Lords of Itaea

[One Eyed Jack]

He chuckled, smiling down on her while his pelvis ground against her in slow circles – further letting her grow accustomed to his invasion of her sex. “I love how you call me that.” The wolf’s grin returning.

He slowly withdrew his cock, letting it drag along her tight walls until just the tip remained. Changing direction to press back in; she let her body go free, and soon she matched his movements to meet and compliment his.

As he continued what he would consider gentle thrusting into her, he was amazed at how quickly she had moved past the pain and embraced the act. Maybe she had healed herself? Could she do that? The thought excited him, he’d definitely have to find out about that. A self-healing mate could be hours and hours of wicked fun.

With that on his mind, he returned his focus to her in the here-and-now, increasing his speed, pumping into the small girl beneath him. Pravus admired how her body continued to move on impulse; thrilling him far more then all the expert slaves combined. A woman loosing herself in him was infinitely more rewarding then a practiced toy.

His gaze moved lower over her, past the swaying breasts and the tensing muscles of her stomach, and then lower still to take in how her lips parted to wrap around and hold onto his large cock as it disappeared inside her repeatedly.

“I wish to watch you from a better angle,” he told her, as he ran his hands under her back, and lifted her up as he lay back. Soon she was on top of him, straddling his hip. “Ride it Tharalon, my gorgeous witch. Let me look on you as you learn to enjoy it.”

 

[Nibbles_n_Tits]

Tharalon

“My lord…”

“I love how you call me that.” From beneath him she smiled, as with practiced ease, he ground into her, the slow circle of his hips driving easy movements that allowed Tharalon to become familiar with his presence inside her. He was grinning what was becoming a familiar grin, it was wicked, but with genuine humor and for some unknown reason although it made her feel vulnerable it was not an unpleasant feeling.

It was with disappointment she felt him pull from her… Is that it? Was that all?... No… She nearly answered her question aloud as he pushed back into her but instead she simply blew the surprised air from her lungs as he filled her with his cock. It didn’t take her long to get caught in his rhythm and move with him. Pulling and thrusting, joining and separating, there was no thought in what she did, she moved only for the pleasure of it. Her legs held on to him, pulling him in with each thrust and her hands reached over her head, pushing into the bed, arching her back and lifting her chest.

He seemed to be looking, watching their bodies move, connecting, dividing, and reuniting. She lifted her head from the bed, to see it too, but his weight shifted. She cried out, her head falling back to the bed and spilling her hair over her face. Her back arched, trying to press her chest to his, seeking the touch of him against her nipples.

“I wish to watch you from a better angle,” he told her.

Her hands loosened from the sheets and he lifted her up and leaned himself back on bed. They hung, unused at her sides, until she lifted one to push her mass of red curls from her face. Without moving, she straddled his hips, just absorbing the new sensations created by the new positioning of their bodies.

“Ride it Tharalon, my gorgeous witch. Let me look on you as you learn to enjoy it.”

Slowly, she arched her back, her chest pushing her tits forward as she raised her hands over her head. She stretched as long and as high as she could and then began to part her knees wider as she released the tension her body. She sank on to him, her lips mouthing a silent oh as she settled on his pelvis and his cock could go o further.

“What…?” Her face was a mixture of confusion, indecision, and pleasure. Her hands fluttered uselessly but she raised her body up on her knees then settled back on his hips, impaling herself on his cock. And again, harder the second time than the first, she whimpered and grinned at the same time. Drawing a quick breath through parted lips, she rocked her hips against him, grinding her body, her pussy on to him. Her eyes widened as she pushed a moan from her lips and her hands searched for something to hold onto. Her chest rose and fell, moved by the rapid breaths she drew. In one motion, she ran her hands down his stomach, over her thighs and up to her chest, while her body rocked and ground on him. Her hands held her tits, as her head tossed back and she felt as if she was losing control of her body. Hot, wet, and tight, her muscles grasped around his cock, squeezing and throbbing as she moved harder and faster on him. Her moans were broken only by the time it took her draw the next breath.

“My Lord…. What… do I do?’

 

[RedHairedandFriendly]

Lisheeda gets hot. . .

“Someone’s coming,” Lisheeda whispered to Bellatonia who had been quietly humming a tune as her ghostly image leaned against one of the corners in the cell. Bellatonia smiled and suddenly disappeared. “Where did you go?” Lisheeda called and then heard the whispered, “I am always with you,” in her head. A calmness swept over Lisheeda and she felt at peace, now that she was no longer alone.

“I tell ya she’s mad. She’s been down here talking to herself. The Lord’s got a crazy slut this time.”

“I hear she sings like an angel though. . .are you sure we should be doing this?”

“Sings? I heard she was deaf and dumb, just like that Witch. The Lord’s gone. He’ll never know. Besides I saw them bringing her in. She’s already been fucked, he’ll never know we dipped our wicks into the honey pot.”

“That Witch is anything but dumb and deaf? Only in the way of hearing. . .I swear she has a sense when things are happening around her even if she shouldn’t ‘hear’ them.”

