“You are a lovely one,” the plant woman crooned, swaying a little in her flower. The nectar around her sloshing softly around her waist. “So lovely and fair. Little wonder the orcs were so eager to take you. Such beauty would drive the brutes mad.”
The woman looked like a nymph, Torria thought. A creature of sensuous beauty fabled to inhabit springs. Protectors of women and providers of protection to virgins. Of course, Torria was no virgin, but she still felt her blush deepen at the plant woman’s words. “I… thank you.”
“Lycea,” the plant woman crooned. “Call me Lycea.”
“Lycea,” Torria said, the name tingling on her tongue. “My name is Torria.”
“Torria,” Lycea repeated, the way the creature pronounced it with her dark tongue sending a pulse of raw desire into Torria’s core. “Torria. Such a lovely name. Suitable for a lovely woman.”
“I… m-my name isn’t so… No one has thought it lovely…”
“Because they are fools. Torria,” Lycea murmured, her great breasts swaying, heaving as she spoke that name, her head tilting back and eyes growing lidded as if she found pleasure in the simple act of speaking it. “Torria, Torria, Torria.”
Her name spoken like a chant made Torria blush even hotter. What was going on with her? Her head was spinning. Her body was boiling hot.
“You seem flushed kind, gentle, lovely Torria,” Lycea crooned.
“I um… am a little,” Torria murmured, her thoughts light, her body feeling like it was wrapped in clouds.
“Of course. So much armour and cloth. Little wonder. Here. Let me help you.”
Gentle hands eased forward, teasingly touching buckle, belt and thread. Torria wondered when she had gotten so close. But even as she did those thoughts slipped away, her mind sloshing like the nectar around Lycea’s waist. Torria sighed softly as her clothes fell away, revealing her toned frame to the open air, the kiss of the wind cool and refreshing.
“So much better. Oh Torria. Why hide such loveliness behind armour and cloth?”
“It’s… proper…”
“Oh, you humans,” Lycea murmured, drawing Torria nearer. “You beasts of thought and flesh. Goddess but you are sweaty my sweet. Here.”
Lycea leaned in and licked Torria’s neck. The amazon gasped, arching as that gentle tongue sent a bolt like lightning into her trembling core. Her thighs tightened, her quim moistening with the terrible sensitivity awoken in her. “Wh-what are…”
“Is this not proper?” Lycea murmured, licking her again, tongue travelling along Torria’s throat, down her chest and to her tender breast. “Is this not how beasts clean one another?”
Torria panted. The immense flower blossoming from Lycea’s head was directly beneath her face. Thick pollen wafted into the air, surrounding Torria in a haze of crimson motes. Her head swam. Pounded with pure, primal lust. “I… humans d-don’t… we don’t…”
“Oh, of course not. You must forgive me. You’re probably so eager to be off.”
“N-no!” Torria gasped out.
A pause filled the air. Then a gentle laugh. “Is that so? How lovely. Then, why not take a moment. Just relax while I clean you off. Hm?”
Torria was confused. Her head felt like it was stuffed with cotton. She didn’t know how to refuse. How to do anything but follow the gentle tug of Lycea’s hands, drawing her onto the petals, into the pool of nectar that surrounded Lycea.
Torria moaned softly as she sank into the thick nectar. That sticky solution clinging to her long legs as she sank into it. Deeper. Deeper. Her whole lower body glowed with warmth. She fell against the soft edge of the petals.
Lycea moved over her, kissing her, licking her. Touching her. Torria whimpered, helpless beneath the soft caresses and tickling touch of those clever, clever fingers.
“Good girl,” Lycea murmured. “You’re doing so well for me, Torria. So well.”
“Mmm,” Torria moaned softly.
“Just relax,” Lycea crooned. “Just relax, my lovely warrior. My lovely girl. Just relax and let me ease all the pains of this world from you. Just relax. Just… relax…”
Torria whimpered as she felt something tease along her legs. Stroke her inner thighs. Slim feelers growing from the base of the flower slipping along her until they found her naked pussy.
Something… something about all this was wrong. Torria looked up into the eye of Lycea. “What…”
“Shhh,” Lycea crooned, leaning in yet closer. “Just… relax…”
And those lips fell on Torria’s, and all her worries just melted away.
Torria moaned, arching beneath the plant creature, her lips and mouth buzzing with the force of that kiss. She gasped, whimpered, arched as the feelers slid into her pussy and into her ass, her body clamping down in shivering delight on those twining intruders.
“That’s it. Good girl. Good human,” Lycea purred.
“Nnn. Ah. Nnn!” Torria gasped, all her strength useless. Stolen. Taken away by the force of the pleasure that thumped through her. She slipped deeper into the nectar of the pool. The tingling heat warming her further.
“That’s it. Just give in. Pretty girl. I hunger so,” Lycea purred, stroking Torria’s cheeks, her body, her breasts. “Yessss. You’ll be so good. So fine. So useful. That’s it. Give in, my lovely. My sweet little fool. Surrender to my hunger. Surrender to me.”
