Slave to the Moon Priestess

[Veroe]

((Closed for Myself and Papillon24))​

IC: The man once named Rhoarc of the northlands

He had no name. The Thycans had taken that too from him. When he was brought to the colliseum he had been given a new name: Antarsus-He should be flattered. Antarsus was the name in their legends of a great and powerful giant in the underworld that crushed the unworthy dead beneath his mighty feet. He liked the thought of being named after a giant that killed Thycans. It was after all pretty much the only purpose left in his life.

He could see why the foul man who owned him chose to name him that. He was easily a foot taller than the tallest Thycan, and he had the broad shoulders and muscles of a man who grew up in the unforgiving forests north of the Thycans Empire's frontier. And he was pale of skin with long wild hair. To them he was nothing short of a brutal giant fighting for them in the Imperial arena.

When a legion of Imperial soldiers marched north to add the northland to the empire for the glory of the Emperor the chieftains of his people banded together and Rhoarc had rushed to wage war against the invaders. Yet they fought tight together behind shields stabbing with sword and spear while the warriors with Rhoarc swung axes and swords with all their might as indiviuals. It was a rout. The legionnaire's despite being outweighed and outnumbered by Rhoarc and the other warriors of the north crushed the barbarians flinging themselves wildly against their shields.

In the end he lay in the snow of the battlefield bleeding from a spear wound to his side hoping for the honorable death of the defeated at least. The Thycans took that from him too. He awoke being carried into the pens of the great coliseum for a year of fighting for his life against all manner of beasts and gladiators, and now he was being sold like property again.

Here he was in a caged cart being transported through the streets of Imperial Thyce. He had listened and learned enough of the Thycan language to understand he was being bought by something called a Temple.

He could see it now as the cart crested up a hill. It was a large marble building not as big as the coliseum but far bigger than any building he'd ever seen before. As they got closer he was able to see more detail to it. Between the pillars holding it up were statues of nude men and women limbs tangled in confusing ways. Others were being tied down as other used canes and whips on them.

Being a slave from the gladiator pens he was no stranger to the way the evil Thycans can commit to other people. Yet even the coliseum didn't display such brutality so openly as this temple did. What sort of place were they taking him to?

The gates of the temple opened up and the cart carried him inside. The two Thycans driving the cart came around. Now was his chance. The gates weren't close yet and he could take out some vengeance on the two thycans opening the cage.

When the cage finally opened the man once named Rhoarc leapt out landing on both men. His huge fist slamming into the heads. He got up to race for the gate. There was a woman in loose robes standing before him. Where had she come from? He would've seen such a beautiful woman before.

He took a step to go around her, but her hand reached up and rested on the center of his chest below his flowing long beard. She spoke in his own language, and somehow the reasons for his actions, the anger, the fear, the outrage at how the people of Thyce treated him seemed so distant...so unimportant at the moment. He stood still and listened to this beautiful women in flowing robes speak to him getting lost in the words and tone of her voice.

 

[papillon24]

Name: Samara – in Latin Meaning Seed of the Elm Tree
Age: About 20.

Looks: She is Tall for a woman. Feminine features but strong. Long flowing black hair that rest at the top of her hip. Curvy, thin waist. About a size D cup. Full lips and green eyes like Emeralds.

IC

Samara is the high Priestess of the temple of the moon in the largest city in the land. She was raised for this position since the oracle had decreed it when she was five years old. The city officials had brought her here separating her from her family in order to raise her in the temple and prepare her for her duties.

When she was about ten years old, she found that she had some powers, not the ones the government was hoping for. She remembered the disappointment in their eyes when she told them. She found that her touch was calming and she could use that to influence outcomes in the government and in a few political outcomes. The officials were hoping for her to have destructive powers that could be used in battle

She also course use her spoken word in order to influence people, but for the most part she chose not to use that. She found that if made her feel guilty. Almost as if she were unclean.

At sixteen, she was made high priestess, leading prayers and guiding people in the ceremonies of the city. She was found to be desired by men and idolized by the woman and it laid a great deal of power on her shoulders. She held that position with beauty and grace. The temple had become one of the most revered and honored in the nation under her care.

That was about four years ago. In the eyes of the oracle it was time for her to take a mate. She did have a choice of how to do that. She could use her beauty and alure to coerce the man to fall in love with her or she could do it by force. Being of the holy order, she is not allowed to take a husband, but must seek a partner to spawn a child of the moon who will rule the land one day. That day was coming. The ceremony was this evening. Every year on this day she was to take a man on the alter in front of the city in hopes of producing a child. The last three years were unsuccessful, even with the extra month she would take them to her bed. She hoped this year would be different. The men were freed after the moth with her, but she desired a companion. With a child, the man would be allowed to stay with her.

She had sent her men out to find a new virile male for the ceremony tonight. And in that they were successful. She always would find those men who were strong, fighters. Champions in their own right. She wanted her Child to be strong in both body and spirit.

She watched as her tried to flee the her guards. She stood in light blue robes the color of the sky. She dark hair fell loose over her shoulders. She stared at him with her piercing emerald eyes. He fought as she approached. She wanted to see him up close before going to prepare for the ritual. As he turned she could see his handsome features as he saw her. She tried to move around her, almost delicately as if not to hurt her. She smiled at the idea and pressed her hand to his chest emoting a sense of calm and peace though her and into him.

“You will be calm in my presence. And behave for my guards.” she spoke sternly. Her voice like honey on a warm day

“Gaurds, take him to to the baths. Get him cleaned up, scrub him good and give him a shave. Bring him back to me, only his arms bound and the ceremonial loincloth. I like the spirit of this one. He will be a good mate.” Samara ran her hands along his face before turning to prepare for the ritual.

https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-8wIFPY8ynuw/TopqMcMT9dI/AAAAAAAACAA/eygi1vCviCA/Goddess%252520Nerrivik.jpg

 

[Veroe]

IC: The man once known as Rhoarc

When the cage finally opened the man once named Rhoarc leapt out landing on both men. His huge fist slamming into the heads. He got up to race for the gate. There was a woman in loose robes standing before him. Where had she come from? He would've seen such a beautiful woman before.

He took a step to go around her, but her hand reached up and rested on the center of his chest below his flowing long beard. She spoke in his own language, and somehow the reasons for his actions, the anger, the fear, the outrage at how the people of Thyce treated him seemed so distant...so unimportant at the moment. He stood still and listened to this beautiful women in flowing robes speak to him getting lost in the words and tone of her voice.

“You will be calm in my presence. And behave for my guards.” Came her voice like water and bread when his owner punished him without sustenance for a week for refusing to fight.

The woman had the greenest eyes he had ever seen someone have. There was a spark of spirit to them, that he liked. She also had the smoothest skin, and her hair was like dark black silk. She radiated a dark and sultry sexuality like the sun warmed the earth. Rhoarc's fingers itched to run his fingers through it. She knew his language too. How did this Thycan woman know how to speak as one of his people?

"Who are you," He asked gazing into those fascinating sharp and bright green eyes.

She didn't answer. Instead she stated to the two men he had hit as they placed rough hands on his arms, “Gaurds, take him to to the baths."

They began to pull him back away from the beautiful woman. He tried to struggle against them to stay close to her but he had trouble summoning the anger to add might to his movements. Her words had some kind of power over him.

Ladies in similar but not as sophisticated robes followed after them as she continued, "Get him cleaned up, scrub him good and give him a shave. Bring him back to me, only his arms bound and the ceremonial loincloth."

The women bowed their heads to her saying, "Yes revered sister."

"I like the spirit of this one." The woman said to him reaching out running her hand over his face, "He will be a good mate.”

They dragged him off then. He didn't fight them. Her words still had sway over his actions, and his mind was lost replaying the stroke of her hand over his cheek. Mate? That word was full of promises and potential pitfalls. Who was that woman?

He was brought to chamber with several pools fed by fountains of naked women holding gourds and pouring water into the pools. The gaurds tied his hands to a beam and use it to pull him into the pool.

He should be enraged at having his hands bound and being led around like he was chattel, shouldn't he?

The water was hot, and the pool was getting deeper. He should be afraid of drowning, shouldn't he? He didn't know how to swim. He now clung to the beam his toes barely touching the bottom.

The women began removing their robes. Nervously he snuck glances towards them as they did. He wondered what that woman looked like without her clothes. He'd seen Stenna, his wife in the northlands, naked once or twice, but nudity was considered a shameful thing. A proper woman did not parade around like these Thycan women did.

They dived into the pool and came up around him pressing their bodies against him. It wasn't decent. He tried to not notice, but they reached out and used sponges and some frothy soap against his body cleansing the dirt off of him. Hands ran through his hair and beard with another frothy fruity smelling soap. His manhood was getting hard. It wasn't proper for these women to touch him so.

The women were chatting to one another in Thycan. He had learned a good deal of their language since his capture, but they were speaking too fast to catch more than a few words. So it took him a few moments to realize they were talking amongst themselves about him. How big and strong he looked? How virile he would be? Whether their revered sister would tire of him as she did with all the others?

The beautiful woman? Others? He wanted to ask them for more information, but as one pulled a knife his words caught in his throat. They used it on his hair cutting it short. Then they flashed the knife to his beard. Among the people of the northlands a man grew his beard as a rite of passage. They braided it into long tails that reached as far down as a man's navel. It was all he had left. The knife began cutting it away as well.

