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A Looter's Experiment

Levy militia were chickenshit scum half the time. Roderick knew this by being one conscripted peasant himself. Whenever he and the rest of the unlucky schmucks were in the field, he made sure to stick to the sides and a little bit to the rear. Staying at the rear was an amateur mistake; the ones at the very back were always pushed aside and trampled on once the rout started. That’s not to mention the fact that the commanding nobleman - whoever it was at the time - often picked out the ones at the rear and made examples of them.

Said nobleman - Roderick really couldn’t remember his name - was currently showing the world his guts by the city gates. To nobody’s surprise, the levy under his command had scattered in the wind, away from the city where the fighting was fierce. Most of them except for Roderick, that was. He was wily enough to understand that opportunities were to be had that outweighed the risk of death. He wasn’t that much of a coward.

Life was rough as a peasant, Roderick knew. Nothing but the constant drudgery of the fields, grazing of livestock and the fear of starvation if whatever lord that was currently ruling over his village had decided that feasting in the winter was the best way to ration the food stores.

The sacking of this city might just provide him enough money to live comfortably by himself.

And here Roderick was, scouring through the corpses in an empty street by the poor residences with a large burlap sack he had hidden beneath his tunic and passed off as ‘extra padding’. His gaze skipped over finely forged swords and plate and honed in instead on coin pouches, jewelry, and the daggers he found on noble warriors that were sure to fetch more than a few shiny silvers with the right buyers.

The sound of shouting men gave Roderick pause and he darted into a nearby house just as the first armored foot rounded the corner. No matter which side it was, he’d probably get run down once they recognized him as a looter, Roderick thought bitterly to himself as he watched the knights’ shadows dance beneath the crack at the bottom of the door. He gripped the haft of his short spear tight, the other hand holding the lip of the sack.

A high-pitched yell from behind Roderick startled him and he spun around and thrust the spear forward. An ashen-faced woman glanced at the spear stuck between her ribs and toppled backwards, her raised knife clattering to the ground beside her. Roderick blanched at the sight of the bloody spear tip. “Crazy bint,” he muttered, “Why’d you go and have to do that?”

The corpse twitched on the ground. No, Roderick realized, it was crawling away. The woman was still alive and his stomach dropped at the sight of blood oozing out of her chest. He left the sack on the floor and neared her apprehensively. He hadn’t actually killed anyone yet. After seeing her finally stop on the floor a few feet away with one last gurgle, he decided that he’d rather not do it again.

Roderick timidly poked the body with the butt of his spear. When the woman didn’t respond, he got down on his knees and carefully flipped her face-up. His fingers went slick with blood immediately as they slipped into the warm pool of blood below her torso. He grimaced and wiped his hands on the relatively unmarked skirt. He was no stranger to blood and corpses, but this felt different.

The woman was younger than he was, he realized after looking at the corpse’s frozen, agonized expression and picking out her youthful features. She was fair-faced with long dark hair. Some blood spatter marked her cheek and he stopped himself from wiping it away with his hand. Several pangs of guilt welled up in his chest. She was too young for this.

Then the cold and hardened part of him that opted to loot bodies and use friends as meatshields took over.

She charged him with a knife. She deserved it. If nothing else, better her than him. She was gone and all that was left was her body.

He frowned at the frozen expression and he felt the familiar pull of curiosity on his heartstrings. One thought that had been burning in the back of his head came to mind.

What was it like?

He’d never been with a woman like plenty of his peers had. For most of his life, he’d been stuck on a farm with hardly anybody but his father to talk to. Once the latter took ill and died, the responsibilities of the farm thrust themselves upon him and he’d had no time to interact with women unless he was selling produce at his stand in the village. He was twenty years old and all he had to show for it was a struggling farm and the spear that he was given by the local blacksmith.

Maybe it was time for him to try new things for new rewards.

Before anything else, he dashed over to the one window illuminating the room and closed the shutters. It was fortunate nobody had seen him beforehand. Streams of sunlight traced along the floor and illuminated the body.

Now all he needed to do was remove its bloody clothes. After a few seconds of thought, he retrieved a dagger from the sack and sat the corpse up. The corpse had a petite figure and the strength he’d gained from hard labor made hauling the corpse to a clean spot on the floor easier. As he set the body down and began cutting its clothes off, he noticed the faint acidic tang of urine in the air and made a face.

“Forgot that happened. You’re a real troublemaker, aren’t you?” he said to the corpse, propping it up and yanking its long hair to make the head bob up and down as if it were agreeing with his question. “I bet you acted all high-and-mighty back when you were alive.”

