little spiders

The ebony furred woman struggled, wriggling like a worm and snapping with sharp fangs at him, like a crocodile. He admired her attempts but in the end, they were fruitless. Azzaro was robust, broad and strong, a true Dotharan warrior and a woman like her could never wriggle their way out of his grasp. But she had true determination, he'll give her that, at least she wasn't one of those weak willed slave girls.

The obsidian girl finally stopped and told him he fought well and if he was going to let her up. Azzaro tilted his head, as if considering whether or not to let her go. "What is your name?" he questioned.