"No," He shouted thrashing in the water to save this last piece of Rhoarc. The women backed away from him one holding the knife and the severed braid of his once proud beard. The guards were on him pulling him from the water.

He was pulled up and the women began to dry him off. It was indecent for them to see him naked and worse, erect. That was only Stenna's priviledge. The dressed him only a loincloth instead of the tunic he had worn here, and he struggled against the gaurds as the bound his arms behind him bent at the elbows and tied tight with rope.

They pulled and led him through their temple to a chamber back to her chambers. The sun had set and servants were alighting braziers throughout the temple as the stars shone down upon them.

He looked around waiting for her. He was ready this time. She would not overpower him again with her touch or her voice. He stood still barely clothed, seemingly at peace, but when she came upon him he would avenge his losses upon her and any other Thycan that tried to stop him.

 

[papillon24]

Samara made her way back to her chambers to prepare for the ceremony. Her flowing robes of day to day were to be changed out for those specially made for this evening and wear were laid out on a stone bench in the corner of her room. She let the robes fall from her body and stepped from them letting the warm air bathe her skin. Her temple sisters arrived with sweet smelling oils. She picked out one with the scent of roses and vanilla. It was one of her favorite scents and was rare in this part of the country. She stood as her sisters took time massaging the sweet oil into her skin, causing it to glow in the fading daylight.

“Thank you sisters.” She glanced at each one as they made themselves useful in her chambers. Some brought in jewels and silver pieces, others brought in wine

She held up the small pieces that made up her attire for the evening. A bra top made of fine silver and emeralds and the bottom made of fine silk and silver. A gauzy piece, showing everything below it draped around her hip.There was not much there but she was expected to be dressed in it when she took him as her own. It was to fuel the air. Sex would be had by many that evening all turned on by watching her.

OC: Like this but blue
http://th09.deviantart.net/fs14/PRE/f/2007/088/e/0/Boscage_Beauty_by_Adiene.jpg

IC:
She was ready for the evening.

“Sisters, please bring in wine and food. And tell the gaurds to bring him in. I wish to see him now that all the dirt has been scrubbed off of him and the smell of the slave pens have been washed away. I'll be on the balcony. Have him wait by the door.”

She had a feeling deep in her this was to be the year. This was to be the man, who at least for a month would share her bed and company. She was past the age most woman in her lands had children. But the oracle told her that it would happen in her own time. She stepped out on the balcony that overlooked the temple steps where the ritual would take place. She could already see the officials gathering, and thing being set up.

"He is here dear sister. You are lucky this year. Anika got a look at him in the baths and he will give you great pleasure”

“Thank you.” she smiled at the girl as she left her

Samara turned and made her way back into her chamber. The man standing proud and hands bound. She could see the thick muscles in his shoulders that the tunic had hidden earlier and the strength in his legs. She could see the hatred already in his eyes as she approached, and a beard still on his chin.

“Guards, I thought I said for him to be shaved.”

“We tried holy one. He fought and the girls were only able to get part of it off before we had to stop or she would have gotten hurt.”

She approached him and stood directly in front of his direct line of sight. Slowly she circled him noticing the hair on his chest and the small trail leading below the loincloth.

“So, you tried to hurt one of my sisters when they were trying to clean you for me.?” She came to stand in front of him. She was tall for a woman of her lands but this man was a giant among even the men here. She had to look up at him to catch his gaze. Her sense of calm radiated from her essence as she spoke, even without touching him. “We cant have that. You must be presentable.”
With a swift gesture she motioned for the guards to lay him on a stone bench in the center of the room and bind him there. This was beginning to be a trend year after year. The men of the north liked their hair. Here in the city it was only seen on the poor and low class. This man must be shaved.

“If you wont let them do it, then I'll just have to do it myself.”

 

[Veroe]

IC: The man once known as Rhoarc of the Nothlands

He looked around waiting for her. He was ready this time. She would not overpower him again with her touch or her voice. He stood still barely clothed, seemingly at peace, but when she came upon him he would avenge his losses upon her and any other Thycan that tried to stop him.

“Guards," He heard someone say from behind him, "I thought I said for him to be shaved.”

One of the gaurds apologized, “We tried holy one. He fought and the girls were only able to get part of it off before we had to stop or she would have gotten hurt.”

She came around in front of him, and his eyes widened. Her clothing, if you could call it that. The setting sun from the balcony cast a warm light gleaming off the blue gems and silver of her top while the fabric draped around her hips and sheer that he could see the length of her long legs from ankle to thigh. And he was only in a loincloth. It was wrong for a man and a woman who were strangers to be so bared to each other.

It was indecent. He tried to glare only into her eyes and keeping from the male instinct of perusing what she was so clearly displaying.

“So," She said looking up into his eyes meeting his anger with the calm certainty of a mountain against the frigid howl of the north wind, "You tried to hurt one of my sisters when they were trying to clean you for me.?”

He wasn't going to hurt the woman. Only Thycan scum assaulted women and children. He fresh wave of anger surged within him as the thought of Stenna's and their infant daughter's fate at the hands of the conquerors of his people.

"Among my people," He told her stonily, "Men do not shave themselves to look like children again." He should be trying to lash out at her, but for some reason he wasn't. He needed to counter the power of his anger she had over him. Was it her touch, her voice, or just being near him?

“We cant have that." She announced making a gesture with a raised hand, "You must be presentable.”

The hands of the two men grabbed his arms and he exclaimed as the hauled him backwards to quickly lash him to a stone bench beneath the nearby wall of the chamber. He struggled mightily but they had greater leverage and his arms were already tied behind his back. In the end he lay across the bench tied down so he could barely move an inch.

“If you wont let them do it," She told him calmly walking up to the bench. The sheer fabric moved and fluttered in the air with each step she made. "Then I'll just have to do it myself.”

"Don't," He snarled to her desperate to hang onto this. His beard was the last thing he had of his homeland. If she took that away from him...it was unthinkable.

 

[papillon24]

She smiled at his last request. It was so simple, yet so powerful. He was a fine catch and she could tell this was going to be a challenge. She would have to take this one by force.
She sauntered over to the bunch in which the man was bound to. The guards did a fine job making sure he was immobile so she would be hurt. A bowl of warm water was set out next to him and a bar of almond scented soap floated within it. She took the towel from the hands of one of her sisters as she passed, and a blade with a razor sharp edge from another and knelt down next to the bench.

“I suggest you hold still,” she held a palm to his chest, sending a small rush of warmth and calm into him. “I dont want you with any fresh cuts.”

With a gently but deliberate movement she took some lather from the bowl and placed it on his face. The sweet smell of the soap filled her nose and she smiled. Next the blade. She brought it to his face, keeping her calm influence on him without controlling him. She worked quickly removing the rest of his beard, one gentle skilled stroke after another until his face and neck were smooth.

“Sisters, please finish cleaning his face. Add come calming oils and massage him. There are other places that need hair removed.”

With gentle pressure she ran her hand down his chest though the patch of hair that lay there. With another scoop, she lathered up his chest and proceeded with the removal of the patch of hair all the way down to the edge of the loincloth. She sat back and admired the smooth surface that was strung taught next to her. The valleys and peaks of the the muscle that was not exposed. The ridges of the scars from wars and the arena.

“You are a beautiful man, and will give me beautiful children.” She hummed to herself as she stroked the smooth surface she had just created. “Just one more place. I promise."

Slowly she lifted the edge of the loincloth. The stark white against his sun darkened skin was impressive. She rolled it up, exposing him. Again, quickly she lathered him around his manhood and a little along the shaft. With grace and dexterity she took her time in the removal of all the hair till he was smooth. She watched as her touch started to make him harden. She cleaned him with the soft towel and massaged in some oil to soothe any irritation, before standing back and admiring her work.

Strung out on the bench he shone with a slight sheen of oil. His muscles were defined. She could feel the heat between her legs grow. That was a good sign, but she would have to wait for that.

“Now, you are presentable.” she turned to her guards. “You may untie him. But bind his arms again and keep him on his knees.”

 

[Veroe]

IC: The man once named Rhoarc of the Northlands

"Don't," He snarled to her desperate to hang onto this. His beard was the last thing he had of his homeland. If she took that away from him...it was unthinkable.

She only smiled at his request sauntering over to him. He was tied down to the stone bench like a swine for the slaughter. He struggled but he was held fast by the ropes affording him no leverage in which to use his great strength.

The woman knelt down beside him with a bowl and a knife.

A knife?!

"No," He struggled again pulling at his binds with a renewed strength born of desperation.

“I suggest you hold still,” She said placing a hand over his hammering heart.

A warmth suffused him and the panic and outrage he could not keep ahold of for some reason. Just what sort of power did she have over him?

“I dont want you with any fresh cuts.” She continued smearing frothy almond-smelling lather over the whiskers of his face and chin. The knife soon followed shearing away a life's worth of beard from him.

He wanted to be angry and humiliated, but instead he lay there accepting the whole ordeal. why? What was it about this woman? Was she some sort of enchantress that laid some sort of spell upon him? It wasn't natural, that was for certain.