The corpse didn’t reply, opting instead to slide back to the floor with a thump when he released his grip. Its wide, empty eyes stared back at him as he continued cutting away the bloody tunic.

And then its torso was bare.

Roderick frowned. The piercing wound was an ugly mark and the blood looked and smelt unflattering. He glanced at its relatively clean skirt and pulled it off, wiping away the blood before it could dry.

The red stains remained though they were far less prominent than before. Water would have been a godsend to clean the rest but he didn’t have the time. Somebody could find him here and decide that they didn’t need a filthy defiler like him in the world.

Roderick shoved down his guilty conscience as far as he could. That woman was the enemy. He had all the right to help himself to whatever he wanted from defeated enemies.

She was the enemy. She was right there. He would take what he wanted. It was as simple as that.

He boldly grasped at the cor- woman’s breast. They weren’t as big as what his farmhand friends bragged about fondling, but they filled his hand just enough for him to squeeze without effort. The act was strangely calming and he poked at the nipples, all the while keeping his eyes anywhere but the gaping spear wound.

He experimented with a couple of holds: squeezing lightly and quickly, heavily for a longer period of time, by the lower half, by the upper half. The corner of his lips twitched as he twisted a nipple as hard as he could. “You’ve got fine breasts, you know that? That’s what I think. All those mothers feeding their babes have them too big or they got them shapeless. Haven’t seen any others ‘side from theirs though, so don’t let your head get too big.”

She shrugged her shoulders when he nudged her arms up. Roderick chuckled and he felt something stir below his waist. “Fine, fine. I’ll try something else now.”

While he had taken off her skirt, he hadn’t really paid much attention to what lay underneath. He looked down and saw that below a patch of hair, the vagina still dripped with piss. The other side of the cloth skirt fixed that problem.

He propped her up on a stool, spread her legs and took a good, long look. He knew what he wanted to do and with his cock was pulsating painfully against his clothes, it was easy enough to drown out the last of voices telling him this was wrong.

Something broke then and there.

Roderick disrobed and hesitated for only a moment before plunging in. It was still warm, warm and moist enough for him to shiver in surprise. He pushed slowly, sliding up against her cunt’s walls and with every motion.

He felt himself groan and savored the sound against his throat. One hand drifted down to her breasts while another yanked on her hair. Roderick pressed his lips against hers and his moans were muffled by them as he slowly moved his hips back and forth.

He would've kept the position longer if one of his legs didn't start cramping. Roderick grumbled as he shifted around on the wooden floor. If he had known it would be this difficult, he would have searched for some non-bloody clothes to kneel on.

In the end, he had to stand up fully and bend the woman on a table. The table was just a little too short, however, and he had to use his semi-filled burlap sack to lift her body a little further.

"Are you one of my treasures?" he said. "Spoils of war for little folk like me?"

He shrugged. "Prolly not what the gods intended." Roderick chuckled and smacked her ass. She didn't laugh.

Roderick lined up his stiff lower head with her cunt and pushed forward only to wince slightly. He pushed a little forcefully and was met with mild resistance. She'd gone dry on him.

He swore under his breath. What now? Should he look for water? Maybe some oil? As it was right now, he wouldn't be able to get off without scratching up his head.

"Revenge from beyond the grave," he muttered as he withdrew. Probably for the better, really. His cock was still hanging out, but he could smell the fire and hear the battle cries a short distance away.

He grumbled as he shoved the stiffie down against his pants. Maybe he’d try his luck once the city was sacked. The thought lingered for a moment before he brushed it aside. As if they’d let a dirty peasant farmer like him get picks while anything good was still left over.

He walked over to the doorway and hesitated. It just felt like a huge waste. He could find another pretty lady and do her in, but the thought made his stomach curl in distaste. Killing just didn’t suit him right.

Roderick turned around. He would leave; he just needed to make sure he could come back to something. The woman’s head lolled against the small of his back as he hefted her over his shoulder.

If he remembered right, he saw some empty barrels around the side of the street. He’d just remember to hunt down some oil while he was out looting.


AN: This is my first submission to gurochan and a first jab at erotica in general. It's a bit short since I felt I wasn't going in any direction.

Any feedback would be appreciated!


NICE, just want to read more. And my sadistic side want him to just cut her up, just take the cunt with womb attached, this way he won't have to carry them all.

Your writing is really good, I'm no writer myself so I don't know what to critic on. Keep it up. :D


it ended a bit abruptly but otherwise it's very very good. necro is so underused and when it is it's usually not executed this well.


I enjoyed it, love the necro. You should write more!


This is awesome hope you continue or make more

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