The Pillaging of an Empire

by Amanda Clover

  Those steely eyes softened at the sight of the voluptuous empress and Janus stepped forward. “Damera.”

  Eagerly, the shapely empress threw herself into his arms. His embrace wrapped her in firm strength. The scent of leather and steel hung about him like a musk, comforting her. Here was a man who, more than anyone, understood the trials she faced. Who sympathised with her, even though their people were ancestral foes. Her father having even attempted to subjugate the king’s realm not so long ago.

  “Janus,” she breathed, nuzzling his chest. “I missed you.”

  He chuckled. “Really, Damera. What would your men say if they saw this?”

  “Forget them,” she said. “I’ll take what I can these days. Comforts are hard to come by.”

  His hand stroked her blonde hair. “Don’t say that. You’ve accomplished so much, my dear. Look at what you’ve managed to do. You bested the Duke of Ashes and led your forces to victory against the monsters a dozen times since. All the empire looks to you as its true leader. No one could have done better, or more.”

  Damera’s arms tightened around the comforting frame of the king. “But it’s not enough,” she said softly.

  For a moment there was only silence. Then his hand patted her head. “No, Damera. No, I fear it’s not. But such is the fate of the ruler. It’s never truly enough. There’s always something more over the horizon. Some new menace that we must face. And must overcome. That’s the nature of our job, I’m afraid.”

  Damera sighed. “I know,” she said softly. “I know.”

  But for that moment she relished the chance to let such worries bleed away. To be vulnerable in the arms of the man she had dared to love, though she knew her feelings could not be returned. For the king before her was married, and though he may care for her, she knew he loved his wife as well.

  So, she enjoyed that moment, knowing it wouldn’t last, and oh how it pained her when his hands moved from around her and grasped her shoulders, gently pushing her back.

  “Damera. I’m sorry.”

  “You don’t need to say it,” she said, turning away, wrapping her arms around herself as if to compensate for his rejection. “I know you’re pulling away the soldiers you lent to me. You’re pulling back to Kirinovo.”

  She sensed him stiffen, then sigh. “How did you… No matter,” he said, shaking his head. “How doesn’t matter. I’m sorry, Damera. But my generals and men… they don’t understand why they’re helping their ancestral enemies.”

  “I’m not your enemy,” she said sharply, rounding on him, eyes flashing with anger.

  “You are not, Damera. But your father was. And his father. And his. And your brother.”

  “And what of the creatures lurking in the dark?” she asked harshly, beckoning at the walls of the tent. “What of the Duke and his monsters? Don’t your generals understand the threat they pose?”

  “To be honest, most think that it’s no less than your people deserve,” Janus said.

  “You can’t possibly believe that.”

  “I do not,” Janus said with a sigh. “But my men, my allies, they don’t see it the same way. And I can’t keep them from home. There’s already been rumblings from Heimsvak. Not all are pleased with my rule, and the longer I’m away, the more they will grumble and plot.”

  “Do they think Cleaveguard will hold back the monsters if Istanov falls?” Damera asked.

  “I doubt they even really understand the menace this Duke poses. They see it as an Istanov problem.”

  “It’s all humanity’s problem!”

  “I know. I know…”

  “Then why?” Damera gasped. “Why won’t you stay?”

  “Damera, I cannot. I have my own kingdom. And my wife and daughter to think of.”

  Damera collapsed into a camp chair, closing her eyes and massaging her forehead. “Oh yes,” she muttered. “The queen and princess. How lovely. I imagine they don’t have to deal with the invasions of unholy horrors from nightmares. The politicking of an incompetent brother. No. They get a husband and father who loves them. Cares for them. A nation secure and prosperous.”

  “Damera…”

  “Don’t mind me,” Damera sighed, flopping back in the camp chair. “I know. I know. You wouldn’t be leaving if you had a choice. Politics,” she muttered bitterly. “Always politics…” She sighed. “You know,” she mused with a wry smile. “Sometimes, I dream of what might have been. If my father had not loathed you all so much. I heard that at one time, he considered offering me in a political marriage to you.”

  “He did?”