His eyes focused upon hers as emerald eyes focused intently over what she was doing, but there was something else. Sweeping every inch every contour of his body as she proceded with an intent and appreciative gaze. He had loved Stenna dearly, but his wife had never looked at him as this woman did now...it was arousing.

He should feel shame. It was not proper to be aroused by someone who was not his wife and an evil Thycan as well.

Finished with his face she lowered to the mat of hair on his chest trailing down his stomach. His heartbeat began to beat faster but not from panic or anger. His stiffening erection was making an tent under the loincloth he wore. This was her. She was doing this to him. How did she effect him this way?

He didn't even feel the other women rubbing oil into his skin in her wake. They all blended into her, what she was doing to him.

Each sweep of the knife reminded him of what it must feel like from the scrape of her nails and it was sending shockwaves straight to his burgeoning cock. Soon his chest was devoid of any more hair Bearing every scar from every wound he had earned fighting for his life in the pits of the arena.

“You are a beautiful man, and will give me beautiful children.” He heard her say as he felt her fingers stroke over the smooth skin she had just bared from the center of his chest down to just above the edge of the loincloth.

Children?! Did she want to marry him? He was already married, though the war against the Thycan legions cut it tragically short. the thoughts she was provoking in him was not proper for a married man of the north to have. It must be the spell she had put upon him.

“Just one more place. I promise." She lifted his loincloth and his eyes widened as she gazed upon the proof of the power she had over him. She began to lather and shave him down there as well, and he thought it was stimulating on his face and chest. This was like those but a hundred times more.

Even then he stayed still. Probably a good thing considering where that knife was.

She raised back up and looked down upon his shaved body with the satisfaction of a carver looking upon her woodcutting.

“Now, you are presentable.” She announced then turning to the guards, “You may untie him. But bind his arms again and keep him on his knees.”

The ropes loosened and he was hauled up and it was the first time he could take stock of himself. Cool air wafted over his hairless body now as the guards bound his arms behind him once more. He was like a baby again smooth and helpless.

They hauled him over to stand before her and he glared to her. "Who are you? What do you want of me?"

 

[papillon24]

"Who are you? What do you want of me?"

She took her time watching him as he watched her. His strong natured intrigued her. She felt as if she needed to know more, but she wanted him as well. A soft hand graced over his bare shoulders as she passed by. Something about him she needed to touch.

“That is a question to be answered over a meal.” She clapped her hands twice. The sound echoed though the room with a sharp pitch as servants scurried around setting up. “Its been a long day and I'm sure you were not fed or if so, not fed well.”

The young ones brought out a table, not much longer than the height of a man. The thud of the wood against the stone flooring. Samara smiled as the young ones went about their work. Many of them had no homes before being brought to the temple. They were cast aways in society. Many had gone days without food. Here they had a purpose, and a reason. For now they were hers to guard and to guide along their paths into the world. The temple took in all that they could. They were fed and given jobs. Some even went to school and many of the girls would be trained as her sisters if the oracle said it would be so.

A young girl slid up next to her and wrapped her arms around her. A smile as bright as the moon it self shone up at her. Samara remembered the day she came to the temple three years ago. She had been a skinny thing roaming the streets outside the temple garden looking for scraps and a place to shelter. Samara had found her herself and took a personal interest in the young girl. The sparkle in her eyes shone so bright even in the darkest of times.

“Yes Aurelia?” She beamed down a smile that could melt the hardest of hearts at the smiling girl.

“Priestess Samara, I'm so happy for you on this day. He is so handsome, and strong” Samara wrapped her arms around her, stroking her hair gently.

“Thank you, my dear. That means the world to me coming from you.” she took a step back looking in the girls eyes. “I can not wait till next year upon your fourteenth year when you officially become a sister of the moon. Although I already consider you one. Now, I need you to organize the feast to come in, can you do that for me?”

The girl nodded and skipped away.

Food began to fill the table. Lamb dressed in mint and honey, dates, fresh fruit, dried figs, sweet breads filled with currants and raisins. Jugs of wine were brought out. Every inch of the table was filled to the brim. She took a seat at one end and had a chair placed next to her. She wanted to dine with him as was her ritual every year on this day. A sense of normal and a chance to understand the man that would warm her bed for the next moon cycle

“Guards, Untie him. Keep an eye on him, but let him sit and eat.” she gestured to the empty chair beside her.

The guards untied him and brought him over to the chair.

"Please, eat, drink. You must be famished." She picked up guilded goblet filled with sweet wine and brought it to her lips. Another one of the young ones brought one over and stood waiting for him to take the goblet.

 

[Veroe]

IC: The man once named Rhoarc of the Northlands

They hauled him over to stand before her and he glared to her. "Who are you? What do you want of me?"

She stood still not answering, but instead looking him up and down. He blushed at the regard she gave his body, the scar from the Thycan Legionnaire's gladius to his side that had felled him on the battlefield. The scars crossing diagonally down his back from the lash of the master of the arena's Ludis when he tried to fight his way out of the Colliseum. The three parallel scratches from the last of six tigers he had to defeat in his last match on his thigh. His tall and muscular frame gleaming clean and oiled, shaved like a sheep for summer for her pleasure.

He in turn looked her over. She was tall, taller than any Thycan woman he had seen in the empire, but she still only reached his chin in comparison. Yet she seemed to tower over him somehow. He was bigger, and stronger, and clearly a mighty warrior. His mere presence should intimidate her, but she held herself as if unconcerned about his strength or his temper.

He looked at her in her indecent outfit and how well she fit into it. Her breasts were much larger than Stenna's small but sensitive palmfulls. Those would be too much even for his large hands, but he'd never been one to ogle a woman's breasts. A woman's legs however held a seductive power over him, and this woman had a truly enchantinghad a pair that seemed to rise up from the floor forever. It was not proper for him to think so, but he could imagine running his fingers up over the outside of them, all the way up over calves knees thighs to hips...

“That is a question to be answered over a meal.” She interrupted his indecent thoughts and his blush deepened. He tried to hide it, but it was rather apparent where his imagination had been. He tried to tell himself it was because he had not lain with a woman since that night before he left Stenna for war over a year ago. He tried to tell himself it was because this woman was some sort of sorceress that had laid some sort of enchantment upon him. “Its been a long day and I'm sure you were not fed or if so, not fed well.”

He blinked at her words, "No, I have had little but gruel and maggot-infested bread since being dragged in chains here to Imperial Thyce."

Children in robes simpler than the women directing them brought out a large table, setting it down in her chambers. They began bringing in large heaping plates and bowls of fine-looking food. His stomach grumbled at the smell.

He turned from the delicious food to watch the woman with a little girl. He stayed looking at them as they embraced and spoke. It reminded him of the fact that he had a baby girl and he did not know whether she was alive or dead, and he probably would never know. He'd never watch his daughter grow up he'd hand the marriage wreath to present to her husband. He'd never embrace her like the woman and this young one were now. He'd never have such moments with his daughter. He was robbed of them.

Moodily he watched her sit down at the table of food. He was surprised to find them set a second chair beside hers. She glanced to him and then announced, “Guards, Untie him. Keep an eye on him, but let him sit and eat.”

They stepped up to him and began unbinding his arms. At her gesture he warily took the second seat.

"Please, eat, drink. You must be famished." She said raising a jewel encrusted goblet up to her lips. He watched her lips pucker and her throat move hypnotically as she drank from the wine inside.

He turned to find a child holding a similar goblet of wine for him. He took it from her brusquely and upended it over his mouth draining the whole goblet. Wine spilled over his lips rolling down his chin as he drank. He handed the young girl the empty goblet and began tearing into the food. Salted meats, boiled potatoes, fresh baked bread. He ignored the ridiculous tiny pitchfork and ladle Thycans used set around his plate. Instead he tore and picked with hands and fingers, like the way of dining they did in the North. He lifted the whole bowl of fish broth to his lips and guzzling it down like he did the wine before. Setting it down he belched loudly.

He turned to regard her stonily and accused, "Why are you avoiding answering me, woman? You still haven't told me who you are, and what you want of me."

 

[papillon24]

She watched him eat with gusto. The men from the north knew nothing of the manners of the city. But his passion for the food showed that he had been mistreated on the way here. Samara thought back of the last ceremony of the moon goddess when she had taken her past mate. Cadeyrin was a fine warrior. From the Isles in the far north if she remembered correctly. Not as tall as the man who sat in front of her, bust strong and powerful. Strong mind as well. His emotions would get the better of him, which made it easier for her influence to calm him and make him extremely compliant for the time he had been here. The promise of sharing a bed with a woman every night also kept him co-operative. The time was fun, and full of passion and lust, but no child was produced and he was sent back out into the world. Cadeyrn had not wanted to leave. As it had been with the one before that.

"Why are you avoiding answering me, woman? You still haven't told me who you are, and what you want of me." His words were harsh and cold and she could feel the hate and confusion in his voice. And she could sense it in his soul. She did like his fearlessness.

Samara nodded to the child and she filled it full once more and handed it out to him. Samara took her time, taking another drink from her goblet letting the sweetness of the wine run down her throat. She could feel the warmth in her body as she let her eyes close, savoring the richness.

