by Faith Eden
‘That’s enough!’ Borthos eventually cried, stepping forward. He took the whip from Millaris’ unresisting hand and tossed it to Harkan. ‘Keep an eye on this one while I taste the sister,’ he laughed. ‘Then we can maybe change everything around?’
Through misted eyes, Millaris saw that Borthos’ cock appeared to have grown yet further and now, grasping it firmly in his right hand, he approached her hapless sister, whose sex peeped pinkly from between her thighs, just below the puckered little rose of her bottom hole. She groaned and turned away, not wanting to witness this final humiliation, but Harkan grasped her shoulder and forced her to turn back.
‘Oh no, sister,’ he growled, ‘I want you to watch this, see what’s coming to you shortly. See, she looks nice and wet for my friend, doesn’t she?’ Millaris merely whimpered and watched in horror as Borthos presented the rounded tip of his weapon to the unprotected sex. She heard Taralin groan as it pressed against the virgin opening, but was unprepared for what happened next. Without warning, the bound girl threw her head up and screeched at the top of her voice.
‘Go on then, you ugly bastard!’ she shrieked. ‘What are you waiting for? Stick your damned pig and then have done with me! Call yourself a damned man, do you? Well, you can fuck me, you can kill me - I’ll kill myself afterwards, if you don’t! Go on, don’t keep me waiting. Give a girl one good fucking before she dies, if you’re up to it!’
Her sudden outburst unnerved Borthos and he stepped back, looking both confused and angry. Harkan chuckled quietly and gripped Millaris’ arm even tighter.
‘Well, well,’ he whispered. ‘Quite a spirited piggy, your sister. I wonder if you’ll be so brave when your turn comes.’ He turned back to Borthos and called out louder.
‘Give her what she wants then, man,’ he laughed. ‘Look, she’s all waiting for you, or would you rather a real man did the job? Go on, I—’
His taunting was suddenly cut short and in its place Taralin heard a strange gurgling sound. At the same time the near naked Borthos clutched his chest and staggered sideways, a dark crossbow bolt embedded clean through his heart. He turned, a look of surprise on his contorted features, a look that grew even more puzzled as he saw his companion dropping to his knees, a similar bolt projecting from his throat. As the blood spurted from both men, Millaris threw her hands up to her face, screamed once and fainted.
Corinna moaned, stirred and reached out with one mitted hand, finding Halit’s semi-limp organ where it lay flopped across his stomach. She stroked it with the soft leather of her palm and was rewarded by another groan, this time from him.
‘Playful little pony today, aren’t you?’ he murmured, smiling contentedly and turning up onto one elbow. He opened one eye and squinted down at her. ‘I think I’ve made a good choice with you,’ he said softly, ‘though I fear you have a few ordeals to see out before I can have you for my own. Ha! I see we’ve stopped,’ he added, suddenly realising that the rocking, bumping motion of the wagon was absent. ‘How long has that been?’
‘No more than a few moments, master,’ Corinna replied. ‘I think it was the wagon stopping that woke me.’
Halit sat up and turned in the confined space to crawl towards the tailboard, where he drew the canvas aside and peered out and up towards the sky. ‘Early afternoon,’ he muttered, as much to himself as to Corinna. ‘They’ll be changing the pony teams further up the line. I should probably go and oversee what they’re doing.’
Corinna reached out towards him. ‘No master, please don’t leave me,’ she cried. Part of her hated what he had managed to do to her in so short a time, for her pleading was not entirely a playact to win his favour. Inside she was burning, aching for him to take her again and again, content in her helplessness to allow her innermost demons to have full rein. Halit turned back to her, allowing the canvas to drop back into place.
‘Perhaps I shall stay a while longer,’ he decided. He squatted down beside her and carefully moved her knees apart, revealing the moist pink of her sex. ‘Pretty,’ he murmured. ‘So pretty - and so hungry, too.’ Corinna giggled and tried to guide his hand to her, but he drew back.
‘No,’ he urged, ‘I want to see you do that for yourself.’
‘But in these mitten things,’ Corinna protested. ‘I can barely feel anything through them.’
