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Backfire	By : Prophet-of-a-Darker-Script Category: +G through L > He-Man Views: 3093 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I disclaim He-Man and all related characters and locations. characters and locations belong to their respective agencies and I am not making any money in the writing of this fiction. The OCs and plot are of my own creation.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
- 3
Additional Disclaimer: I do not own He-Man or any related characters and locations associated with the Filmation series. No money is being made from this. The OCs and plot are mine.
AN: Apologies! I’m still trying to get used to the formatting here. When I get some time I’ll try to go back and re-upload the first chapter so it reads a little better.
HUGE THANK YOU TO DEMONGODDESS061 for helping with the uploading. Your help is greatly appreciated!
To ANON: Thank you for your review! I honestly wasn’t expecting any type of reaction, thinking that others wouldn’t find it entertaining. I admit to not being comfortable with writing smut.
Please, forgive any mistakes and forgive the novice attempt at writing smut. This is the first REAL attempt at such things and I know I have a lot to learn. Just, be patient. :D
Enjoy the show…..
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A brilliant flash of red and the throne room of Snake Mountain appeared before the two magical travelers. Skeletor extended his staff, the magical properties allowing it to float across the room and into its stand in prominent display. He turned to his new slave and found her backing up, her eyes wide as she took in her surroundings. It was overwhelming, being in the grand throne room of the King of Snake Mountain. Skeletor felt his chest swell with pride at the awestruck look on the young woman’s face. Now that his sight wasn’t blinded by raging fires, he took in the woman’s appearance more closely.
Auburn hair fell about her shoulders. Her eyes were brown as the earth, gleaming wide in fear. She was shorter than most females, coming to just below Skeletor’s shoulder and appeared no older than twenty, though Skeletor possessed poor judgment in such things. Her face, arms, and hands were tanned and weathered by exposure to the sun and wind. She looked sturdy. The assessment was confirmed when her arms wrapped around her midsection in a tight hug. Her arms lacked the long, willowy lines of most females. Muscles moved under her tanned skin, her thin top revealing her strong build but high enough in the collar to prevent glimpse of a pert cleavage. Her skirt was frayed as it hung to her ankles, its bell like shape swishing along the stone floor of the throne room.
“Your duty is now to me,” Skeletor said without preamble, taking a step to the woman. “You are to stand behind me always ready to perform any task I set, be it errands of retrieval, refilling my wine, or singing me a song if the inspiration strikes me. You are to perform these tasks without word of complaint or refusal. In performing of your duties, I will guarantee you will have a bed and food. Disobey me and you will have a dungeon cell and entertain my soldiers for as long as your body allows.”
The woman swallowed hard. It wasn’t easy choices. But she didn’t want to end up a soldier’s plaything. And during Skeletor’s speech, he did not mention his own physical needs. Either he wasn’t interested in such indulgences, or they were an unspoken additive to her duties. A part of her wanted to fight and rage and lash out at the evil man for taking her away from her home. But the other side of the argument reared, reminding her she had nothing left to return to. Skeletor’s men had seen to the destruction of the village. There would be very little to salvage and not enough help to go around when it came to rebuilding, if any villagers remained.
Not waiting for confirmation, Skeletor reached out, grabbed the thick auburn hair and spun the young woman around. She cried out from the sudden movement and the impact her jaw made to the table that greeted her cheek. Skeletor’s hand was still fisted in her hair as he shoved her face into the wooden table.
Skeletor pressed against the body in front of him, hoping to terrify her into submission. His hand released her hair and clasped the back of her skull, keeping her pinned to the table. If she was to be the new serving wench, she had to know her place. Once the oath of obedience was given, thanks to Evil Lynn’s spells, it could never be broken, lest the one promising suffer a violent end. Skeletor lost more help that way.
If he was to have proper order to his kingdom, then the help had to know their fate lie in the hands of the Master of the hall. Most women would be crying and begging for his nonexistent mercy. But not this woman. She held perfectly still, submitting to his every suggestion.