"You will soften your tone with me and clean your hands and face. I do not wish to have to have you bathed again" She spoke softly, but confident and powerful. Her voice oozed seduction, like rich honey straight from the hive. A young girl brought over a bowl of water and a cloth and set it next to him
"I am Samara the High Priestess of Temple of the Moon Goddess, placed by the oracle." She took her time with the next bit. She set her goblet down on the table in front of her and leaned forward, one arm resting on the table beneath her bosom and the other under her chin. Her gaze pierced directly into his eyes, searching for him, the true him within the pain.

" Do you see all of this? Out there?" She gestured out the window to the torches and fire pits being lit out in the courtyard. A marble dais had been set out at the top of the stairs and surrounded by white flowers. Incense was burning, and filling the air with a scent of amber and frankincense. Soft fabric lined the stairs and was wrapped around the giant pillars. "That is all for you. You are to be my mate for this evening and the next moon cycle. "

"Now, I answered you. Tell me your name. And your story and I might tell you more."

 

[Veroe]

: The man once named Rhoarc of the Northlands

He turned to regard her stonily and accused, "Why are you avoiding answering me, woman? You still haven't told me who you are, and what you want of me."

The woman didn't answer. It was an effort to drive home the fact that she was not intimidated by or beholding to him. Instead she nodded to the young girl that held his empty goblet, and at that nod the little filled it back up with a pitcher of more wine for him. He ignored it glaring at the woman. Something about her just rubbed him the wrong way, had ever since he met her, and it wasn't just the fact that she thought she owned him.

"You will soften your tone with me and clean your hands and face," She stated at last very simply but firmly, "I do not wish to have to have you bathed again."

Her voice felt like quicksand drawing him in deeper and deeper into improper avenues of thought about her. That was one of the things he had issue with this woman. She was a Thycan, not Stenna, and thought she owned him like he were nothing but chattel. He should despise her not be considering what she would feel like as his manhood plumbed the well of her womanhood. No, she was the enemy. She was not his wife. It was not proper to have such thoughts about her.

In response to her words however he reached for his beard to dab at the corners of his mouth, but then remembered it was gone. Instead one of the children held out a length of cloth for him to take. He took it examining it closely. Such a rich, smooth, and fine fabric, and these Thycans waste it to clean themselves with.

"I am Samara, the High Priestess of Temple of the Moon Goddess, placed by the oracle." She asserted.

"Samara," He repeated rolling the sound of her name over his tongue.

She leaned forward one arm on the table and under the abundance of her breasts barely contained within the confines of her top drawing his eyes like flies to honey. They were unreal in size and shape, they were truly the breasts of a goddess Her other hand supported her chin as she leaned forward peering at him.

" Do you see all of this? Out there?" She gestured out the window to the torches and fire pits being lit out in the courtyard. A marble dais had been set out at the top of the stairs and surrounded by white flowers. Incense was burning, and filling the air with a scent of amber and frankincense. Soft fabric lined the stairs and was wrapped around the giant pillars. "That is all for you."

"For me," He repeated looking out the window in the courtyard below as priestesses and servants scurried around setting fires, laying down pillows and blankets, spreading strings of moonflowers across. Stocks and posts were also being placed scattered throughout the grounds. He knew what those were for. When he was a gladiator he had spent a lot of time being chained and beaten to those. "Why?"

"You are to be my mate for this evening and the next moon cycle."

He turned to her in shock, his blood heating in his veins, and heart racing at her words. "That's impossible. I have a wife and daughter, and you are a Thycan."

Instead of responding to his denial she acted as if his words had gone unsaid, or worse that what his denial hardly mattered to her. "Now, I answered you. Tell me your name. And your story and I might tell you more."

"My name," He turned away from her, "In the arena I was called Antarsus, but that is not my name. My name was ripped from me when I was dragged to this city in chains as spoils of war."

 

[papillon24]

She smiled as she watched his reaction, and listened to him. There was anger still in his voice. He was strong and strong willed. She like that. Many men who sought her out would give in too easily for her liking. Desperate for one night with her. Many were too willing to give in to her influence. She had slaves for that. She wanted more. A challenge.

And already a child. He was one with proof of fertility. She hoped he would have the same results with her. She hoped that soon her belly would swell with child and she would have a companion to stand by her side or kneel at her feet for longer than the cycle of the moon.

Samara sat back once more taking her goblet in her hand and lifting it to her lips and quenching her new found thirst. She wanted this man in front of her. His rebellion drew her in and she knew that this was the one, this was her year to fulfill the destiny laid upon her so many years ago. The ruby liquid slid down her throat and brought a half curved smile to her lips.

“Antarsus is a strong name, but I wish to call you by your true name.” Gently she stood and placed her goblet down on the table. The night was beginning to set in as the glow from the torches burned brighter against the dimming light of the evening. She let her hand wander along his back as she passed him, savoring the feel of his strength and wandered over to the nearby window. her hips swayed like a palm tree in a gentle breeze with every step of her bare feet against the marble. The night was warm and the skies were clear. The stars were aligning in the heavens above.

Down by the dais, the statue of the moon goddess stood tall. The white alabaster shone with the reflection of the braziers providing the light. She sighed as she examined every feature of her beloved goddess. The caring eyes of a mother almost glowed with emotion letting the twenty foot stature almost come to life. Slender gentle arms, both graceful and strong. Protective of her children. Full swollen belly to bless the fertility of the seasons. She was the protector, mother of the night, ruler of the tides. She stayed closer than the sun and shone brighter at times.

Samara knew this deity well. Many years of paying homage to the goddess in complete devotion. And the power of the goddess was imbued in the stature. She knew her powers of persuasion would cease at the cresting of the new moon, the times when she was to take her mate. Her influence was not be used for this purpose. She would be taking him by force till her power would return at her climax. Both a blessing and a curse. Especially with this one.

“Come over here and kneel next to me. Come see the goddess in her glory.”

 

[Veroe]

IC: The man once named Rhoarc of the Northlands

"My name," He turned away from her, "In the arena I was called Antarsus, but that is not my name. My name was ripped from me when I was dragged to this city in chains as spoils of war."

He was looking at the young girl offering him the refilled goblet of the rich red Thycan wine. He wasn't thirsty anymore. He wasn't hungry either, not for Thycan food.

“Antarsus is a strong name," He heard her say beside him, "but I wish to call you by your true name.”

"As I said," He asserted with a hefty dose of accusation to his tone, "Everything of me was stripped from me. Now I'm just an object, a possession to be sold and traded and discarded when no longer of use. That is what you want of me, is it not?"

The motion of her rising up from the table caught his attention. She put down her own goblet and he watched her walk over to the balcony if one could call it walking. Her hips swayed the meat of her rump swaying back and forth hypnotically with each step. The sheer fabric that hung down between her legs doing little to hide her modesty-if she had any to begin with. It wasn't decent. It, she...Samara, was not right.

A glance to the girl holding his goblet put him off guard. She watched Samara with eyes filled with adoration. He felt that this young girl aspired to be exactly like this woman who owned him like he was nothing but chattel.

This whole land and all these people were mad, touched by the great sky god the shaman of his village would call it.

Samara had reached the balcony looking down at the braziers and tables below them.

“Come over here and kneel next to me," She stated with an air of command to her that would have rivaled even old Great Chief Sturndal's back in the Northlands, "Come see the goddess in her glory.”

He rose to his feet eyeing the two guards warily. He set himself as he said the one word burning in his heart, "No."

The guards moved to make him obey, but he was ready for them now. They were large for Thycans but he towered over them by half a foot or more, and massed four or five stone more than both of them. No wonder they set about attacking every land their old decrepit emperor set his sights upon. They were pitiable, needing to conquer and rape and enslave others to prove their manhood to themselves.

He was the best wrestler in all the Northlands. He had done it since he had been a boy. He threw one of them over the table spilling the food off it and across the floor. The other was shoved back into the young girl holding the goblet knocking her sprawled onto the floor a pool of red spreading out around her head.

No, he hadn't intended to hurt the child...he wasn't a monster like these people were. He ripped the body of the guard and lifted the girl cradled in his arms. He'd never hold his own daughter in his arms like this...

The pool of red liquid turned out not to be blood. The girl seemed shaken but unhurt. The liquid apparently was the wine from the goblet she had spilled when she had fallen backwards onto the floor.

He looked up to Samara, "I will not kneel, but I will stand."

 

[papillon24]

"No." The strength in his resolve startled her from her thoughts. She turned from the window in which she leaned against.

Samara watched as he moved. The agility and strength he had over the assigned guards was impressive. With almost one fluid motion he had managed to beat her guards. The contents of the table were spread across the room. She could see why he had won so many times in the arena. She could see why he had been selected for her.

She watched as the young one holding the goblet fell to the floor. She gasp reaching out even though there were no way to catch her from where she stood.

With strong arms he picked up the girl in his arms, cradling her gently. Samara ran over standing over them. She feared the worse. “Is she all right” the worry rushed though her veins.

The girl opened her eyes, more scared than hurt. The ordeal, shocking her.

“I will not kneel, but I will stand."

“Give her to me” she could not control the worry in her words. Samara knelt down and she held out her arms and the girl reached up and wrapped her arms around Samara. She rubbed on the girls back, trying to calm her. “hush, it will be fine.” she pulled back looking the girl in they eyes. Small smile crept in at the corner of her mouth. “Run along. You have the night off. I'll see you in the morning.”

She stood and shooed the girl off. The workers began to creep in and clean up the mess around them.