Lisheeda watched the door open and light flood into her tiny room. “Stay back girl, we’ll come to you.”

She remained still, as her eyes adjusted. She felt hands on her arms and she was dragged forth as she tried to gain her footing. “She stinks,” the man on her right muttered and shoved her forward, wiping the filth that had transferred from her naked body to his hands. “Lets get her washed up before we have our fun.”

Lisheeda felt a sense of dread fill her. She had heard the men talking and knew what her fate would be. She hissed low and turned on them both. “Your Lord will kill you if he finds out about this. I am his property and have not yet been given to his men.” She prayed she was not lying, she prayed she had not been abandoned by the one man that could save her from being used by so many. A shudder of disbelief filled her as she realized that she needed Lord Slythe to keep her safe. “You need me,” Bellatonia whispered and Lisheeda inwardly agreed.

“Shut up whore. If you say a word, you’ll lose your tongue. We have a right to fuck what the Lord claims is his. If it weren’t for us, he’d have nothing.”

The larger of the two, grabbed Lisheeda and dragged her along the floor as she tried to claw his arm loose from its steely grip. “My chambers is already full of a hot bath, we’ll take her there.”

“You’ve been planning this since she got here, haven’t you Slither?”

“Aye Carlton, that I have. She’s too fine a lass to not share.”

Lisheeda tried to comprehend her surroundings, hoping that an opportunity to escape would soon present itself. Unceremoniously she was shoved into a chamber where a bed sat against a wall and a tub sat in front of a fireplace. Without much effort, her tiny frame was lifted and dropped in the scalding hot liquid. She screamed as the water burned her flesh, turning it a bright red. “Shut up, girl!” The slap ricochet through her body.

 

[One Eyed Jack]

“Do? You do just as you are my sweet,” his voice held an edge of humor, but also insistence. “I’m close – so very close. Just listen to your body, let it run free. What is natural is best.”

He very much doubted that she’d reach another orgasm, but she was plainly still enjoying herself. His words faded into moans, and then to more primal grunts as he raised his hips to collide with her every fall. The fiery haired girl continued to let her hands roam and explore her body, giving him the most delightful show whenever he could keep his eyes open.

“Gods above and below! Tharalon, keep going!” His hands grabbed her knees and pulled her down around him as he bucked frantically into her tight tunnel. His breath was caught as he drove himself to finish. Finally he howled, back arched out from the bed to embed himself as deeply into her as possible. Thick flows of his seed shot into his witch and continued to do so for several more frantic thrusts until finally falling limp on the bed. His slowly deflating cock still wedge inside the tiny girl above him.

His grin returned as he looked up at her, “Well done Tharalon, wel done indeed.” He took a deep breath to try and collect himself. It was the first time in quite a long time that he’d come without intentionally causing someone harm. The conquest of his witch was a far more interesting game then could be played with simple threats and violence.

 

[Nibbles_n_Tits]

Tharalon

“Do? You do just as you are my sweet,” his voice held an edge of humor, but also insistence. “I’m close – so very close. Just listen to your body, let it run free. What is natural is best.”

So very close…. She knew what he meant; she just didn’t know what he wanted, how to give him what he had given her. She did not know what was natural; she only knew what she wanted –what felt good to her. Therefore, that is what she did. She took her pleasure from him. He would not instruct her in what pleased him, so she pleased herself with his body and her own hands. She ran her fingers over her smooth hot skin as her body sheathed his cock. Her hands cupped her breasts as she writhed atop him. Her nails pinched her nipples as he thrust up, reaching into her.

Like an animal, he grunted as he pushed harder to meet her. Their bodies met with a primitive urging that brought both pleasure and pain to the inexperienced witch but she was too enthralled by the moment to care. She was determined to take what he gave and give him what he wanted.

“Gods above and below! Tharalon, keep going!”

She wouldn’t stop; she couldn’t stop. His hands held her legs, holding her down as he thrust wildly into her. Her hands grabbed his wrists, helping him, pulling herself onto him as her hips moved around his impaling cock. Her head and shoulders rolled back as he cried out, she felt him shift… change… move… a fullness… something indescribable inside her instinctively her body responded by tightening around him. She held him through the intense thrusts and frantic bucks of his hips, her mind free of thoughts, there were only sensations and emotions. She was both excited and frightened by the animal she rode, and pleasure overwhelmed any pain.

She remained on him even after he relaxed back into the bed, although she tried to hold him as long as she could. Her hands released his wrists and held her breast as if they could cover her nakedness but she relaxed slightly as he grinned up to her.

“Well done Tharalon, well done indeed.” He said with a deep breath. She returned his grin with a smile that couldn’t convey all the emotions she was experiencing. She drew herself up and climbed off him. She knelt beside him on the bed, her knees just touching his hip. With an attempt to look casual and at ease, she arranged her wildly disarrayed red curls to cover her chest and then rested her hands on her thighs. A thousand exclamations, thoughts, and questions ran through the head, she tried to compose herself and choose just one to allow dominance.