‘No need to feel anything through them,’ Halit laughed, ‘as long as you feel something from them. Come now, Princess Tits, let’s see you do for both of us, eh?’ He wriggled his buttocks along her side and took both her hands, moving the left between her legs and the right to his own, circling the leather sheathed fingers about his still limp member. ‘Come, my pretty Tits, see what you can do for your master.’
Taralin recovered consciousness to find her sister bent over her, her face full of concern and she tried immediately to sit upright, though without any real success, for her head seemed to be full of whirling feathers and the world felt completely strange and off centre.
‘Shush, lie still now,’ Millaris urged, pressing her back again. ‘Let your head clear first. Here, take some water. Don’t worry, there’s no danger now. These people mean us no harm.’
As her sister proffered the skin bag to her lips, Taralin’s eyes began to focus again and she saw for the first time the two figures standing a few paces away. One was clearly some kind of soldier, for he wore a tunic emblazoned with a bright crest but his companion was a surprise, for she was female, dressed entirely in black in a flowing thigh length robe and leggings with sturdy boots, and had long, bright red hair that reached down past her waist. Like the man, she carried a crossbow in her arms and she was standing with one foot on the motionless figure of Harkan.
‘Take your time, as your sister says we mean you no harm,’ the redhead said reassuringly. ‘And these swine won’t be hurting any innocents in the future, that’s for sure.’
‘Who are you?’ Millaris asked, when her sister had taken a few spluttering mouthfuls of water. ‘Your friend’s crest there, it is different from the ones these bastards wore, is it not?’
‘Very different indeed,’ Jekka replied, and gave them her name and Ceth’s. ‘My friend here is from the army of the Protector of Illeum,’ she explained. ‘As for myself, well I’m from another land entirely, but that is of scant importance. Take care of your sister and we’ll find somewhere to bury these two. There’s another dead one behind your house, did you know?’
Millaris shook her head. ‘No,’ she said. ‘We were in the field there when they came up and did not see them until they were almost upon us. I think I heard one of them say they were Dasnians, but that means nothing to us here.’
‘Yes, Dasnians they are,’ Jekka confirmed. ‘Their lands are also far away, fortunately for the people of this land, but less fortunate is the fact that an army of them is travelling north through this way and they tend to give scant respect to any they find.’ Jekka turned and looked at the second corpse. ‘Did he...?’ she began, but Millaris shook her head.
‘No, he did not,’ she affirmed. ‘The arrow took him just in time, or I’d have been skewered on his filthy stake all right.’ Her eyes narrowed. ‘They made us... do things,’ she muttered. ‘Terrible things.’
Jekka nodded. ‘I heard some,’ she said quietly. ‘We would have reached them sooner, but to hasten would have betrayed our presence.’
‘I understand,’ Millaris nodded. ‘Thank the gods that you at least got here when you did, for I know they meant to kill us once they had finished with their vile games.’
‘Aye, that they would have done,’ Jekka agreed. She stepped away from the dead Borthos and placed her crossbow on the ground, turning towards the clump of bushes that marked the end of the fence along the front of the house garden. ‘Why don’t you step out, whoever you are?’ she challenged. Ceth spun round to see who she was addressing, but his bow, like hers, had not yet been re-cocked and she held out a hand t
o calm him.
‘Come on!’ she cried again. ‘I know you are there and you can see that I have dropped my weapon. Put yours down on the ground too, for all the good it will do you anyway.’ With a look of extreme reluctance, Ceth moved to obey and once again Jekka called out to the unseen watchers. ‘Show yourselves then, or are you mice, not men?’
There was a quiet rustle and then two figures emerged from behind the bushes. One was much older than the other, but Jekka recognised the predatory eyes and stance. The other resembled him but was many years his junior, perhaps a son, she thought. The older newcomer spoke first.
‘Greetings, lady,’ he said. He held a military crossbow in his arms, but he kept it pointed at the ground between them. His companion seemed less at ease and had his weapon trained at waist level. ‘I am... I am called Petor of Tamarinia,’ he corrected himself, ‘and this is my nephew, Dafis. We are but simple hunters and we heard a commotion from way back over there.’ He waved his arm in the general direction behind them. ‘We came to see if we could offer assistance, but it seems none is needed,’ he finished, grinning widely, and Jekka smiled back at him.