“Go, This can wait till later.”

A glare from her grazed over the man. She reached out one hand, grabbing his arm.

Her anger flared at the possible damage he could have caused. She pushed her full influence into him. Not one of peace and kindness but she influenced his control. It was strong in her anger and frustration. She felt it reach into his body and his mind.

“This cannot. Have more guards and rope brought in. Its time to get him ready.” She felt her anger grow as she stared him down. “Now Kneel. And gaurds, come and bind him so he will not hurt another” She commanded in a haze of anger.

She watched as the power drained him of his control and his body followed her command as he fell to his knees before her.

 

[Veroe]

IC: The man once named Rhoarc of the Northlands

The pool of red liquid turned out not to be blood. The girl seemed shaken but unhurt. The liquid apparently was the wine from the goblet she had spilled when she had fallen backwards onto the floor.

“Is she all right?"

He looked down to the girl. She opened her eyes and focused onto him. They widened in fear as she turned them away until they latched onto Samara standing above them both.

He looked up to Samara, "I will not kneel, but I will stand."

“Give her to me,” She ordered a tint of worry shading her voice.

He looked back down to the girl. She was still but trembling like a rabbit in a wolf's jaws. That was how she saw him. An enraged and dangerous animal that should be in chains, not a man. That was what these Thycans had turned him into.

He looked back up to Samara who despite the small tremor of worry he had heard in her voice betrayed no lack of confidence as she waited for him to comply to her command. He wanted to defy her out of spite, but the girl and that tint to her tone made his anger cool.

The child immediately rushed to her wrapping her small arms around her with a whimper threatening to erupt into tears.

“hush, it will be fine," She told the child, “Run along. You have the night off. I'll see you in the morning.”

Reassured by Samara's words the child rushed off. He rose back up to his feet as Samara dismissed the servants that were attempting to clean up the mess he had made.

Then suddenly she reached out seized him by the wrist. Her eyes bore into his as they contested wills between glares. She was trying to bewitch him to obey her like a docile animal to do her bidding and be forgotten afterwards. He tried to hold onto the anger and the outrage once again as she somehow made them too slippery to keep a hold of for long. Continued resistance against her seemed more and more pointless under the force of her will in those eyes.

He was being enchanted. He had been ever since she first laid hands upon him, making him hers, her property, her creature-bent to her will.

“This cannot. Have more guards and rope brought in." She announced to the two gaurds he had subdued moments before. He should feel anger at the thought of being tied up like a draft animal again, but he felt only numbness standing there staring into those brilliant green eyes. "Its time to get him ready.”

"Ready for what," He asked distantly like each word was a thousand leagues to cross to here and now.

“Now Kneel." She said with a twinge of anger of her own, "And gaurds, come and bind him so he will not hurt another.”

His legs were bending to kneel as she had bidden him. He shouldn't be giving in so easily. Yet he couldn't summon the rage to counter whatever magic she was using on him. He lowered down to the floor. His knee planted onto the stone floor and the other soon would join it kneeling before him.

No, he would not submit so easily.

He looked up to her without emotion. His will surging back against hers. "No." He began to rise up again to wrestle his willpower against her.

 

[papillon24]

She watched him struggle though the power she had over him. She was strong in her anger but with his rationality peeking though, he was able to start resisting. Her distraction was enough to give ten guards the time to come in. Quickly and with great skill they pinned him to the ground. Even his muscled frame and quickness were no match for them. Two guards were no problem, bu the ten were efficient at their jobs.

Withing moment they had him bound on is knees. His arms pinned behind him with his palms touching the opposite elbow. His kneed bound with one rope and his ankles bound with another. They set him in front of her.

One of the guards approached her

“Priestess, is there anything else I can do for you.” He bowed his head slightly and looked at her with an adoring gaze.

“Nechtan, thank you. Please stay.”she ran her hand adoringly along the mans arm.

“Antarsus, this is Nechtan. Three sun cycles ago, he was in the place you are now. My first mate of my mating cycle. As you can see, he did not give me and offspring. He was as stubborn as you, but came around in the end after spending a month in my bed. I gave him the option to leave this place for his home once the month was over. But he decided to stay. He now is one of my most loyal guards.”

She turned from both of them. One of the young ones had brought out a vial. She picked it up and gently brought it over to where the bound man now knelt before her.

“Nechtan, please hold him and open his mouth.” Nechtan with his strong hands pried his jaw open and she poured the honey flavored elixir into his mouth. “This, Antarsus, should become effective by the time of the ceremony. It will make sure your manhood stands proud and willing, and be able to stay that way even if you release your seed.” She reach down caressing the side of his face. She wondered what went though his head. Why he had all the anger. Wonderful things were in store for him this night and the next moon cycle

“Nechtan, please take him to the dais and bind him to it as the ceremony decrees, WE will be starting soon as the goddess is rising to her throne in the sky. Answer any questions he has and tell him of your story.

She turned as the man was taken from her chambers.

 

[Veroe]

IC: The man once named Rhoarc of the Northlands

He looked up to her without emotion. His will surging back against hers. "No." He began to rise up again to wrestle his willpower against her.

Ten guards swarmed him then. The two he had fought off before were especially rough, but he fought them valiantly. Yet there were so many hands with determined faces pulling his arms behind his back and wrapping rope tight around his wrists. His arms and hands were pulled tight against the middle of his back giving him no mobility in his arms. They didn't stop there however. They then began tying rope around his knees and ankles. The end he was trussed up like a pig for the roasting fire.

In the end he was lifted up to kneel before her. The whole time he glared at Samara, his owner, his enemy.

One of the gaurds rose up from tying him and approached her with a reverential nod. “Priestess, is there anything else I can do for you.”

“Nechtan, thank you," She said running an affectionate hand over the guard's arm, "Please stay.”

He narrowed his eyes at this man. Why did seeing that make him angry? This Samara was his enemy. Why should he care whom she showed affection towards?

“Antarsus, this is Nechtan." She said gesturing his attention to the blonde guard, "Three sun cycles ago, he was in the place you are now."

"And what place is that exactly," He asked. She still hadn't specified precisely what she intended him to do for her.

"My first mate of my mating cycle," She continued.

"Mating cycle," He asked glaring at the man...what was this? Jealousy? No, he had no interest in Samara, no matter how attractive she was. He had a wife. Her name was Stenna. She was a good woman of the Northlands. She and the daughter she had given him may be among the honored dead for all he knew, but he would by Krohl, the great skygod, as his witness would stay true to her spirit by keeping his vows to her. No matter how much this...woman...bewitched him.

"As you can see, he did not give me and offspring," She stated, and perhaps he had mistaken but he might have seen a flicker of great shame in the eyes of this Nechtan at those words. "He was as stubborn as you, but came around in the end after spending a month in my bed."

He looked up at her awash in a mix of emotions he didn't really understand; hatred, jealousy, envy, fear. Too many to sort through at the information being told to him.

" I gave him the option to leave this place for his home once the month was over. But he decided to stay." She explained, "He now is one of my most loyal guards.”

She stepped away as he narrowed his glare on Nechtan. The blonde only returned a disinterested gaze. Then she returned carrying a thick syrupy golden liquid in a glass vial in hand.

"What is that," He asked, "You're not giving me that."

“Nechtan, please hold him and open his mouth.” She commanded.

Nechtan stepped up to him and bent down. He fought with his hands as they pried open his mouth. Samara then uncorked the vial and poured the viscous fluid down his mouth. Nechtan then clamped a hand over his mouth until he was forced to swallow it down. It tasted awful like soured mead. He was left coughing and trying to retch it back up in vain.

“This, Antarsus," Samara continued, "Should become effective by the time of the ceremony. It will make sure your manhood stands proud and willing, and be able to stay that way even if you release your seed.”

He looked up at her eyes wide in disbelief. He couldn't possibly have heard what he thought he had. What she was suggesting was not proper for a married man of the north. Yet he could escape the feeling of excitement...no...desire...it must be that vile liquid she had given him...yes, that's what must be making him halfway anticipate whatever was involved in this obscene ritual of hers tonight.

This was increased when she reached down and ran her hand over his cheek while peering into his eyes. “Nechtan," She said without turning her gaze from his, "Please take him to the dais and bind him to it as the ceremony decrees, WE will be starting soon as the goddess is rising to her throne in the sky. Answer any questions he has and tell him of your story."
He watched her turn and leave him then, and to his confused shame he couldn't say he wanted Samara to stay gone. That liquid was probably to blame for that too.
-------------------X

IC: Nechtan

Nechtan and six more of the guards carried the bound new boy downstairs to the courtyard as servants lower priestesses and acolytes scurried to set up the final decorations for the upcoming ceremony.

The new boy was lifted up to the dais before the Thycan Moon Goddess' statue. They began to untie the ropes using poles with leashes at the end to keep the big annoying northerner from making anymore trouble for them.

This Antarsus stinking swine then asked him, "You've done this before?"

Nechtan looked down at him with a mask of friendly compliance he had learned to wear so well these last years.. "Yes my friend I have."

"So you can tell me what will happen."

"Yes, I could." Memories swarmed over him of her...Samara...his beautiful priestess.

"She said you would answer my questions."