Finally, she cocked her head to the side and asked her serious question. “My lord? I don’t understand something. How can the sex-slaves looks so unhappy… if that is how they serve your needs?”

 

[One Eyed Jack]

Pravus lay there, plainly content and enjoying the sensation. He didn’t even pay much attention to her movements, until he choked down a chuckled at her trying to hide her nudity behind her curly hair. But then her question caught him off guard, and he coughed from the surprise.

“Indeed, how can they look so miserable?” Regaining his composure, he laid back down, hands folded behind his head. “Because they have long since failed to please. Despite their training, their breeding, and their bickering amongst themselves as to who is best, they fail to understand what a man wants. I want reaction, honest reaction. Just as I casts down my officers that tell me only what I wish to hear, I toss aside slaves that fail to give an honest performance.” He did not tell her that ‘toss aside really meant he forced ‘honest performances’ of fear and pain from them. No need to add that. He did not think himself truly sadistic, only he would not give up on anyone or anything until he took what he had come for; cost be damned.

“If you enjoyed it so my dear, then I suggest we make a habit of this.” A knock came at his door, causing an instant frown. It had best be important, or he’d have the messengers nut sack run up the mainmast.

“My lord, pardon the intrusion, but we’ve just received word from a messenger ship that several attacks from Entaca have occurred along our forts. No specific details as of yet, but they felt the need to send the messengers out before the battles were concluded. They ere not going in our favor.”

“Send word to ready for an assault landing. We’ll bloody well retake the beaches if needed, and then assess who failed to defend the shores.” He sat up in the bed now, clearly angered. The door shut and he remained motionless as a stone thinking matters through.

“Get dressed Tharalon, I’m glad we could have our moment of pleasure before the dirty work begins. We will land shortly, and then you may work on that talisman you have devised.”

He rose from the bed and began pulling on his clothes. War was a pleasure to be enjoyed, if only it did not interrupt sex, or have any taste of defeat.

 

[LitShark]

The small strike-team arrived at the edge of the forest where the scouts had found them a perfect vantage point. Slythe dismounted quickly when they arrived, not wanting anything to betray their position. A slight slope in front of them distinguished the forest from the plain which would soon enough be watered by blood.

To the right of Slythe's view was Morgiana's military camp, rows upon rows of uniform tents. To Slythe's left was Pravus' last remaining mainland tower. Judging by the torches that lined the windows it was well fortified.

"Scouts you have done well. You may return to the fortress." Slythe said dismissively, met by low bows from his scouts. "Now we wait for the clouds to draw together, then we might make the heavens themselves rain blood and death."

 

[Nibbles_n_Tits]

Tharalon

“Indeed, how can they look so miserable?” Regaining his composure, he laid back down, hands folded behind his head. “Because they have long since failed to please. Despite their training, their breeding, and their bickering amongst themselves as to who is best, they fail to understand what a man wants. I want reaction, honest reaction. Just as I casts down my officers that tell me only what I wish to hear, I toss aside slaves that fail to give an honest performance.”

Tharalon wasn’t naive enough to believe that sex was such a pleasant experience for every woman, every time. She knew that she had been fortunate, very fortunate. However, like most of the working middle-class, she assumed that a slave as valuable as one bred solely for the luxury of sex, led a pampered existence in exchange for the service. Since, while working in the tavern she saw many women do as much, receive far less and be satisfied, she had little sympathy for the seemingly petulant slaves.

“I was honest in my responses, my lord. I would have said more, were it not for the fact I couldn’t find the words.”

“If you enjoyed it so my dear, then I suggest we make a habit of this.”

She grinned and blushed at the same time, “I did enjoy it, and I am eager to continue my lessons, Lord Pravus. I think there is still much you can teach me.”

A knock came at his door, and Tharalon looked for a way to cover herself but there was nothing within reach. They were on top of the blankets and her clothes, to grab or dive would only make her look embarrassed or ashamed in front of the messenger. She would rather been naked than be seen acting foolish. So, she remained on her knees next to Pravus and hoped her hair covered…. enough as she listened to the news delivered by the messenger.

The news was not good and the messenger was happy to scurry away unscathed. As he closed the door, Pravus sat up but beyond that, he was still. Tharalon remained motionless and silent while he thought. Her own thoughts moved on to what he would expect of her. An assault landing meant she soon could have wounded soldiers to tend, and her mind raced through the supplies she had for the journey…. Her eyes opened wide and she drew in a sharp breath, she realized she must take…

“Get dressed Tharalon, I’m glad we could have our moment of pleasure before the dirty work begins. We will land shortly, and then you may work on that talisman you have devised.”

“Yes, my lord.” Tharalon slid from the bed and climbed into her shift, getting her gown over her head was a challenge and lacing it back up was impossible. She satisfied herself with a ribbon for her hair and her cloak over her shoulders, the messenger saw her – the whole ship would know soon- there was no point in acting as if it hadn’t happened.

“I’ll begin my preparations so I may have it ready as soon as possible, my lord.” She moved to the door and quickly returned to her own cabin.