  “Surprised?” Damera said with a broken laugh. She rose from the chair and slowly moved towards him. “It makes one wonder,” she breathed, rolling her shoulders, her dressing gown slipping back, revealing more of her breasts. “Would you have loved me, my king? Even knowing I was of the enemy?”

  Janus didn’t move as she stopped before him. As her hands toyed with the buttons of his jacket. “Would I have loved you? Even though I was likely sent to sabotage your kingdom? I think I would,” Damera breathed, teasing open the buttons, baring his sculpted chest. “I think so,” she murmured, touching his firm flesh, feeling him suck in a tense breath. “I think I would have.”

  His hands again touched her shoulders. “Damera…”

  She took his hand, moved it from her shoulder. Her gown slipped down further, and she pressed his palm against the creamy breast it had revealed. “Would you have?”

  Janus grasped her breast. She arched with a soft moan as his palm massaged her ripe teat, pressed down on a firm, needy nipple. “Dammit Damera,” Janus growled, his other hand moving around her back, tugging her against his chest. “Why do you do this to me?”

  “Because I’m selfish,” she moaned softly, pressing herself against him, tugging down his jacket, her sleeping robe falling from her shoulders, baring all her firm, naked curves to the warm tent air. “Because I need some comfort, my king. If you must leave, so be it. But I want you. Take your armies, but leave me this night. Please…”

  “Damn your eyes,” Janus growled, but his voice was thick and husky with lust. He pulled her against his front, pressed a kiss to her willing lips. Damera moaned, eagerly accepting his kiss, grinding her groin against the bulge in his pants.

  “Janus,” she breathed, reaching between them, fumbling for the laces of his pants even as she yielded her kiss to the older man. His cock sprang free; hot, thick, filling her palm. “Oh, my king,” she moaned, stroking his throbbing shaft.

  Janus kissed her again. He massaged and teased her helpless, firm teat in his hungry palm. He pushed her back across the tent. They fell, her back hitting the tent’s bed. He was over her, his cloak draping them both. He panted, looking down at her pale form, large breasts aching for his touch, her cheeks flushed, her blonde hair framing her head in a golden halo. Her quim damp, slick for him, eager to again taste his cock.

  “Fuck me,” she breathed.

  “Damn temptress,” Janus gasped. But as he grasped her hip, lifted it and teased forward his shaft, he was gentle. Damera moaned as his cock pushed inside of her, filling her with the head of his manhood. She rocked beneath him as he began to thrust into her. As he kissed her neck, licked her collarbone, his bristly chin tickling her achingly sensitive flesh.

  “Oh my king!” she moaned, panted, fucking herself against his plunging cock. “Ah. Ah! Yes! Fuck me! Fuck me my king! Ohhhhh gods yes! Yes! Fill me with your cock! Oh your majesty. I love you. I love you! I… I’m… mnnnn!”

  She keened as she tightened around him, cumming, cumming with all the force of her denial the past few weeks. The stress of it all pouring out of her in the hot tightening of her pussy around the plunging cock within her. She cried out, helpless with joy, letting the agonies she’d endured bleed away. Ever since the Battle of Skull Keep, she’d been holding it all inside her. Finally, relief. Blessed relief.

  “Gods,” Janus panted. “Gods above Damera. You’re so tight. So lovely.”


  “Mmm! Thank you. Ah. Janus. Janus p-please. Please cum in me.”

  Janus’s breath hitched. “Damera. Damera, I can’t…”

  “Please!” she moaned, moving against him. Knowing that despite his protests he kept thrusting into her. His pace growing ragged. His eyes hot and eager. “Janus. Cum in me. Please. I’ve never… never begged before. But I want it. Want your seed. Please. Please, c-cum in me! Give me your child!”

  “Damera. Oh gods Damera,” Janus moaned, thrusting faster. Faster. His body tight with his impending orgasm.

  “Janus!”

  “Nnnn!”

  She cried out in loss as he suddenly pulled his cock from her sloshing pussy. He groaned as he came, pumping his hot seed onto her bare, toned stomach. She moaned beneath him, the feeling of loss not enough to stem her second orgasm, spurting onto her blankets in a helpless, rolling peak that sparked through her like lightning.