His mask slipped for but a moment before he recovered. "You can expect the first night of heaven. You will fight against it." Because you are a fool. "But just as her cycle is up she will discard you as unworthy of her."

The dog looked up at him and actually smirked, "As you proved to be as well."
The urge to smack that smirk off his face was nearly insurmountable, but Nechtan did overcome it. "So it would seem."

"She will truly grant me freedom when she is done with me?"

"Yes," He answered, but he didn't add that he would not.

Nechtan had his men pry open his mouth and he poured another liquid, this one tasting sour and very bitter. Back in the isles of the north his father Nechtan's father had been his tribe's medicine man. He had learned herbs and tonics and poisons. Even here in the South of Imperial Thyce the weed called forkroot by his people could be found. Funny thing about the liquid one could get from the boiled pulp of forkroot. Without effecting his performance it made certain a man's seed would never take root in a woman's womb.

He had been famed across the isles before the Thycan legions had dragged him into slavery here. No mere woman could resist him, none had even given him a challenge, except Samara-his Samara. When he could not fill her with child she discarded him as if he was the one unworthy of her.

So he stayed, played the smiling loyal reliable Nechtan for her, and making certain no man she tried after him with would give her an heir until she returned to him. And after a month or so he'd grow tired of her unworthiness. As for the men...well, he made certain they all left her and disapeared-permanently. This Antarsus looked to be no different. By the way he struggled against Samara's rule Nechtan did not think he would last even a week before she grew tired of his constant resistance. And then for the crime of touching Nechtan's woman he would die too.

They pulled Antarsus ontop of the dais and tied him down facing up between the outstretched arms of the goddess where the moon would peek through the clouds down between them and upon him as she claims him as her newest mate. It was nearly time for the ceremony. Nechtan removed the man's loin cloth and revealed that the aphrodisiac Samara had given him had indeed taken hold of his manhood. It was quite impressive in size.

He smiled to the swine, "You will please the honored one greatly tonight."

When he was discarded he'd cut the huge fucking prick off and shove it down his throat before burying his body.

 

[papillon24]

Samara watched as the man was dragged from her chambers. The strength at which he had fought her men was impressive by all means. It would take a lot to train him. But tonight there was more that had to be done. The servants came in as she watched out the window as the goddess began to take her highest seat of the year. She was bright and full of light filling the sky with crystalline strands of light. Behind her, she could hear the hushed whispers from the servants as they began to clean up the mess of food and wine from the floor. It was such a waste. Most days the extra food from the tables within the temple went to the poor. The children and elderly that lined the streets. All the misfits that they were not able to take in. The least they could do was to feed them. Tonights feast would have been a treat. All the extra meat and fish would have made a lot of people happy.

She sighed as she turned her thoughts back to the ceremony. The crowds were beginning to gather in the square at the base of the temple steps. Men and women alike gathered. It was believed that by witnessing the high priestess take her mate, would grant them fertility as well. She know may would come to say a blessing and receive one before going home to try to create life as well. Some even would start there in the courtyard and continue though the night.

“Its time my priestesses, he is ready for you and the goddes is rising fast in the sky” A voice came from behind her. She turned to find Nechtan standing in the doorway. His loyalty and undying adoration always made her smile.

“Thank you.” She made her way past him letting her hand trail along his chest. With him she had always felt that the best way to thank him was with a simple touch. Even if it was one without influence.

It took he no time to make it to the open courtyard where the ceremony took place. The statue of the goddess stood tall and proud. Her arms reaching to the sky. Her mate, now bound to the marble dais, his manhood stood hard and proud, ready for her. She made her way to the top of the stairs where she stood to address the people who had gathered in the courtyard below. She estimated over a thousand came to watch this year. She stood, looking down at them as they all raised their hands in the same gesture as the goddess.

“Dear people of our proud and blessed land. Tonight is one of celebration. I pray for us to have a new blessed child soon to help lead out people into prosperity and to govern the mighty nations that surround us. “ Her voice flowed like velvet across the flower scented sky. She raised her hands in prayer. “Goddess of the moon, I pray that we please you in this act. The blessing you have bestowed upon us are gratefully received. I offer up my influence this one night to you so I may take my mate without it.”

The wind picked up and she could feel her influence leave her body. For a moment she felt alone without it. This night was on her. The oracle had decreed that she must take him with no power.

With that she turned and approached the dais. She admired the man bound to it. The muscles in his body shone in the light of the moon. Each ridge and scar was on display for her.

Two attendants approached and released her top, exposing her full breast. They ten let the satiny fabrics of her bottoms fall away from her revealing to her mate her perfectly shaved form. She could feel the heat and wetness begin to form as she thought about the next part. Her attendants helped her step up onto the dais as she placed one leg on either side of his torso. Her hands fell on his strong chest as she balanced herself. She could feel the heat of him again the inside of her thighs.

The crowd was silent, except a quiet chanting from her sisters as they bowed their head in blessings. After tonight, a few of them would be allowed to mate with a man of their choosing for a week if they so desired.

Samara stared down at the man bound below her. She maneuvered his manhood to sit at her opening, which was ready. She could feel he was thick and long. Larger than any of her other mates, and she wondered if he would even fit. Slowly she ground her hips gently. A moan escaped her lips as the head of him slipped within her. She held him there as the crowed cheered at their joining.

She stayed there adjusting her tightness, trying to relax around the girth. A smile crossed her lip. she looked up inot the face of the goddess staue to see the full light of the moon shining down, illuminating the both of them in their union, before slowly sliding down on the rest of his length

 

[Veroe]

IC: The man once named Rhoarc of the Northlands

The sky above him was dark with clouds drifting lazily overhead. Between them shined down a host of stars all foreign to his eyes. Between her arms shone down on them the full moon. His people had called it the silver eye of the sky god, Krohl, closed shut now to slide open until the moon was full and Krohl, the judge, would see the enemies of his children and punish them.

"Krohl, help me," He prayed for not the first night since being dragged into Imperial slavery, though given his current predicament shackled he couldn't imagine another more urgent prayer for the great sky god to hear than his tonight.

The only other thing that filled his view was the marble statue of Thycan moon goddess. Odd that they thought the moon was represented by a goddess. He looked up to her the sculptor had given her a voluptuous body with swelling breasts stretching with her upraised arms as if presenting her domain for all her worshippers below.

The concoctions he had been given had taken hold of him with a vengeance. His thoughts were of shameful things, of women beneath him as he drove the mighty spear of his cock inside of their willing body. Seeing the statue of the beautiful goddess spurred such thoughts onward. He tried desperately to only think of Stenna, but invariably the image of his wife changed to that of Samara.

No, was her assault upon him so extensive that the fantasy of her would invade the hallowed memory of his wife.

Time passed and his condition grew worse. Every draft of a breeze was an excruciating erotic caress upon his skin. For that matter he should be freezing naked here on this carved-stone slab but on the contrary he was burning up, and his cock ached with each hammering beat of blood rushing into it.

It was torture so terrible that he missed the post and lash of the arena masters.

Voices of people filing into the courtyard grabbed his attention. How many people were there? Were they all looking at his nude and vulnerable body? His cheeks heated in mortification but his cock stood proud and throbbed under their eyes. It was terrible and arousing at the same time.

Time passed and people kept looking upon his high and hard member. He heard a lot of murmuring and hushed oohs and aahs and teasing laughs to eachother in reference to it, but then finally they quieted as the ceremony began.

The crowd parted as Samara walked through them. Many bowing heads in reverence to their priestess or being so bold to reach out and touch her spread hands as she passed by them.

She climbed up the steps to the dais in which he lay before the statue of her goddess.

None of this was proper for a married man from the northlands. Not to be chained up naked so hundreds of stranger could ogle his body, and certainly not to be laid out for another woman other than his wife. But part of him-the part throbbing and standing straight up begging for attention between his thighs-wanted it, wanted her.

It had to be the medicines Samara and that guard, Nechtan, had given him earlier. That was the only explanation to why he wanted her so badly right now.

His cock throbbed and shook as it felt her eyes caress it.

She turned to address the multitude that had apparently come to witness her conquest of him. In the state he was in he didn't hear her words but instead felt her voice, smooth and confident, like a silken caress over his ears and down over his body.

When she was finished with her proclamations and prayers she turned back to him. Two acolytes came up and removed the thin fabric desperately trying to contain her breasts. Freed at last they bounced and shook with no sign of sagging. Then the same acolytes unfastened and removed her bottoms. Now she stood before him as bare as he, and glorious in her nudity.

Grabbing hold of her to balance her as Samara lifted first one leg onto the marble alter he was shackled spread-eagle on top of. Her other foot soon joined it and she raised up to stand above him. She looked down upon him as she placed one foot then the next on either side of him and crouched low over him hands planting firmly over his broad chest she lowered down so the tip of his manhood brushed against the inside of her thigh. Her skin was so smooth, and cool to the touch it sent shivers along his body.

The people were silent save for some melodic chanting in high Thycan as she reached down to take hold of his raging member. He groaned at the feel of her fingers and louder as it was pressed against the bald lips of her hot and wet sex. She looked into his eyes as she began to sink downward over him and stop excruciatingly at only his head was within her. The crowd cheered and began revels of their own.