“What is your name?” Skeletor asked, lessening his hold ever so slightly.
“Ella,” she answered in a soft, feminine lilt that lacked the usual iciness of fear and loathing. “Ella Borrin. My husband was Jacel Borrin.”
“Do you believe he is searching for you?” Skeletor asked, hoping to torment the woman into showing some signs of fear. “Because I hate to inform you, my dear, but everyone of your village is dead.”
“There is no one who would be looking for me,” Ella said, keeping her tone neutral. “My husband was lost at sea two years ago. My father died from the fever three winters ago. I have no mother or siblings.”
“A widow, huh?” Skeletor taunted, hoping to make the woman cry.
But Ella surprised him. She shifted, feeling the biting edge of the table pinch her breast in an uncomfortable way. She felt the polished wooden table grind into her cheek, but she didn’t cry out. A small part of her was thankful it was so ornate and polished, lest she end up with a face full of splinters. The wood was still uncomfortable pressed against her breasts. She twitched in agony, hoping to dislodge the weight forcing them to flatten on the table’s surface.
Skeletor understood the motion as an escape. He growled, tightening his hold on the woman’s head and adding his heftier weight behind the action. The motion caused his body to become flush against hers, bowing over her and snarling in her ear.
“You attempt escape?” Skeletor asked, clutching the auburn tresses in his fist again. He pulled her head up, his jaw burying into her hair. He took a deep inhale, finding her scent to be a mix of flowers and sweat.
“No, my Lord,” she gasped, feeling his weight sandwich her between the hard table and his warm body. The weight forced the edge of the table against her ribs, causing her breath to come in a fast, grating hitch. She squirmed, trying to dislodge his weight. She braced her hands on the edge of the table, trying to wedge herself into a position that allowed her to relieve the heaviness on her lungs.
“Stop struggling,” Skeletor commanded, feeling her mold against him as she moved. His palm flattened against her skull, forcing her head face flush against the tabletop.
“You’re crushing me,” Ella panted, using her body as a fulcrum and rocking back against him to dislodge his weight. “I can’t breathe.”
The innocent wiggles of her buttocks against his body had an unexpected result. Heat shot up his spine and sent his body into a fever. He shook his head against the feeling. He was supposed to be disciplining this slave so she would know her place. And her place was not in his bed. He did not bend to lust and carnal pleasures like a common man. Just as the insane thought crossed his mind, he felt himself thicken against her rear.
Against her better judgment, Ella groaned. The feel of a powerful body fitting so snuggly against her own, was too much for her mind to bear. The intense male scent that lingered was the sensual aura around a true male. A scent and feeling she had missed since her husband’s passing.
Her husband had very little time for her when he was alive. She always craved his touch and though it was occasionally bestowed upon, it was for procreation and not pleasure. The body sandwiching her against the table now was definitely male, and to her great surprise, and should have been her shame, a very distinct part of his anatomy responded to her throaty summons. She should have been sickened, instead, she felt herself flush with want.
Skeletor looked to the small body trapped beneath his own, the noise that escaped had drawn his attention and before he could mentally decipher its meaning his body responded in an unexpected way. He felt himself harden in answer to her innocent wriggling and soft vocalizations. To assert his male dominance, he gave a languid thrust, hoping to hear her cries of protest at the treatment and beg him to keep her untouched. He may be labeled a monster by many, but he never took those who refused. He had some morals, but they were few. Instead of rearing against him, to his great astonishment she mewled in want. He lessened his hold with the shock and watched as her upper body heaved slightly with labored breath.
“Will you resist me?” Skeletor asked, rising and looking at the woman in lustful disbelief. He meant it as a question to his authority and her possible plans for escape. But his body had another thing in mind, sending him a pleading message as his heaviness grew in preparation.
“No,” said she softly.
Ella felt her face burn in shame. She didn’t want to react so vehemently, especially not with such a vile creature as Skeletor, but she couldn’t help herself. She couldn’t stop her body’s natural reaction to the assertive male presence.