 

[One Eyed Jack]

The ships came into the harbor with ease, ready to face an enemy, but found only more of their own soldiers to greet them. The attacks had not gone so well as to burn the docks, or even reach them, it had seemed, but that was where good news ended. His three major fortified positions on Entaca’s former soil, had been attacked almost simultaneously, with two of those battles having gone so poorly, they were over before they had begun. The third at least managed to put up a fight and hold their ground with more then a token force, but casualties had still been high. His grip on all three positions was a joke at best for the moment.

But with the men fleeing to the docks, he had more hands to unload the fleet. They would have no choice but to set camp here, outside the tiny fishing village that had sprung up around his massive docks. He had visions of this sleepy village becoming a thriving center of commerce – but trade over the seas was not possible when so many war raged, or threatened. He’d have to unite the world under his banner to see this place thrive; good that he was not already planning such a thing.

By night fall, the city of tents of his armies dwarfed the town around the docks; the smell of cook fires roasting whatever game the men had caught or brought with them, as well as fish. Tomorrow he would take the entire force to the one fortress he still had at least a finger hold on. He owned nothing more then a day or two march inland, though while he was here with his forces, he might as well change that too.

His marshals had been briefed as to how to organized the troops, and so he finally retired to his massive tent. Several slaves had been brought in, and they scrambled to serve him; taking his coat, and fetching wine. They all looked eager, and anxious. Apparently word had spread that their master took his pleasure from a vassal and not a slave, and they feared becoming…unnecessary.

Wise they should fear it too, their bodies complexly naked save for their silver and gold collars and cuffs, linked by a glittering chain, held little interest for him. Instead he wondered what his witch was up to. Had she finished the talisman she sought to work on? Had she thought on her innocence lost to him this morning? He wanted to summon her, and learn these things, but restrained himself, over a greater need to not disturb any work shy might be doing. A strong witch honing her craft in his service was worth far more then a squealing girl in his bed.

 

[Nibbles_n_Tits]

Tharalon

The red-haired witch quickly moved down the passageway from Lord Pravus’ stately quarters to her luxurious cabin. She held her chin high and ignored anyone she saw along the way, unless they failed to yield to her. She had learned recently that an unflinching stare from her stormy grey eyes was enough to send most people scurrying in the opposite direction.

They don’t know me, but they fear what I can do. I have never hurt anyone… intentionally, yet those people are still afraid. When the war is over and Pravus has won, I will show everyone how kind I am. I just don’t have the time now.

She wanted, she needed tranquility and silence for the final stage of the talisman, but the beginnings were simple. Tharalon had helped her grandmother for years before she made her first one. However, she admitted that she was a little more distracted than usual. Her thoughts were on Lord Pravus and the time she spent in his bed, his time inside her…

No. Focus. I must get this done for him.

Tharalon’s intelligence was in no way above average and she was poorly educated, barely literate but she was exceptionally well trained. From the time her gifts first showed, she her grandmother taught her how to apply them and using them meant focusing her attention on her task. She undressed without aid of the servants and worked in her shift. She made her list, collected what she had with her, noted what she would need later and begun the process of creating a talisman that would bolster Lord Pravus’ stamina. With nothing else to do, she broke only for dinner and worked well into the night. Even when she thought she should be tired, she still felt exhilarated and eager to continue. However, she forced herself to stop, although there was only little more to do before she would be ready for the final stage.

I will just need something of his. Something he will wear against his skin. As she climbed into bed, her thoughts drifted to the feel of his skin beneath her fingers and her hands drifted to the feel of her own skin beneath her fingers.

 

[RedHairedandFriendly]

Lisheeda's search for freedom. . .

Lisheeda felt their hands on her. The two men scrubbed her clean, their hands being liberal in their actions as they dragged across her pussy and her breasts, scratched at her arms and her legs, making sure the caked on rat dung was throughly washed from her person, as well as purposely enjoying fondling her. Her eyes remained open as she allowed them to do what they wanted. Fingers explored her sex and her ass. Hands grasped and squeezed her tits. Still, Lisheeda said nothing. She thought of what to do next. The fools had not yet removed their weapons. They had come for her armed. She had decided to cooperate, gain their trust, or at least make them think she was the docile creature she was portraying and would submit to their will. If they had heard of her earlier death toll, they showed no sign. Apparently they thought their Lord had broke her. . .they were wrong.

“Are you ready child?” Bellatonia whispered.

Lisheeda saw the ghostly woman and smiled. Bellatonia smiled back. As one man hand two fingers shoved into Lisheeda’s soapy pussy, the other was twisting her nipples and sucking on her now clean neck. She heard them talking, telling her what they were going to do to her. How they would use all her orifices. It was over in less than a minute. Her wet hand reaching out, wrapping wet fingers across the handle of one man’s dagger. She ripped it free, bringing it to the throat of the guard that had his fingers on her breasts. His hot crimson blood splattered her face, but she thought nothing of it as the other guard pulled his hand from her cunt and moved to grab the weapon. It was too late for him. The blade was already descending and she plunged it into his neck. More blood sprayed across her and again she cared not.

“Very good,” Bellatonia told her.