He shook his head from side to side moaning at the sensations. She was so hot and tight. Stenna always froze and whimpered in pains giving him the impression she was like ice in his hands during their wedding night cold and fragile enough to break if he were not careful with her, but Samara was not his wife. If she were made of anything it was iron sharp and unyielding.

She looked up into the stone face of her goddess and sank down slow inch by inch. He groaned out loud. She was so tight, and felt so heavenly around his cock. She stayed there fully enveloping him in bliss for a long moment before slowly beginning to move.

"No." He would not just lie there and be defeated so easily. With what limited mobility he had he thrust up inside her brutally. This was not her victory here. She would succumb to him and he'd have his revenge upon her, upon them all.

 

[papillon24]

She watched as the hate crossed his eyes. His member only halfway in and it was already filling her, stretching her farther than she had ever been. She moved slowly down his shaft, savoring the sensations as his length and girth filled her inch by sweet torturous inch. Soft moans and exhales escaped her lips as she accepted him within her.

Suddenly and with a cry of protest, he thrust hard, as hard as he could within his tight restraints. She felt his entire length slide into her knocking the breath from her as he bottomed out at the entrance of her womb. She could feel her body spasm for a moment as he filled her to the the fullest. Her soft tunnel, that was just a moment ago filled with pleasure, spasmed in in pain around his hard member. Her hands clenched into the flesh of his chest as she regained her composure. Her guards began to rush to her aid, but she held out on hand in protest and for them to stay back. She looked over to see Nechtan give her a look of deep concern.

“Have one of my sisters bring the portion over.” He nodded and ushered one of the girls up to the side of the dais to wait for her command

She took a moment focusing on her mate below her. He had a look of satisfaction the showed itself in a small smile that emanated from the corner of his lips and spread all the way to his eyes. She would not be dismayed. She listened to the crown, the chants of her people filled her ears. The sounds of mating in the crowed fueled her on.

Samara, rolled her hips forward gently with him fully in her. With everything she had, she tightened around the base of his cock before lifting gently letting her body massage up and down his length a few times. Each time, a a little easier, a little more pleasurable. Her inside began to ripple along the length of his massive member. Vibrations of pleasure began to course though her.

“You are very stubborn, mate. But you are mine. I will have your seed. The goddess had made me for sex and childbirth. it takes more that a rough stab of your pole to throw me.” her nails raked along his chest as she spoke.

With a nod of her head, Nechtan held his head and pried his jaw open. Samara jumped at the chanch, grabbing the vial that her sister handed her and poured the sweet contents down his throat. Nechtan then held his jaw closed till he swallowed.

“That is a little insurance and punishment for you. That my dear mate, will allow you to release your seed, but will keep that pole of yours hard and painfully sensitive for the next cycle of the sun. And since you took it while within me, you will only be able to find release within me.” she smiled and began to forcefully slide herself up and down his length, clenching every incho of her tunnel around him, as if pulling his seed from him

 

[Veroe]

IC: The man once named Rhoarc of the Northlands and Nechtan

"No." He would not just lie there and be defeated so easily. With what limited mobility he had he thrust up inside her brutally. This was not her victory here. She would succumb to him and he'd have his revenge upon her, upon them all.

She shook with the force of his thrust all the way deep, deeper than he'd ever gone within Stenna, deep enough he bottomed out against the core of her sex. Samara gasped in pain and he felt her spasm around him. He would've made the traditional victory roar he had been taught in the North but the feel of her fingernails as she clenched her fingers over the smooth skin of his freshly shaved chest it changed his growl to a groan.

Around them the crowd of people were franticly entangled themselves in a variety of shameful sexual configurations that set fire to his potion fueled libido.

He looked up at her between the magnificent swells of her heaving breasts. His blood surged and his chains clanged as his hands tried to reach up and grab hold of her.

The gaurds rushed up the steps of the dais to protect their mistress, but stopped when Samara raised a hand towards them.

Nechtan looked on at them worriedly. He despised that this filthy barbarian was with Samara, his woman. Yet he was also filled with a deep concern. He had given the man enough of his concoction of forkroot that it would neutralize an average man's fertility, but the Northern swine was a big man, and Samara had inraised hand and watched as she took command of the ravening barbarian.
creased the potency of her potion just to mount this man like a bucking stallion.

When the pig thrust up into Samara he rushed up partially to aid her and partially to strangle the man who'd abuse what was Nechtan's. Yet he halted at her raised hand.

“Have one of my sisters bring the portion over.” She commanded him.

Remembering his guise he nodded and motioned for one of the priestesses not engaged in the orgy below to bring another phial of Samara's aphrodisiac potion up to the top of the dais.

“You are very stubborn, mate. But you are mine. I will have your seed." She proclaimed looking down on him as she incredibly tightened around his root.

The man once named Rhoarc struggled in his chains even as the woman who sought to conquer him with pleasure rolled her hips dragging the tight wet sheath of her sex over his thrusting cock. The Thycans had taken his home, his family, his people, his name, and now Samara was trying to lay claim upon his very body, but he would resist her to the last breath. He would not succumb to her will. He would fight back.

"I will not yield to you, witch," He roared defiantly but the feel of the muscles inside of her began to tighten and pump the length of him made that roar into more of a pleasure soaked moan.

"The goddess had made me for sex and childbirth." She told him as nails raked over his chest in a confusing mix of pain and arousal, "It takes more that a rough stab of your pole to throw me.”

He shook his head as the priestess with the phial approached. "No."

At Samara's nod the guard, Nechtan, grabbed hold of him steadying his head and stiff fingers prying open his jaws once again. Then Samara took the phial and poured more of the wretched concoction down his throat.

“That is a little insurance and punishment for you," She told him, "That my dear mate, will allow you to release your seed, but will keep that pole of yours hard and painfully sensitive for the next cycle of the sun. And since you took it while within me, you will only be able to find release within me.”

Nechtan's eyes widened. That wasn't the same potion. He'd never seen Samara use this potion, and he was unsure of the effect the forkroot would have with it in his system. This slave was really pushing her to take extraordinary limits.

The man once named Rhoarc groaned and struggled in his chains as Samara began to rise and fall the muscles of her sex tightening coaxing his seed out of his balls with every pump. She was too good at this, and the potions she and that guard had given him was too much. He was being pulled inexorably closer and closer to surrendering to her conquest of his body, and the forfeit of his seed to her womb.

He had to hold on and fight her, but she like the Thycan legions were unstoppable. He would be beaten by her just as he had been beaten by them. He could already feel the need to explode within her surging up within him. It was only a matter of moments before he was filling her with the juice of his climax.

 

[papillon24]

Samara could feel him. The final throbbing in his member as he tried to hold back, fight back with all the might he had left in hid body and his soul. She could feel his pulse within her as she rolled her hips, using her body to stroke every last inch of him, forcing him to give up his seed. She raised her hands to the goddess the stood above their union and held out her arms once more. There was nothing he could do.

She felt his seed was the inside of her. Hot and unyielding in the force at which it hit the barrier of her womb. She glanced down at him as he lay back in defeat below her, breathless from effort of holding back, and then a powerful release. All she could do was smile, as she kept rolling her hips. The cowd began chanting again. At least the once who were no longer engaged in the act of pleasure.

Her sisters stepped forward. Some raised their hands to the goddess in thanks. Others placed their hands on her and her mate below her. The sensation of the others fuled her desire even more. She threw her head back as she let the waves of pleaser course though her core and wash outwards though her extremities.

Her body went limp with that. She fell forward, breathing hard. She laid her head on his strong chest. She could hear his heart beat and a low growl, she was not sure if it was pleasure of frustrations, escape his lips. She smiled as she placed a gentle loving kiss on his breastbone, following it up with another slightly higher up, and another at the joining crease between his chest and neck.

“Thank you my dear mate. For filling me with your seed. I look forward to many more days and nights of pleasure with you. It was one of the most intense matings I have ever had.” Her last kiss fell briefly on his lips before she lifted herself off of his still hard manhood and stepped off the dais.

Samara looked back. She could still see how still he was, his manhood bobbing and twitching, ready for more. She knew it would be a painful night for him without another release. She bent to whisper in his ear.

“Be good my love, and I might let you release again before we sleep”

She turned to to the crowd, standing before them, almost glowing in the wash of pleasure that still pumped though her body.

“People, Praise the goddess. Go be fertile and fruitful” one of her sisters, came up, wrapping her in a light cape, so translucent the light from the torches illuminated her form. She turned back to them, addressing her guards.

“Nechtan, please unbind him and have him bathed. Then collar him in the finest gold and have him once again brought to my chambers.” she passed by the strong man, letting a caring hand fall on his arm. “And when you are finished. Help yourself to one of the pleasure slaves of your choice. You deserve a little reward for your loyal service.”

And with that she headed for her chambers

 

[Veroe]

IC: The Man Once named Rhoarc of the Northlands and Nechtan

He had to hold on and fight her, but she like the Thycan legions were unstoppable. He would be beaten by her just as he had been beaten by them. He could already feel the need to explode within her surging up within him. It was only a matter of moments before he was filling her with the juice of his climax.

Above him Samara rose and fell, rolling her hips over every inch of his manhood. Pleasure shot through his body with every move she made, and he groaned out giving it voice. His head shook from side to side and his chains strained to keep his hands restrained as her breasts shaking from her motions over him called out to his attentions.