  Janus panted from atop her. “I’m sorry, Damera. Truly.”

  “I know,” Damera moaned softly beneath him. “I know. I only wish… ah. If it all goes wrong, Janus, I would rather be carrying your child than that of a monster.”

  “Damera. I can’t offer you that. My wife… I love her, dearly.”

  “And I love you,” she said, touching his cheek.

  Janus smiled and leaned down, his lips again meeting hers. Damera moaned softly, pushing against him as his hand engulfed her soft teat again, massaging that firm orb. Damera whimpered in pleasure, again feeling the heat of her core pulse with desire for the muscular man atop her. Her arms laced around his neck. Her pussy ground against his waist, still so hot. So needy. So eager for another taste of the king’s cock.

  “Empress!”

  Janus bolted back and upright. With a squeak Damera sat up as the tent flap was thrust aside and Torria stepped in. The Amazonian general froze, eyes widening at the sight that greeted her.

  “Torria!” Damera gasped, clearing her throat awkwardly and tugging the sleeping robe back onto her, hastily hiding her breasts and tightening the sash. “What is it? What’s happening?”

  The general flushed brightly, hastily averting her eyes from Damera, only for them to fall on Janus. The Istanovian general scowled a little at the king of their neighbouring realm. Janus coughed a little.

  “I had… best be going. Farewell, Empress.”

  “Oh. Yes,” Damera said lamely. “Farewell.”

  She watched as Janus thrust aside the flap of the tent and left. Damera let out a breath in regret, then turned her full attention to the blushing general before her.

  “Well, Torria?” she said, rising, once more the graceful empress of the realm. From a side table she grasped a decanted and poured herself a glass of wine in order to calm her nerves. “What news? I do trust it was important.”

  Torria flushed deeper at the quiet reprimand and bowed her head, thumping her fist against her breast in salute. “Forgive me, my empress. I didn’t know… Ahem. We intercepted the monster forces spotted departing through the east woods. A minotaur was leading them, but fortunately, he was killed early in the battle. The enemy forces were overcome with minimal casualties.”

  “Hmm,” Damera mused, staring into her wine. “Which means you didn’t face the Duke’s true forces.”

  “No, mistress. It was as you suspected. It appeared they were probing our army for weaknesses.”

  “Did any escape?”

  “Some of the monsters did. But it seems unlikely they gained any useful intel.”

  “I see.” Damera downed the glass, feeling the liquor burn its way down her throat. She set it aside and brushed some of her golden hair back. “Then instruct our forces. We ride out of Sallowmarsh immediately to face the Duke.”

  Torria’s head snapped up. “My empress? But…”

  “The Heimsvak forces are pulling back to Kirinovo, depriving us of much needed man power. We have to strike at the Duke before he manages to rally his forces further. And before he can prepare any sorceries.”

  “Why? With the Red Mages- “

  “They left.”

  Torria stiffened. She raised her head, stunned. “What?”

  “The Red Mages have departed,” Damera repeated with a cold smile. “It seems they have left Kirinovo as well. They are returning to Moskov, in order to assist my brother with some sort of ritual.”

  “But… but why?”

  “They did not say,” Damera said with a bitter laugh. “It seems they don’t feel it necessary to explain themselves to me for their abrupt departure.”

  Torria’s hands tightened to fists at her side. “My lady, give me the word! I will ride them down and hang them from the battlements by their withered necks!”

  “I appreciate the sentiment, Torria. But I can hardly spare you for such vengeance. Even if you could intercept them, I doubt you’d be able to best them all. The Red Mages work in their own ways. Who can say what they intend? But my brother is a fool if he thinks they come to aid him.”

  Torria watched as Damera took another drink of wine. Little wonder, the general thought. Without the troops of Heimsvak and the Red Mages, they were in a tight spot indeed. Their forces depleted by the endless combat; it would be a hard fight to be sure.

  But Torria didn’t hesitate. She went to her knee before her empress, bowing her head. “My empress. Give me your command. So long as I live, I will not fail you. By my sword and my soul, I will serve you come what may.”