Lisheeda looked at the woman, blood pouring down her face, and smiled. “Thank you,” she answered and then washed away the sticky fluid. When she left the tub, the brown filth mingled with the red. She stepped free and wiped herself down with a coarse towel, then she checked the long on the man’s chamber door. Feeling it would hold, she quickly scoured the room for clothing, weapons, and coins. She found all and quickly dressed in a pair of breeches and a long shirt. It was too big for her, but a belt helped to contain it. The colors were black and she knew that would be to her advantage. She looked at the two men, noting one was smaller than the other. His boots were soon hers, stuffed with linens. Each man’s dagger was slipped into each boot, and another weapon, a smaller one, was hidden in her shirt’s sleeve. She braided her hair and then took a deep breath.

“Are you ready?” she asked the woman that had been silently watching her.

“I am always ready.”

Nodding her head, Lisheeda quietly made her way to the door and opened it slowly. She peered out, checking down the dark hall. She stepped into it, darting to a torch that helped to aide the darkness. The more difficult she made this, the easier it would be for her. Lisheeda extinguished the torch, allowing her eyes to focus on the next beam of light that beckoned her. One blade remained in her hand, as she kept her arm to the side. Her pulse raced as she made her way to the next torch and extinguished it. The first man she encountered, slipped to the floor, his blood spilling from a throat that had tried to scream. . .

 

[One Eyed Jack]

Morning came, and the familiar scent of fires being re-kindled for cooking and warmth greeted him. A quiet morning made for the perfect dawn of a renewed war. Three slave girls lay beside his bed, roughly used last night as he thought more on his witch, and what he would do to Morgiana. Perhaps put that proud woman in a collar and chains no better then his other fuck toys.

But with the witch, it galled and excited him all at the same time how he could not simply force his will on her. Too valuable, and too dangerous to risk anything but a kinder hand.

Rising from bed, he dressed with the help of slaves he did not even acknowledge, and stepped from his massive tent. They would march today with the bulk of his army for the fortress that held out the best. From their he could work to reclaim anything else. He’d leave one battalion at the docks to help keep them secure, and to aid in offloading more ships full of supplies and re-enforcements. Within a week the entire army of Molovica would be on the mainland. He hoped that was enough to crush that bitch Morgiana this time. He could not afford a two front war, so Entaca had to dealt with swiftly if he were to have any success against the Dark Forces that reportedly already had scouts in the area.

A tent, not far off, nearly as large as his own held the meeting area for his generals. Inside he found them working on how best to protect the supply trains after they gained the fortress. Pravus was pleased overall, making only minor changes to their plans, then sent them on their way to issue the orders. Sitting in a large, gilded chair, alone save for a few servants, he thought to himself about plans and deceptions, and the thrill of conquest.

Finally, curiosity over the witch, her talisman and even lust of her body, he summoned the girl – sending one of the slaves to fetch her.

 

[Erotic_Beauty]

Morgiana wrapped her arms around Olam’s neck and held tight to him as he tugged on her nipple. “More,” she hissed, staring down at him as she lifted and dropped herself.

Her fingers dug in his hair, holding him to her tit and forcing him to continue suckling her hard bead. She threw her head back, moaning and growling low in her throat, the rumbling mingling with the sounds of their frenzied passion.

She felt her juices slipping from her pussy, coating her lover’s cock and yet she still wanted to feel herself explode on top of him. Her clit ground against his curls. The friction bringing more ripples of pleasure that danced across her skin.

“Ooh...yes... Olam!” she screamed his name as her cum erupted from deep within her. She stopped bouncing, dropping herself down, holding him tight within her.

Her hand gripped his hair and she jerked him from her nipple, leaned his back and buried her teeth into his neck, sucked on his flesh and showered him with another wave of hot fluids.

“Cum for me,” she pleaded, milking his cock, over and over as she felt her own desires bubbling up and popping around his massive rod.

 

[Tseranc]

Having given in to his body’s urges, thanks to her teasing and forceful act, Olam finally let go of fear. His cock pressed up into Morgiana as far as he could manage with her still straddling him. Her griping and quivering muscles pulling on him as urgently as her hand yanked on his hair.

His hands left her breasts, and instead gripped her hips, pulling her down on him as he struggled to continue the rhythm of their mating. With continued rabid bites on his neck and shoulders, he gave in completely. Olam pushed her down so that she was laying on the bed, and crawled over her for better access. Here he pushed his cock deep inside her repeatedly at a pace he could not have managed from below. Pounding into her it took but a moment to finish what she had started, and he felt the chemical passion rip down his spine, and shoot out into the woman below him. “Oh Gods long gone,” he curse as stream after stream was pumped into the body of his Mistress.

Utterly spent, his arms buckled, and he fell tot eh bed; his chest hitting the mattress beside her, while his lower half still held his stiff rod inside her. “Thank you Mistress,” came naturally off his lips, but then the shock of what he’d done hit, and to who. He want ridged with fear of her next words.