‘None now, certainly,’ she said. She looked pointedly at the two crossbows in turn, for they were certainly not the sort of weapons any normal hunters would carry. They were not even the normal military versions, but rather craftsman constructed machines with great power and high accuracy, very similar to her own bow, with which she had dropped Borthos at a range of sixty paces. She nodded her approval, but her eyes remained hooded.
‘Not a good area for game,’ she suggested. ‘Surely the hills would be better? At least there are still a few bear up there.’
‘Indeed,’ the one calling himself Petor said. ‘It was to the hills we were headed when we heard the cries and turned this way.’
Jekka smiled and shook her head.
‘Maybe so, maybe not,’ she said. ‘It matters not to me, no more than it matters whether you really are Petor of Tamarinia or Wilf of the wolves. You have that certain air about you sir and I want to know nothing of your business.’
‘Nor I yours,’ Jorkan grinned. He let his bow fall to a vertical position. ‘We seek only a little food and we shall be gone again, I think.’
‘We have a little food,’ Millaris interrupted, rising to her feet. ‘You are welcome to enough for a meal or two.’
‘We need more than a meal or two,’ the younger fellow snapped. Jekka turned and eyed him coolly.
‘Yes,’ she agreed, ‘you look like you haven’t had a good meal these past days and you could do with a change of clothing. But these people have little, so take what they offer and wait until you find a larger settlement. Here, your chivalry in coming to their rescue, albeit a little late, deserves some reward.’ She reached inside her tunic robe and produced something, which she tossed towards the two men. It fell between them, glittering in the dust and the younger man pounced on it eagerly.
‘Ten gold telt piece,’ Jekka confirmed, calmly. ‘That should buy you all you need for many a day. ‘Go on, take it. It wasn’t exactly mine in the first place, though its original owner isn’t around to dispute that any more.’ Petor, or Jorkan as was the case, nodded his thanks.
‘You are most kind, lady,’ he said. ‘Most kind indeed. May the gods smile upon you.’ He started to turn. ‘Come Pau... I mean Dafis. Let’s go back to our horses.’
His companion, however, did not move. Instead, he now had his crossbow trained directly at Jekka. ‘Maybe not so hasty, uncle,’ he said. ‘Maybe the lady has a few more ten goldens that aren’t really hers. Maybe she’d like to share some of them with us.’
‘And maybe you shouldn’t be so greedy,’ Jekka snapped. She addressed herself back to the uncle. ‘Why not take the young fool away and teach him proper gratitude, old man?’ she suggested. She saw Ceth’s hand was already resting on his sword hilt, waiting for her signal, but now the younger traveller seemed to have a change of mind. Grunting, he lowered his weapon and started to turn away, but just when it looked as if he was indeed retreating, he whirled around again, this time seeking Ceth as his target.
Jekka raised her arm, clenching her right fist and there was a whining hiss and a blur as the miniature bolt sped from beneath her voluminous sleeve. A moment later Paulis staggered backwards, the short arrow piercing his wrist, his weapon cart-wheeling from his hands, landing in the grass behind him and discharging, fortunately into the weeds and bush that bordered the field area. Ceth had his sword in hand, but the older man had raised his free hand and kept his own bow pointed firmly towards the ground.
‘Hold, Ceth,’ Jekka commanded. The young Illean trooper skidded to a halt halfway across the cleared space and waited, poised for further action. Jekka nodded to the uncle. ‘Take the fool away with you,’ she said. ‘I cannot hold with any further pointless killing today. And try explaining to him just how lucky he is, the stupid boy,’ she added, as Jorkan of Karlis turned towards his wounded companion. He nodded and smiled thinly at her.
‘I shall, lady, I shall,’ he promised. ‘But the original mistake was mine,’ he added, with a wry grin. ‘The red hair had me fooled for a while there, else we’d have given you a wide berth.’ Jekka chuckled and pointed towards the grass near where Paulis had been standing.