It had been two years since her husband had died at sea, and she vowed never to allow another man to touch her in respect of his memory. But the nights were cold and lonely and a deep part of her yearned for a male touch.
Her husband had bed her so rarely, and only then to produce heirs. He would take three days off every month. The first two days he would help at the farm an do the repairs that Ella had been unable to perform. On the third day, after finishing chores for the day and eating a filling meal, he would take her. And those encounters had lasted only a short time before he yelled his release and removed himself with haste. The next morning he would be gone, preparing the fishing vessel for another month long journey. When he returned the next month, the first thing he inquired was Ella’s possible conception. And every time she sadly reported that she had not conceived, he would become furious. The first two days of his return was spent in stony silence and hard labor. And on the third day, true to form, he sated his hunger, then his body, rolling over and leaving Ella feeling empty and betrayed. For ten months their marriage had progressed and on the eleventh, she had informed him that she spoken to a healer and learned that sometimes couples must lay together many times in order to conceive. Jacel had been appalled by the idea, and on the third day, he had packed his belongings and returned to his ship, leaving his shattered, and heartbroken wife to lay in a cold, empty bed. The next month he did not return, nor his sailing vessel. Two weeks without his return and the shattered pieces of his ship had washed ashore, all hands deemed lost.
But no man had ever touched her the way Jacel had. And until this point, she sworn no other man would. But by the Elders, if the male molded against her body didn’t fit perfectly and the hard length pressed against her femininity was causing her mind to go fuzzy with lust. Jacel had been her first, and she had no other comparisons, but the male currently presenting himself to her initiate place was far superior. She could have sworn the hard length was a weapon had it not been for the heat of it igniting her internal fires.
“I do not indulge in physical pleasures,” Skeletor admitted, though the dominate erection he was now sporting made him out like a liar. He contemplated his choices. He could send the woman beneath him away and ask for Evil Lynn and her manipulative fingers. Or he could submit to his body’s natural desires and slake a lust that rarely arose in his person. His choice was made when the rounded buttocks caressed against him in silent permission, the woman’s breath catching in her throat. It was music to Skeletor’s ears.
“You wish to earn my favor?” Skeletor asked, trying to judge the woman’s character. She didn’t seem the type to lay with anyone, like so many of the barmaids. She was short, stout, and ordinary looking, obviously built for hard work and service. If she had been a professional entertainer, surely she would have taken better care of her appearance. Instead she resembled the many women who had perished in the razing of her small village. Sturdy and hearty, able to withstand more than the long legged, supple courtesans of the local inns.
Ella felt her body heat, her legs tremble in anticipation. She wanted to stop. She really did. She had been faithful to her husband even until death, and yet, something stirred within her soul. A fire burned and only now did she understand the true depths of its raging. She should be appalled at the man standing behind her, bending her over a table like a common whore, but she found that insistent, niggling voice whisper in her mind that this was right. It was what she wanted. A small part rationed that she must be crazy, submitting herself so readily to the evil Lord of Snake Mountain. She opened her mouth to protest and tell the wretched man to let her go, but the only thing that escaped was a low, pleasurable hiss of affirmation.
“Yesssss.” Ella breathed, her body trembling in pent up, turbulent emotion.
Not sure what was driving him, Skeletor undone the lace of his girdle and allowed it to fall to the floor. His erection stood proud from the tight confines of his dark uniform. And unsure what possessed him, he grasped the edge of the thin cotton skirt and lifted it up over short, stalwart legs to expose well rounded buttocks clothed in a simple undergarment. The skirt was not of high quality, appropriate for a farm, its edges frayed from age and wear. The scant undergarment was obviously well worn as well. Skeletor looked at the offered promise of release, a part of him laughing that he should find the most experienced courtesan and allow her to pleasure him into a coma. But somehow, miraculously, he found the stringy garments to be enticing and sensual. He hooked his fingers into the material and slid it down to her thighs where it fell onto the floor. She offered no movement or noise of protest.