 

[Erotic_Beauty]

Her breath came in ragged gasps as she felt his cock wedged inside her tight home. His words of thanks fell on her ears and for a moment she was confused as to what he was thanking her for, for she felt as if she should have been thanking him.

She ran one hand over his sweat soaked shoulder and then turned her head, capturing his lips. "Thank you," she whispered, licking her way across his jaw and the down to where she'd bruised his flesh with her teeth.

Morgiana shifted, her Magician's cock slipped from her hot sheath and she took his arm, wrapping it around her waist and then snuggling into the warmth of his chest.

"Tomorrow I may die or we may lose a battle and I my kingdom. . .this one night I am not your Mistress and you are not my Magician. We are just a man and a woman."

She turned to him, claiming his mouth and then once more letting her body roll to lie chest to chest with him.

"Hold me Olam. . .and for just this night, let me rest believing I am loved."

Closing her eyes she buried her head into his chest and tried to fall asleep. Thoughts of the next day stayed on her mind and she knew tomorrow would be the beginning of the end for either her or Lord Pravus.

 

[Tseranc]

He couldn’t believe his ears, but he thought he understood. If only she knew all he felt. It might not be the love told in tales for children or the foolish, but a deep respect, and sorrow for her circumstances. A need to help her, if that wasn’t a love, then he was sure he’d never feel what was.

“You are, Mistress Morgiana, you are. As a woman and a Mistress, you are loved.” He hugged her tight to him, running his fingers through her hair; the sweat dampened locks moved felt like silk. Indeed tomorrow they might die, but most around her had always lived under that threat. Perhaps the idea of an enemy being your demise shook her somehow, and let her crave a moment of rest. No matter the case, he was proud to be the man she chose this moment with.

He lay there, listening to her breath; each getting deeper and slower then the last. He prayed she found the rest she needed, pulling a blanket over them both, as he continued to hold her naked body to his.

 

[Erotic_Beauty]

Morgiana heard the rustling of the camp stir her from her warm slumber. She opened her eyes and stared at her sleeping lover. She had heard his words, moments before she fell asleep and she wondered if he had meant them.

Her mother had confessed to her that a man will tell a woman anything if it meant they could rut with them, but Morgiana wanted to believe Olam had meant the words.

She slipped from his side and quickly pulled on a pair of breeches and a tunic, as well as boots and her weapons. Stepping into the woods, she was greeted with the smell of breakfast settling in the air.

A slave came forth with her meal and she directed them to deposit inside for her Magician to enjoy. Her own hunger was a second thought to what lay in store for them this day.

The generals and captains of her guard were all huddled together and she joined them, a look of unspoken questions on her face.

"A scout claims Pravus has landed and it looks as if they will advance to the final fortress."

She studied the maps that were out and then drew a line across one particular gorge where the Lord's men would have to travel. "We will strike here. . .Let them get inside it. Our archers will wait, until signalled and then our weapons will rain down on them."

The ambush would annilate more of his men. She could not afford to let him reach the final fortress, for it was decided it would be much harder for them to conquer than the others. Also, once Pravus was safely encosed in the walls, it would be difficult to kill him.

 

[Nibbles_n_Tits]

Tharalon

Tharalon was deep into her books when the slave arrived to convey Lord Pravus’ summons.

The practice of her craft, studying to advance her knowledge and planning her future garden, was the constant occupation of her spare time. Lord Pravus had lit more than one fire the girl; she now had a great desire to improve her abilities. Tharalon had many flaws but sloth was not one of them, so when she had advanced on the talisman as far as she felt she could do without danger she returned to examine the texts she brought with her. The reading was slow going, hampered by her limited literacy but she perused each page with patient dedication. However, she was grateful for the interruption.

The slave waited impatiently while Tharalon carefully locked away her books and every thing she would need for the creation of Lord Pravus’ gift. Only her hands could touch those things until the talisman was completed. She was so happy with the progress of the charm that it was not until she nearly reached his tent that she recalled her reasons to be embarrassed in his presence.

She was coyly pink cheeked as she curtsied before his gilded chair but her excitement was irrepressible.

“My lord,” She smiled as she rose from her genuflection, “I am nearly ready to complete your talisman. I will need something of yours, something you would wear next to your skin, it need not be large.”

 

[One Eyed Jack]

Pravus looked down her dress, as she curtsied deeply, and then admired her pink cheeks, likely from having caught him admire her body again.

“Something next to my skin you say?” He rose from his seat and paced a moment wondering what to give her. Finally he removed a large golden ring from his finger and walked over to place it in the palm of her hand. “Will this work? It is the ring from the last ruler of Molovica, apparently having been handed down through the generations of his family as a symbol of their right to rule. He told me I could pry it from his cold dead hands…but his fingers were still warm when I took it, though he had the dead part right.”

He took a step back to admire her dress, now knowing exactly what he cloth hid, and wished he’d had the option of just enslaving the girl. Chains and little else would so much better suit her body. But things as they were, he still had managed the best of what he had, and looked forward to when he could enjoy her again. “How long will it take you to finish? We are preparing to move, but I shall wait on you to complete this. Your work is that important to me.”