  Damera’s look softened at the amazon’s words. She rested a hand on the other woman’s head. “Thank you, Torria. It’s good to hear. And I have an important task for you. The monsters still gather their forces. So, we must strike now. At the black heart of them. We advance on their position at once, but I will have you lead the vanguard. Scout ahead. Clear any enemies in our path. This I entrust to you.”

  Torria raised her head to her empress. The saviour of her kingdom. Of her race. “I will not fail you, your majesty.”

  “I know,” Damera said fondly. “Dear cousin, I know.”

  Shadow Schemes

  The campfires glowed like willow-the-wisps among the low mists of the Sallowmarsh. The walls of the city rose high above the tortured trees of the grim land, dark towers rearing against the night, torched burning along the narrow walls. The moonless dark wrapped the land, creeping in on the human camp, held at bay by campfires and the dim shapes of sentries at watch.

  Even if it were day, it was doubtful any would see the dark figure standing on the distant cliff, watching with burning eyes the human camp. A dark robe rustled around him, his pale hand flexing on a cane topped with the symbol of a staring red eye.

  “More than I expected,” the Duke of Ashes mused as he surveyed the camp.

  “Worried?”

  He glanced aside to a pale figure near at hand. Voluptuous, naked, the Red Witch’s firm breasts swelled from her chest in flawless peaks, her crimson hair moving in the wind of her power, fairly crackling with her magic. Once she had been a noble lady, but that had been a lifetime ago. Now, she was the only other human besides the Duke not a slave in the monster horde, and despite her display of female flesh, not a creature would dare touch her.

  The orc, Ghostheart, grunted. He stood head and shoulders over the two humans. Clad in only a loincloth, his scarred, grey form was corded with muscle and carved with scars. White paint emblazoned his face with the shape of a skull. Thrust in his belt was the dark dagger of his clan. A weapon of murder, which he had used in the arenas of his servitude and won his freedom with, slaughtering his would be master. Taking the man’s daughter as his personal slave.

  “No,” the Duke said, glancing back down at the human encampment. “The empress got lucky at the Skull Keep. She won’t be again. At least, she won’t, so long as the trap you set is in place.”

  “Of course,” the Red Witch laughed, her eyes sparking in cruel madness. “The poor slut won’t know what hit her! I’m awfully proud of it, you know. I’ve put a lot of work into this.�
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  “Good,” the Duke said, turning to face them. His eyes flicked to Ghostheart. “I leave the battle to you. Crush them, Ghostheart. Water these lands with the human’s blood. Without the empress, all of Istanov will fall at last, and the monster will once more rule.”

  Ghostheart grunted. “I kill.”

  “You’re leaving it to him?” the Red Witch said with an amused glance. “What about the Red Mages? They’ll make short work of this meat head.”

  Ghostheart turned his cold eyes to the redhead. He curled a lip back over a tusk.

  “He won’t need to worry about them,” the Duke said, his cane tapping the stone as he moved past the pair. “The Red Mages have departed.”

  “Huh?” the witch said. “Wait, they did? Why?”

  “Ah,” the Duke breathed as the darkness swallowed him. “That, indeed, is the question…”

  The Weapon

  Lugin yawned and took another drag on his cigar.

  The imp had done well, if he did say so himself. It took guts and skill to get to where he was today. Naked, his small frame was nestled among some cushions in the old palace. His small derby hat was pulled low and his familiar cigar between his lips. He took another puff, breathing out the coiling purple demonic smoke.

  At his feet, the four human women eagerly inhaled the twisting ribbons of corruption, moaning softly. All were utterly naked, their curvy frames and plump breasts on full display. As was the pulsing mark of the eye above their hair tufted mons. Lugin grinned down at the sluts as two resumed their worshipping of his fat cock, eagerly licking and sucking at his shaft. The imp moaned happily, crossing his arms behind his head.

  “That’s it,” the imp sighed. “Just like that. Good sluts. Mmm. You lot were born to be fucked by a proper demon. Oh yeaaaaah. Hm?” He cocked his eyebrow as one of the neglected women crawled over him, offering up a plump teat. “Oh? Want me to suck your fat titty?” he asked, reaching up and groping her breast.

  “Oooooh,” the woman moaned. “P-please master. Please. N-need it.”