Having provided incentive to reject him, or voice her concerns, Skeletor watched as Ella released her hold on the edge of the table and brought her hands up next to her shoulders. She alternated pressing her palms into the cold wood, to clenching her tiny fists, the short nails digging into the surface in anticipation.
Well, the Lord of Snake Mountain didn’t need further confirmation. He gasped her hips, lining himself up. She tensed under his hands, fueling his desire and much to his surprise, his lust. He felt himself throb in want, finding the woman to be calling him to her.
Ella tensed at the firm grip her captor bestowed on her hips. She grit her teeth, expecting the violent thrust that Jacel had employed to empty his seed within a few short bursts that left her panting in pained compliance, unfulfilled and aching to the bone. But her captor surprised her.
Skeletor eased his grip, and out of curiosity his right hand caressed the pale skin of her buttock. It was firm and well rounded and moved in a way that made his body hum in appreciation. He traced a finger over the angled curve and dipped his finger between her thighs, expecting to hear vicious protests. Instead he found her entrance, amply wet, the soft folds bending like petals against his probing digit as it slipped inside, testing the confines of her promise. If he possessed the ability to show facial expressions, he would have been displaying surprise that quickly morphed into hunger.
Ella gasped as she felt her body invaded by the inquisitive finger. She bit her lip to keep from crying out, both in shame and in pleasure. Her back rolled like a segmented seductress, her voice pitching in song as her body was explored.
Skeletor watched the woman’s expression as she bit her bottom lip between her teeth to keep from crying out. The smooth wooden table must have been harsh against her cheek but she made no sounds of discomfort. The forced silence she maintained was deliciously intoxicating. He removed his finger and presented himself to her entrance. She inhaled sharply, her breath hitching into a pant as she felt him circle her womanhood, tracing the wet heat. When he slipped the head inside, she couldn’t stop the long, lust filled moan. Elders, he was definitely bigger than Jacel. This new man stretched her to new heights, igniting her fires and he had not even seated himself yet. She gasped against his girth, knowing he rivaled the thickness of her wrist.
Skeletor admitted to himself, this definitely felt nice. A lot better than Evil Lynn’s weak contribution to the lure of seduction and his wiles. She had always presented as disinterested, cold, and never felt this hot or wet from his promised touch. And the way this woman moaned was going straight through his body and causing a dull throb in his manhood. He had never felt so aroused or desired.
Skeletor waited, savoring the feeling of the heat that took him so readily. He stared at their joined bodies, remembering how once Evil Lynn mentioned that his girth took some time to get used to. So out of some strange notion to be a gentleman, he held still, savoring the sensation of her wet body kissing him so intimately. His hands caressed the pale buttocks, watching them quiver in anticipation. He let out a noise of surprise when the body beneath him rocked back in slow motion, taking him inch by glorious inch until he was seated to the hilt.
Skeletor bent over Ella, his own breathing ragged as he clutched her hips, his fingers digging into the pale skin. His finger nails, formed little crescents along her skin as he allowed himself to fall into the delirious sensations now consuming him. He hissed with every clench of her body, protesting and welcoming his intrusion. Ella shuddered below him and without warning she gave a gasping cry, her internal walls locking down with a vice line intensity and causing Skeletor to cry out from pain and pleasure. He grunted, bracing his hands on either side of the shuddering woman, trying to keep himself centered during the hurricane of confined release.
Ella felt her body stretch to its fullest, straining against the heaviness that intruded her body. She should have reared in protest and cried out against the violation but the only thing that could pass her lips was a passionate cry. It was like a dam opening up, breaking loose and flowing out of her body with a torrential downpour. She shuddered, her nails digging into the tabletop and leaving long gouges. Her back flexed in a chaotic pattern with the intensity of the sensation that set her nerves alight. She half expected Skeletor to withdraw from her as Jacel had preferred, but to her amazement he remained buried inside, his labored pants causing her hair to move in time with his breath. His body trembled as he braced himself atop her, her back feeling the hard contraction of his stomach as he emitted gasping noises of pleasure.
So that was it was like to find fulfillment? Ella asked herself. To feel her body stretched to its limits, accepting the pleasure from satisfied nerves and to finally have her soul touched?