Still innocent looking, she probably wouldn’t be the time to go for a quick screw on the map table – pity…

 

[Nibbles_n_Tits]

Tharalon

“Something next to my skin you say?” Nodding her head, she watched as Lord Pravus rose from his throne-like chair and paced as he made his decision. He moved with an easy, athletic grace that held her attention with a new appreciation. She recognized the direction her thoughts were trying to take and pushed them away. It was time focus on other matters, she told herself.

“Will this work?” She held out her hand and he placed in her palm a large golden ring. She barely looked at it; instead, she wrapped her fingers around it. It still carried the heat from his body. “It is the ring from the last ruler of Molovica, apparently having been handed down through the generations of his family as a symbol of their right to rule. He told me I could pry it from his cold dead hands…but his fingers were still warm when I took it, though he had the dead part right.”

Tharalon knew a different warlord had ruled Molovica before Lord Pravus took control but major events in the capitol barely influenced her quiet little fishing village. She wouldn’t think about how Lord Pravus came to wear the ring. She had been carefully constructing an idealized picture of Lord Pravus as the great hero of the people; now she would allow nothing to disturb her personal fantasy.

“How long will it take you to finish? We are preparing to move, but I shall wait on you to complete this. Your work is that important to me.”

“Thank you, my Lord. I have no desire to delay your plans, everything set, and I will need just a few hours of undisturbed quiet.” She thought quickly, three hours without interruption should be enough time but she did not want to feel rushed and risk… anything bad. “Four hours, Lord Pravus, will see it completed.” She frowned, her brows drawing together, making her concern obvious. “If we are to depart immediately, I may need assistance –I will be drained- but with aid I will cause you no further delays.”

 

[One Eyed Jack]

“Very well, you shall have the time you need my dear. I will have you placed in a wagon to ride and rest in when we leave.” Pravus thought he caught something in her glance, but dismissed it. Imagined or not, he sadly had no time for such pleasantries. “You shall have all the aid and comfort's possible, Miss Tharalon.”

Another head appeared inside the flaps of the tend, belonging to his military aide. “My Lord, General Wynou seeks your audience.” grumbling, Prvaus waved his hand, gesturing to being the general in. “My apologies for such a brief chat my dear, but it seems that I still have need to direct the obvious.”

No sooner had the aide disappeared behind the tent flaps then the General marched through them, obviously irritated for having to wait at all. “The cavalry is ready, and waiting on the foot and supply lines only slows our advance My Lord. Send me ahead to take the fortress, and we can have everything ready to properly receive you.”

The man, while brilliant at tactics involving a horse, somehow missed the importance of everything else. He was brought up as a noble under the previous Warlord, and shunned the military contributions of mere commoners, like foot, and archers.

Ignoring the general a moment longer, Pravus remained intent on Tharalon, “I must deal with this man now, have something to eat before you begin, the camps will all be packed up by the time you are done.” His voice was soft, and soothing, as much for her benefit as it was the general, who received a very different tone. “Now General, as I have explained time, and again, I require the Cavalry to protect the supply train. Nothing in that has changed, and so neither shall your orders.” Damn but if he could send the man ahead, at least he wouldn't have to hear him bitching the entire trip. “If you are so impatient to depart, then take one hundred men from the 3rd battalion as well as a stone mason, carpenter and clerk, and ride to the remaining fortress, to begin the damage assessment there. You can set the men there to work on strengthening the defenses while the craftsmen prepare a plan on how to best use the supplies we bring.” His tone, this time, was like ice. “You may depart immediately.”

The General had not gotten the glory he sought, but apparently it was better then sitting around waiting. He bowed and left the tent. One hundred soldiers and the craftsmen indicated rode away from the main camps withing 30 minutes of his meeting with Pravus.

 

[Katamari Roller]

Brita sighed to herself, watching Slythe leave. Busy times were coming, and he would not be spending much time with her. Still, she knew it was important for Lord Zathu to go to war every once in a while, so as to not lose his skill. And besides... he enjoyed it. He enjoyed inflicting pain upon others, and Brita knew that it was not something that he could control as well as she did.

A person could not always control every aspect of his or her personality the same way another did. But Brita would be so happy if she could live with Slythe in a calm place, away from danger and enemies...

Her arms, wrapped in her white dress and fur coat, took the pipe-like artifact. Brita felt a bit of curiousity about it, but it was toned down by her current dream. Lacking Slythe's company, she hugged the pipe, letting it lean against her body. It felt cold against her bust and legs, and elicited a bit of... pleasure. Another sigh escaped her, still as melancholic as the first, as she let herself fall onto the bed, her white dress pouring around her like a fountain's water.

These would be lonely days indeed...

 

[LitShark]

Slythe hissed at the action unfolding before him: A small party of Morgiana's forces interceptng a small useless supply train bound for the smoldering remains of their sacked outpost. Predisposed to all-out shows of force, Slythe was sick of waiting, he motioned a direction and the scouts dutifully angled the trebouchet toward Morgiana's camp. The first diseased cow flipped and spun through the air in a wild dance durring its flight toward the large stretch of tents. The animal struck the ground head-first with a loud thud before skidding and flipping through the camp, mowing a long jagged line through the organized tents. Diseased blood spewed from the marred cacasse in its sommersaulting, violent journey through the camp like a fountain of death.