It was too much. No matter how hard he fought her she was going to win against him here. He could feel his seed boiling in his balls as she used her heavenly sex to pump it out relentlessly. It was unstoppable and his toes curled and his back arched as he erupted in mighty bursts within her in a wail of defeat. She raised her hands up to the statue before them reverently as his surrendered seed painted every nook and cranny within her.

He lay there panting from exhaustion she joined him atop his heaving body breathing heavy as well. At least he had winded her. The feel of her breasts against his chest made him groan as it sent shivers to his still hard cock.

He felt her lips press a kiss first on his sternum then two more in a line moving up to the space beneath the hollow of his throat. “Thank you my dear mate. For filling me with your seed. I look forward to many more days and nights of pleasure with you," she told him before placing one last kiss upon his lips, "It was one of the most intense matings I have ever had.”

He didn't say anything he just looked into her eyes as she raised herself up off of him and turned to the crowd where men and women were entangled together in a wild flurry of debauchery. She began to step down from the dais leaving him coated with the fluids of her passion growing cold now but still hard and insistent and nowhere near sated. He ached for more.

He caught her glance back over her shoulder to him, and he felt some confusing emotions then. His reaction was affection towards couple with anger at the position she had him in. He also felt shock that she was really leaving him unfinished like this, and thrilled like a warrior that had found at last a worthy adversary in her. It really didn't make sense to him and he needed time to sort out his feelings about Samara and what she wanted from him.

"You're just going to leave me like this," He called out to her.

“Be good my love," In response she bent down to whisper into his ear, "And I might let you release again before we sleep.”

Was that what he was now: a cur begging for her mercies?

She addressed the crowd then, “People, Praise the goddess. Go be fertile and fruitful." Then freshly wrapped in a cape of a material so transparent she may as well have stayed nude she left him with the guard, Nechtan.

Nechtan wanted to strangle the swine, but he made himself appear to happily do as Samara had bade him by freeing the suddenly cooperative barbarian and leading him and four of his fellow gaurds to the baths where the lumbering beast of a man was shoved forward and left to clean himself.

The man once named Rhoarc washed and rinsed himself off but given the state he was in it was not long before his hand wrapped around his frustrated erection. It felt like a bar of iron in his hands, and he began to post up and down the length of it, but it was pointless. He tried to think of Stenna, but she gradually became Samara again.

He was bewitched by that woman. He wanted to throttle her for making him want her like this. He wanted to slake all of the lust she made him feel for her. Imagining what he would do to her helped get him closer than he ever been when someone came up beside him.

"You are thinking of her, aren't you," Nechtan asked him.

The man once named Rhoarc reared back. He had forgotten he wasn't alone in these baths and his cheeks blushed deeply at what these men must have seen him doing for the last few minutes.

Nechtan took that as confirmation. "She haunts you afterwards doesn't she, like a restless spirit?"

"I have to be free of her," He replied wondering if the guard was talking about more than just himself.

Nechtan shook his head, "You will never be free. Your fate was sealed the moment you caught her eye."

"I will never surrender," He growled, "Not to her...not to any Thycan."

"It is pointless to resist her," He said shaking his head with a sneer, "You are strong, barbarian, but she is mighty." He motioned him out then. "Dry yourself off, and we will take you back to her chambers."

"And if I resist?"

"You won't," Nechtan snorted pointing down to his achingly hard erection, "She has you in her net. There is no escape from her now."

The man once named Rhoarc hesitated trying to consider his chances of overpowering these Thycan gaurds and escaping into the night. Yet where would he go? The lands of his people were leagues to the north over rivers and mountains and forests and towns filled with Thycans he'd have to cross. Also he couldn't commit himself to it. As much as he hated to admit it Nechtan was right. He was drawn to Samara somehow, bewitched by her, haunted by her. He wanted to see her again, bury his still hard cock within her again, show her he and everyone she so callously enslaved were not to be trifled with. No, Nechtan was right, he wasn't going anywhere.

Resolutely he climbed out of the baths and dried off his body. He bristled when Nechtan brought up the gold collar, but he took it and put it on himself. Then he was adorned with golden wrist and ankle cuffs followed with bands fashioned like winged serpents with pearls for eyes that wrapped around the width of his biceps and thighs.

Nechtan led him out of the baths then and back up to Samara's chambers. His hard and aching cock pointing ahead of him shamefully. Inside was the largest bed he'd ever seen, and Samara stood inside, his owner, his tormentor, his siren.

 

[papillon24]

Samara had made it to her chambers. The thin material clung to her skin but still let a breeze though as the night was in full swing. The sound of copulation and exstasy filled the air as it drifted though her window, creating a low white noise in the background. She could feel the glow within her body and the warmth of his seen within her belly. He had released deep and hard within her.

Servants scurried about her chambers. They covered the bed is the finest silk linens. The richest blues cascaded over the large bed. It looked as if the ocean had been spilled over it. The soft mattress rested on top of a large black marble slab. Embedded in the slab were steel rings. Four steel rings on each side of the bed.

She remembered the first time she used this bed. It was a gift from one of the architects of the city on the eve of her first mating with Nechtan. Before it she had slept on a simple wooden bed like those of all of her sisters. The night of her first mating, she was given this room and the bed as her own. At times she missed sleeping in the great sleeping hall with her sisters. It was lonely on her own at night. Samara had always loved the ceremony and the month after. Not only was she able to take pleasure from a man. She was able to have company in her bed for a time.

Scented jasmine water was brought in. Bowls of it were set upon the tables that graced the sides of the massive bed. One bowl war brought over to Samara by a young girl. She took it from her and let her fingers dip into the perfumed water, then dabbed a few drops around her neck to cool herself. The scent wafted up though her senses.

More servants came in carrying fine pillows filled with the softest down. Ten were laid across the top of the bed. She wondered if her mate from the north had ever laid his head on something so soft and decadent. The scurried to cover them in more silks. This time a lighter lavender color that was rarely seen in the dyes of fabrics.

A small table was brought out an set near the bed. Small plates of finger foods were set out. A plate of grapes and figs. A small bowl of almonds. A decanter of wine and her goblet were also set out.

As she poured herself a goblet of wine she hear the door open. She mate brought in. His cock led him in standing proud in front of him. The golden collar around his neck and the cuffs that adorned his body made her smile. She wondered if he had fought those as well. The cuffs accented his strong muscles. The golden color accented the darkness his skin had attained from year outdoors. He was quite the stunning sight to see.

Samara lifted the goblet to her lips before setting it down on the small table. The sight of him was beautiful. She wanted more of him and in many more ways than were possible.

“You are quite the sight my Antarsus.” She sauntered over to him standing only a few inches from him. She could feel the heat radiate from his body. She could smell his scent. She let her tongue run over her lips as she took all of him in.

Her hand came to rest on his chest. The rippling muscle under the skin flinched as her hand made contact. She could see the desire start to form in his gaze even as he fought against it. With a swift glance, she saw his cock twitch and the sight brought a smile to her face. With fluid movement her hand trailed downs his chest and belly till it rested above his manhood.

“I can see you want me. And so you shall, but not yet.” She pulled away, making sure her hand brushed the entire length of his cock.

 

[Veroe]

IC: The Man once known as Rhoarc of the Northlands

Nechtan led him out of the baths then and back up to Samara's chambers. His hard and aching cock pointing ahead of him shamefully. Inside was the largest bed he'd ever seen, and Samara stood inside, his owner, his tormentor, his siren.

She was wearing the same robe he had seen her put on when she had dismounted him like a rider would a horse back on that altar earlier. He was struck by how it shimmered in the moonlight over her curvaceous body in a vein attempt to veil her nudity underneath.

It wasn't fair that Samara was the most beautiful creature he'd ever seen. How could the memory of his wife, Stenna, ever hope to compete with this stunning enchantress before him now?

At the sight of her his raging hard cock throbbed and ached. His balls engaged full of more seed despite the emptying he had just had less than an hour before. When a breeze lifted and teased the edge of the robe to give him a view of bare skin down the center of her body he felt like they were going to burst. It was excruciating torture just looking at her.

He should be running, fighting, never giving her so much as an inch of ground to relish her conquest, yet here he was standing like her faithful hound pulled to heel because he was so tired of the constant struggle against her-not to mention the disturbing need to bury his cock deep inside of the welcoming furrow of her sex again.

She strode towards him heedless of the spectacle her appearance should be making. “You are quite the sight my Antarsus.”

She stopped with the robe swaying with the motion around her ankles and looked him up and down like his father would a prized ram in their family's flock-no like the wolf that sought to steal the ewe; licking her lips. Despite the predatory demeanor to her appraisal of his naked body.

She reached out and his hand pressed against his chest and felt so cool against the smooth shaved skin that the muscles of his pectorals trembled and rippled underneath her touch. He looked into her eyes picturing her atop him once again impaling herself upon his aching cock. She shot a glance down to that same cock and trailed her hand down from his chest over the rippling hillocks of the muscles of his stomach, down towards his manhood straining for her. Her hand halted resting feather lightly at the base.

“I can see you want me. And so you shall, but not yet.” She turned taking her hand to brush over the length of his manhood making him moan and start after her.

"Antarus is not my name," He announced, "That was the name my owner at the Colliseum called me when he whipped or beat or forced me to fight and kill for his sport."