When the tremors subsided, Skeletor rocked back, pulling halfway out before pushing back in, his actions slow, measured. Her body felt hotter, like he was being drown in lava as he sank with willing abandon into the loving embrace bestowed by the tightening confines of her body.
Ella gave another lust filled groan, her stance widening before her legs lost the ability to hold her weight. The thick length pushing inside her not only satiated the hunger that had been present since her first night with Jacel, but it craved more. And with the building motion, she was get getting her wish. Her body rocked with his thrusts, feeling him strike the entrance to her womb with such a force, she feared he would break something inside. But it didn’t matter. Her body ignored the discomfort and allowed her raw passion to escape. Like a wanton barmaid she allowed the invasion of her body, her core igniting with a flame that she didn’t know how to quell, least of all give it a name.
It was most strange, and yet, she couldn’t get enough of what Skeletor, the most hated man in Eternia, was doing to her body. She felt another ripple send her body into shuddering spasm, his hands gripping her hips to assist her into matching his rhythm. Whatever those tremors were that shook her core, they were delicious, and they left her feeling…. well, she wasn’t sure, never having experienced such a thing before. Skeletor wasn’t violent in his actions but he was firm and forceful.
The mewls and cries coming from the woman below him was sending Skeletor into a dizzying rise to the stratosphere. He wanted to pound her until she couldn’t walk, but his body kept its own rhythm, ignoring his mental commands to dominate and subdue.
He felt her tighten around him again, his entry now well received with her physical answer to his stimulation. He smiled, pleased with himself and the susceptible slave relenting to his superiority. Evil Lynn had never felt this nice nor been so compliant. Wanting to enjoy the tight heat surrounding him, Skeletor sank himself to the hilt and circled his hips.
The actions brought forth a symphony of cries and gasps, Ella forcing their hips together in a aggravated grind. And before Skeletor knew what was happening, he felt a sudden rush tear through his body. His spine went rigid. He felt as if his very soul was erupting as he grasped the round hips and gave one final thrust. His release came in a torrent, surging through his body and empting into the willing form that accepted his essence with a vice like fervor.
Ella cried out when the hot explosion struck something deep, coating her walls as the man inside her continued to drive forward, emptying himself. The heat triggered her own release and with a gasping cry, she shuddered hard, her body accepting the thick length and drawing its essence in greedy pulls. Her back bowed and flexed, the tremor shaking her spine in such a way she thought her back would snap. Skeletor bowed over her back, his head lying between her shoulders. His body twitched in aftershocks, his length slow to relax after its exertion. He groaned, feeling a warm sated sensation float over his body and encompass him in a soothing blanket. The couple lay for several long moments, both twitching in tremors and sighs of satisfaction.
Skeletor rose to his shaky arms, and looked at the woman who had given him the best release of his life. Even in his former identity, never had he experienced something so truly planet shattering. And by the lusty heaves, Ella had not either. Well, she was still as tight as a maid, so there was a chance she had less experience than what was normal for those bound by marriage vows. Skeletor offered a gentle caress to the pale hips, giving them an appreciative squeeze before puling out. As soon as the cool air of the throne room touched his exhausted body, he felt a strange sensation. From some unknown depth, and against his usual, rock solid judgment, he wanted to return to her body and remain sheathed in her heat forever. He scowled, feeling the unexplainable, inane and unsuspecting desire bubble below the surface before he squashed it with an annoyed vengeance.
He was being foolish. Surely the overwhelming experience he just had was clouding his mind.
And by some strange reasoning, he grasped the bunched material of her skirt and pulled it tenderly over her body, hiding her from view. The rough material fell to her ankles and rustled in the silence.   Since she had yet made any motion to move, he grasped her wrist and gave a small tug, commanding her to rise from the table. Her legs trembled with the exertion to hold her weight. When she turned she gasped staring at the naked man before her. Her eyes went to the floor in respect, but they were diverted to his now limp manhood. She looked between his toned body to her ratty garments, her mind trying to connect the two participating bodies of the recent events. She let out a whimper. Skeletor watched her for a moment before following her gaze and with a surprised start, found his limp sex tinged with blood. Well she was new to a man of his standard so it was only natural her body needed to adjust to accommodate.