It was then that Slythe spotted them, the storied calvalry of Pravus' army. Slythe's mouth practically watered at the sight.

"Redirect, target the supply train." Slythe shouted.

The scouts rushed to comply, the catapault was heavy, but they were able bodied enough. In no time the second "Viral-Calf" flew from the clump of trees that provided them shelter. The Cow's leg remained entangled with the rigging of the massive wooden ediface and was ripped from its torso when it left its sling. Long spirals of blood followed the beast's descent into the ranks of craftsmen and soldiers on horseback.

Bovine flesh met equuine sinew in a vulgar and upsetting collision that seemed to detonate the poor diseased corpse. Infectious blood sprayed in all directions as the rider who was first struck crumbled right along with his horse under the onslaught of heavy flesh.

Slythe squealed in delight at the agony he was inflicting. His hands were died red with the blood of is enemies once again. It felt good, figurative though it was. The blood would be literal soon enough.

 

[Erotic_Beauty]

The first volley of arrows struck the craftsman at the same time as the diseased cows flew and landed into the air. Morgaina’s men hurried to turn their arrows onto Slythe, all knowing who had fired the diseased creatures.

They advanced toward him, making their way past dead comrades and ignoring their pleas for help. There was no help for them, even now they were breathing in the poisons of the cows and they too would die, but not before Morgaina’s men claimed some of their enemies lives.

The Captain, grabbed one of his men and ordered him back to camp, but made sure he knew he was to hover on the edge, then end his life, for he too would be carrying a disease. Their Mistress had to be protected. They needed her to be aware of the situation as well as the magician, so he could ready the necessary remedies that many would need.

Swords were raised as Morgaina’s men attacked and battled with their enemies, ignoring the wailing cries of Pravus men that had been double ambushed. Out of the corner of his eye the Captain, noticed one of Pravus’ men scrabble away and he inwardly hoped the man would reach Pravus’ camp before he too died. Perhaps Morgaina and Pravus would end up joining forces to take down the Dark Lord.

 

[LitShark]

Not long after the final plague cow joined its brethren in the newly formed bloody sespool of blood, guts and disease. The dismembered cows had created a swamp of entrails and diseased bile in the center of the battlefield. Slythe turned his attention to the small hoarde of Morgiana's troops that were advancing upon their position. Arrows showered the treeline in the direction of the trebouchet. The trees absorbed the majority of the arrows, many others managed to strike the huge wooden structure which had fired the plague cows.

Slythe's crooked lips curved into a devious smile as the soldiers approached. Rhonwen looked poised for combat, unfortunately for her, Slythe had no intention of fighting fair.

One of the dark figures operating the trebouchet was struck in the shoulder by one of Morgiana's arrows. The man barely flinched, he simply broke the shaft off, leaving half of the arrow still lodged in his flesh. He moved over to one of the trees on their parimeter while his counterpart moved to a tree on the opposite side, both looked toward Slythe with solemn eyes.

"Not yet," Slythe said, mounting his midnight colored steed. "Rhonwen, you might want to take your mount as well. Our mission has been accomplised, the rest is for these two. No Klitich! I said HOLD!"

Slythe positioned his horse in the direction of their escape. A quick glance over his shoulder displayed the oncommng soldiers. They were close enough that Slythe could see the hatred and despiration in their eyes.

"Hoooold!"

Dry leaves crunched under warboots as the soldiers hit the first trees of the treeline. They were now close enough that Slythe could even see the fear looming at the back of Morgiana's swift moving soldiers.

"NOW!!!"

Slythe shouted and spurred his horse, sending it into a full gallop. At his command the two dark men pulled migtily on razor thin wires that were wrapped around the trees at their perimeter. Dry leaves shot into the air in a shower of amber, gold and yellow.

The front runners spotted the razor wire nets first. They tried to halt their charge, but the dead leaves underfoot kept them from stopping hard. The oncomming soldiers behind them couldn't tell why their commrades were stopping and continued their bloodthirsty surge toward the catapault.

Men shoved men onward to their impending deaths. From inside the net it was a grotesque scene, watching as friends pushed friends through a net of death, turning men into a bloody mockery of spaghetti noodles. Between 30 and 50 soldiers met their deaths before the piles of bodies and gore created a wall, blocking off the rest of the oncoming troops. The two men moved back to the center of the clearing and saluted eachother as Morgiana's troops moved around to charge in at the two remaining dark soldiers.

The man who was hit by the arrow was the first to be met by a thrusting sword through his belly. Just as the solemn man coghed diseased blood into his attacker's face, a short fuse burned quickly up his sleeve.

Both men simultaneously detonated their gunpowder vests, sending flame, trees, bodies and blood flying in all directions. The suicide bombers had served their purpose. Many enemies of the darkness lay dead and dieing as Slythe and Rhonwen sped through the Forest of Despair.