ing bhagaku--
handle entering my genitals?
--dan angregedaken awakku ing rah dwening sahulunku--
and dirtying my body with the blood of my servants?
--dosa-dosa ikang tan inampunan yadi umaliwat aku dening satus kahuripan—sins that will not be forgiven even if I live a hundred lives?
Bandung Bandawasa, kudu mati sira ing tanganku!---Bandung Bandawasa, he must die by my hands?'