“Are you going to give me any trouble, my dear?” Skeletor asked, standing as a god before the petit woman.
Ella shook her head, pulling her gaze from their lower regions to stare into the sightless face of the man who just gave her the most intense experience of her life. She didn’t know what to say. There was a part of her that should have felt ashamed for allowing such a thing. It was countermanded by another, louder part roared that it was complete and she desired more of such intimate contact. The idea was punctuated by a pleasant throb deep in her body.
“No, my lord,” she answered, casting her eyes down. She couldn’t keep here gaze away from his sex, staring in confusion at the lack of guilt that should have plagued her consciousness.
Skeletor gave a chuckle, knowing where her gaze fell. He strutted to his throne, pulling a vast purple cloak from the side and draping it around his shoulders. He turned, half expecting the woman to scream and run away. He wouldn’t be surprised if she tired to kill him for what he just enjoyed of her hospitalities.
“Will you try to escape?” he asked as walked to her, standing as the true lord and master of the domain.
“And return to what? My village is gone. The people scattered or dead, the farms and homes burnt to the ground.” Ella said, her hands grasping the edge of the table to steady herself as she looked into the cold, fathomless face of the man who now owned her very soul. “What is there to return to? More hard work with countless hours toiling in hot sun and cold heavy snows, huddling in a ruined home without way to repair or pay for its upkeep?”
“You do not expect King Randor to hear of your plight and come to your rescue?” Skeletor asked, feeling all the tenseness and anxiety that normally cloaked his shoulders to be missing. Now, he felt light, free, and in need of a long slumber.
“Only those close to the castle are under the watchful eye of the King and He-Man. They are the ones who benefit from their neighbors and generous souls. Out in the badlands, on the outskirts of no where, there are no expectations of royal interference,” Ella said, her eyes darting around the room and the fine tapestries, ornate vases and other assorted decorations that lined the throne room in niches.
“Will you cause unrest amongst my ranks?” Skeletor asked, his gaze traveling from the frayed edges of her skirt to her face.
“No, My lord,” Ella said, bowing her head.
“State your intentions,” Skeletor said, wanting to ferret out untruths. If this slave was going to cause him a headache, he would send her to the dungeons, regardless of the release she just provided.
“You have a big home, in need of servants who can serve you and your men faithfully in turn for room, board, and meals.” She gave Skeletor a resolved look before adding, “I want to survive. I can not do that if I have to rebuild a home that will remain empty, nor can I pay for materials and labor in its construction. Here, I can have what I need to live, and all it requires is my obedience to your rules.”
“And what of our bodies?” Skeletor asked, canting his head with the question. It wasn’t often that he indulged, but if a willing servant was nearby, it could prove to be a pleasant distraction from his recent failures.
“It has been long since someone has stirred within me,” Ella admitted, not wanting to lie to her potential master. If she was careful, she could have a home and abundant food. Something she had been lacking as of late. “I have turned away all offers in such regard.”
“But not mine?” Skeletor asked, his skepticism tingeing his words.
“I..I…” Ella looked confused, her eyes darting around the room yet seeing nothing. “I don’t know what came over me. All I know is I have felt alone and frightened and when you touched me, I felt stirrings that have not been present in a long time.”
“True.” Skeletor admitted. “I have not desired, nor partaken of such carnal pleasures in quite some time. I was surprised that you had responded to me in that manner.”
“It was a gross lax of conduct on my part,” she said, bowing her head. “I apologize for my actions and I ask for your forgiveness.”
“There is nothing to forgive,” Skeletor said, grasping her shoulders and adding, “Look at me”
Ella was reluctant to meet his gaze. Her body still tingled in that pleasant way that she had contemplated on in a long time. She felt her stomach clench at the sightless face, a part of her feeling sorry for the man who had been stripped of his face and his identity all those years ago. What torture he must have endured.
