Hours of relentless fighting passed, and just when the day seemed to blend into an endless symphony of clash and carnage, her heart missed a beat. Across the battlefield, a figure caught her eye. A woman, her fiery red hair a stark contrast against the cold gray stone of the castle walls, was attempting to scale the fortress. An assassin, perhaps, intent on a covert mission.

Ellie, her instincts on high alert, dashed towards the woman, her swift feet carrying her like a shadow. Before the woman could notice her, Ellie had her locked in a powerful chokehold. Her desperation was powerful, but her delicate form could hardly leverage resistance. The woman’s chest heaved with an urgency that was both distressing and captivating. Ellie felt the woman’s body writhe in her iron grip, each muscle straining against her hold in a desperate bid for freedom. A twisted thrill filled Ellie's veins. As she grabbed the woman tightly and dropped to her knees, she took in the feeling of this vibrant life in her grasp. The woman's chest billowed against her grip. Her core felt lively yet delicate and soft contrast to the modest tone of her arms and legs. Her skin was pale as the snow, barely hiding the delicate blue streaks just beneath the surface. Her chest, lightly dusted with a smattering of freckles, began to express her body's limits. It rose and fell in an erratic rhythm, each rise a plea for air, each slowing fall a testament to her fading strength. Her swollen pink face contorted in agony as drool ran down either side of her cheeks onto Ellie's arm.

The assassin's heart pounded like a wild beast against the bars of its cage. It was a powerful, frantic rhythm that reverberated throughout the woman's torso, a raw, primal drumline that became more vivid as her lungs calmed down. Its ferocious beating echoed the woman's will to survive and called Ellie's hand to her sternum. Ellie could feel the desperation, the determination, the unyielding spirit that resided within the fragile form of the woman and nothing excited her more.

However, as the woman's strength waned and her arms and legs fell limp to her side, the heart as well, once punching away at her palm in protest, gradually settled into a slow and inconsistent beat. With one final desperate gasp, the woman's fight for survival came to a close. The woman lay still and silent, the only sounds coming from her a shallow labored breath. Ellie scooped the unconscious woman into her arms and carried her back to her home. Once they were inside, she carefully placed the redhead onto the bed, taking a moment to appreciate her new prize's radiant beauty. There was something enchanting about her, a wild, untamed fire that burned bright even in her unconscious state. Ellie straddled the unconscious woman, her own heart pounding with anticipation as she ran fingers through her hair and explored her like a prize, a trophy of this senseless war. ...

There was little to stop Ellie, who knew that to the world around her, she had nothing but an enemy, less a human than a sack of meat. Still, she was lost in her admiration. Her fingers coveted the soft curves of the redhead's delicate form while her vitals became stronger and more stable by the second. The woman's eyes fluttered open. Lost in the moment, Ellie was taken by surprise. She watched and felt every second of this recovery, but she hadn't planned for what to do. "no-no, not yet, sweetie." Ellie said softly. Her words an angel's hymn, but her intentions a cruel exercise of power. Before the woman had a chance to gather her bearings, Ellie’s hand was around her throat. The woman's eyes widened with terror, that vibrance Ellie felt sitting in the dirt, it was back and more beautiful than ever. Ellie reveled in the control she wielded.

Ellie rested a hand on the redhead's chest, both to support herself and feel the turmoil within. The woman's heart beat erratically under the stress, her hands wrapping around Ellie's arm but to no avail. The strong and steady thump turned into a frantic scramble as her weakened body was consumed by panic. Ellie was keenly aware of the woman's fragile state as a doctor, yet she couldn't help but savor the rush of depraved bliss.

Suddenly, the frantic beat under Ellie's hand stilled, replaced by an unsettling silence. Panic seized her as she realized the woman’s heart had gone into failure.

Ellie's medical training kicked in. She began chest compressions. "Stay with me," she muttered to the still-conscious woman who struggled for breath even with her neck free of pressure.

As Ellie's hands pressed down into the woman's chest, she savored the sensation of the woman's taut and petite frame yielding beneath her weight, her sternum creaking slightly under the pressure, the softness of her bosom cushioning her exertion. The woman's heart beneath her palm, quickly started pumping weakly but determinedly... but Ellie didn't stop. The excitement filled her mind, it made her heart pound. Instead, she continued, fueled by a strange exhilaration. The poor muscle squirmed in a dysrhythmic paralysis under Ellie's command, each sporadic pump an echo of the rhythm she dictated. It was a testament to her will over the beautiful redhead's pallid little chest and the struggling vitality within.

The woman's feeble hands could barely rise in protest; ineffective against Ellie's relentless thrusts into her core. Each pump of her hands, each rebound of the woman's delicate ribs it only reinforced her dominance.

The woman's heart finally gave up, and ceased to beat on its own, the rhythm now entirely dictated by Ellie's hands. It was as if the woman had given in completely, surrendering her very life force to Ellie's whims. Her arms dropped and her eyes glazed over as if in the twilight of consciousness,

With every thrust, Ellie could see the blood coursing through the woman's veins, making them bulge against her neck. the plump little organ responding only to her command. It was a heady sensation - one that sent shivers down Ellie's spine. ---

The redhead's eyes fluttered open to the dim light that filled the room. She winced as a dull throb pulsed through her chest. Looking down across her naked form, she saw the telltale signs of bruising marring her once pristine skin, a deep purple testament to the ordeal she had been put through by the sadistic castle guard. Ellie's touch was indelibly etched into her flesh, a reminder of the terrifying hunger the woman wielded.

Her heart pounded erratically and sharply against her bruised sternum; each beat a reminder of what happened. The woman had played her heart like a musical instrument.

She tried to move, to rise, to escape. But the cold, unforgiving shackles bit into her bare skin, confining her wrists and ankles to the bed. She was trapped, helpless, a prisoner to the whims of her captor.