‘Don’t forget your coin,’ she said. ‘Your nephew seems to have dropped it for some reason. You really should teach him to be more careful with his money.’
Corinna sat astride Halit, grinding her hips slowly, savouring the feel of his hardness deep inside her. The Karliean pony trainer grinned up at her and reached for her full breasts, pushing aside the tiny nipple bells and cupping the two heavy globes appreciatively.
‘You’ll make a fine brood mare, Princess Flix,’ he said. ‘And maybe, in time, your bridle and hooves can be put away for a while, though I think there are a few good years cantering in you before that.’
‘I think so, too,’ Corinna breathed, closing her eyes. She inhaled deeply, filling her lungs as far as the tight girth permitted and contracted her vaginal muscles, eliciting a moan of appreciation from Halit. ‘And a few good years of other things, too,’ she whispered, ‘though it seems I’m not much good for anything else now.’
Mardoc detailed a veteran trooper to administer the whipping, but supervised the binding of her to a convenient dead tree trunk, testing the ropes that held her wrists about its girth and then unclipping and removing her bit gag.
‘We’ll hear you whinny, I think,’ he smirked, patting her buttocks. Dorothea glared at him.
‘Insolent young puppy,’ she spat. ‘There’s little you can say or do now that can make my situation worse, but beware my young friend, for things have a habit of coming full circle in this life. Beware that what you sow is not what you end up reaping.’
‘Maybe we’ll have this back in after all,’ Mardoc snarled. He grabbed Dorothea’s jaw and forced the much-chewed bit back between her teeth. ‘There,’ he declared, snapping the second fastening closed, ‘that should still your nasty tongue and, when Mustyn has finished thrashing you, I’ll take great pleasure in dipping you first myself.
‘What is it they call you? Pony Cunt, is it? Yes, well that’s about all you’re good for now, by the looks of it. Mustyn, see to her, but mind you don’t cut her skin.’
The trooper stepped forward and commenced his task with a cold detachment that suggested he had performed many like it before. The multi-thonged whip rose and fell with mechanical precision, the oiled braids slashing across the exposed skin of Dorothea’s shoulders, upper back, buttocks and upper thighs. To her surprise, however, she found herself almost able to rise above the pain and, as her vision swam before her and she pressed her head against the long dead bark, all she felt was a mild stinging sensation, accompanied by a low buzzing sound in her ears.
‘That’s it,’ Mardoc called, as if from very far away. ‘Turn her around and stak
e her feet wide. Apparently she prefers pussy to cock, but we shan’t give her the choice, nor the chance to resist a few honest rods.’ Dorothea made no effort to resist as they untied her wrists and turned her with her back against the tree, dragging her arms backwards and tying them again. Two metal tent stakes were then driven into the ground to either side of her feet, which were dragged towards them and cords wound about her ankles.
‘So, this is a true Illean aristocrat, is it?’ Mardoc mocked her. He had opened the front of his breeches and was already coaxing himself to a fully erect state, but he was determined to add more mockery to his prisoner’s misery before sating himself in her. Dorothea bit into the gag again and glared back at him with disdain.
‘Nice bells, at least,’ the young officer taunted her, flicking at her nipple adornments. His hand went down and pressed between her thighs. ‘Dry as an old bone, eh? Well, that’s not my problem.’ He shuffled closer, stooped slightly and then straightened, bringing the head of his phallus up against Dorothea’s labial lips. She closed her eyes and breathed in, waiting for the pain that was sure to come when he forced his way into her, but then, without warning, she felt a curiously warm sensation spreading through her lower abdomen and Mardoc cried out in surprise.
‘Well, would you believe this, boys!’ he cackled. ‘Maybe she’s not so sold on her own kind after all. Damn me, but she’s flooding down here.’ He thrust upwards and, to Dorothea’s relief, he slid in easily and without any pain to her. ‘Well well, Pony Cunt,’ he breathed, his mouth close to her ear, ‘perhaps there is hope for you yet.’
Dorothea, however, remained totally unresponsive as he humped her, eyes still firmly closed as she gave thanks to whatever god had answered her prayer, even if it was only for such a small thing.