“Serve me well and you will not have a need,” Skeletor said in a soft tone. Though he lacked facial features, Ella could sense he was giving her a sincere look. “And though I do not demand physical pleasure from my slaves, be warned. My soldiers hold no such reservation. I will give the command that you are to be left alone. If any attempt to take you, merely call my name three times and I will hear it and punish them.”
Ella frowned, not sure she understood. “So the only one who may touch me, is you?”
“If you so wish it,” Skeletor said, his finger tracing her cheek in a gentle manner quiet unlike himself. The pleasant buzz about his system must have affected his brain. “If you desire to share my bed, that is your decision.” To his surprise she brushed her cheek against his hand, a look of acceptance shining in her brown eyes. He felt a warmth spread over his body, and added, “I do not share my bed easily, but know this. I will not tolerate insolence and incompetence. You may be granted access to my domain but that comes with a heavy price that you may not be willing to pay.”
Ella bowed her head, her cheek grazing his hand in a display of hesitant affection. She understood, and she relented to his control.
“If you are to remain my personal attendant, I will brand you with magic, marking you as my own so others will know you are not to be touched,” Skeletor said, feeling a surge of power that had nothing to do with the release he just experienced.
Ella wondered what this magical branding consisted of. She had a few scars from childhood accidents, and her feather’s hand had been stern while under his roof. She had enough physical scars to last a lifetime.
“The hour is late,” Skeletor said, noting the moon hanging in the sky. “Come. Let us retire.”
Ella made to follow her new master but her legs gave a nasty wobble and she fell against the table. Her eyes caught the multiple grooves she had scratched into its surface as she had felt the first real twinges of being a woman. Much to her surprise, Skeletor came to her side and picked her up, bridal style and carried her out of the throne room. As they descended a dark stair case, the sounds of distant screaming could be heard.
“What is that?” Ella asked, clutching the male body in fear. Two coals of hellfire glowed in the eyes of Skeletor’s face.
“That is the sound of your villagers learning their place within Snake Mountain,” Skeletor explained. Another scream was punctuated by an angered roar that could have only come from Beast Man.
Feeling a chill seep through her, Elle huddled closer to the broad chest, her eyes remained fixed on her lap. She found comfort in the steady beat of his heart. Not sure of their destination, she waited for her new lord and master to explain things, but Skeletor remained silent though the hall and down the staircase. A large set of ornate doors stood, guarded by two statues. Skeletor headed straight for the doors, which opened at his presence, allowing admittance. Candles burst into life upon the master’s entry. Ella was startled by the sudden illumination. Her eyes widened when she realized it was Skeletor’s own private chambers. He made for the bed, and though she was willing to do what was necessary to ensure her survival she wasn’t sure if her body was ready for his intimate touch so soon. Gently he laid her on the bed.
“Sleep,” Skeletor commanded, much to Ella’s surprise.
“In the morrow you will bathe and I will have suitable attire for you. I will not have my servant looking like the scuff that Randor tosses aside.” Skeletor said, his voice gravely with the mention of his despised rival.
Skeletor waved his hand and she fell into a deep sleep. He watched her sleep for a moment, paying particular attention to her features. She wasn’t the fairest of females to grace Eternia. She was rather plain, with auburn hair cut unevenly to just below her shoulders. Brown eyes, calloused hands, and a stalwart body that had seen much hard work. Skeletor had no doubt she would be an excellent worker. And something told him she would serve him as she had promised, the fear of the unknown lingering in her mind at the alternative. Women, regardless of age and former position, did not do well on their own in the far reaches of the kingdom.
Realizing the lateness of the hour he shed his cloak and conjured a hot bath where he immersed himself in the steaming water. The stain of Ella’s claiming dissolved in the water, but her touch was still upon his skin even until the morning hours when he rose and exited his quarters.

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I hope this is easier to read and again, I apologize for the errors of the first chapters.
All thoughts/comments are appreciated.
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