Torria couldn’t answer. Her mouth was open, drooling, panting in mindless bliss as she was fucked by the vines. Stroked by her captor. As she slipped deeper and deeper into the pool. As she was devoured by the acidic nectar. She didn’t feel her flesh begin to slough away. Her beauty lost. She only knew pleasure. Pleasure unending. Pleasure eternal.
The petals closed around them, masking them in darkness. And in it, a green eye twinkled with mirth.
Reborn
The tall grass caressed the Red Witch’s long legs as she strode through the forest. Her smirk was of amusement, her red hair writhing with her latent power as she pushed aside the flimsy barrier that guarded the meadow of Lycea.
“Oh, how does this work. Damn it. Does it… oh fuck it all.”
The witch’s smile widened at the voice and stepped into the field of flowers. The bulb of Lycea’s flower rose in the distance like a protective womb of red and green, the twinkling stars of magic enriched pollen dancing through the air. The hypnotic power of the pheromones did nothing to the sorceress as she walked towards the flower, and the figure kneeling at its foot.
Naked, a body firmed and strong from battle and wars, yet curved with the familiar beauty of femininity, Torria cursed again as she turned a pair of pants about in her hands.
The Red Witch slipped up behind the preoccupied amazon, drew back her hand, and delivered a stinging spank to the woman.
“Nyaaaa!” Torria squealed, bolting to her feet in surprise.
“Enjoying yourself?”
Torria spun about, and her green eyes brightened at the sight of the crimson haired sorceress. “Mistress!” Torria cried, flinging herself in the Red Witch’s arms, nuzzling the sorceress’s full, firm breasts. “You’re back!”
“Hello, Lycea,” the Red Witch chuckled as she stroked the creature’s head, down her back and to the long stem that connected the puppet to the flower. “Enjoying the new form?”
“Very much mistress!” Lycea giggled, looking up into the witch’s eyes with puppyish glee. “Oh, she was soooo easy! You should have seen her, mistress. She just came to me like a silly little bee. Never guessing what I was going to do to her. She never even figured it out before I ate her all up!”
“Oh, I don’t have to imagine it,” the witch grinned, slipping her finger down Lycea’s front, stroking the amazon’s pussy. “I can see it right here.”
Lycea’s mouth opened in a quivering moan. She pressed herself against the sorceress, eyes glassy with pleasure and delight. “Mnnnn! Oh m-mistress!”
“Like that?” the Red Witch crooned, kissing the puppet’s ear, supporting Lycea as the
plant woman’s avatar clung to her. “Flesh isn’t all bad, my pretty little plant girl. You can experience so many things with it, can’t you?”
“Oh m-mistress,” Lycea whimpered in delight, her hips weakly humping the witch’s hand as she fingered the plant’s puppet. “Oh g-goddess!”
The witch laughed with delight, the fires of madness flaring in her eyes as she again kissed the helpless thrall, enjoying the floral taste of the puppet’s mouth. A thing of plant in the guise of flesh, the witch delighted in the sense of touch and pleasure she could elicit from the creature. It had been some time since she’d enslaved the plant woman. A willing slave, of course. Many such creatures had too close a tie to the natural world to follow the Duke of Ashes, so it had fallen to her to claim this one.
And it had, in the end, been quite easy. Such creatures yearned to feed and sprout, and thanks to the witch, Lycea had never lacked in either. And when the sorceress had begun to toy with the plant’s body, Lycea had more than eagerly thrown herself into the service of the crimson haired witch.
And little surprise. The Red Witch gave the moaning doppelganger a hard kiss, the plant woman yielding eagerly to the press of those red lips. The moaning puppet whimpered and clung to the Red Witch, helpless as the sorceress sent pules of power racing through the clone, pleasure sparking through the vine that connected her to the waiting bulb. The witch smirked as the walls of the bulb quivered, rippling with pleasure.
“Enjoy that, Lycea?” the Red Witch breathed. “Does my monster slut enjoy her mistress’s touch?”
“Oh so muuuuuch,” Lycea moaned helplessly. “Yes. Please! Nnn! F-feels so… ah… so good. Oh mistress. C-can I? Can I…”
The Red Witch felt some vines tease against her toned legs, shyly climb along her thighs to stroke the crease of her bum and the flushed lips of her slit. The sorceress gave a low moan of pleasure. “Mmm. Always eager to serve, aren’t you, Lycea?”
The plant woman giggled. “Oh yes mistress! So eager.”
A hiss of breath escaped the sorceress as those clever vines slipped along the crack of her ass, their passage aided by the tingling sap of the plant woman’s essence. She gave a low moan as the second vine stroked her cunny, rubbing against her tantalizingly. In the end, Lycea was utterly a predator. Skilled at pleasure and seduction. But she had never known the delight of submission.
Which the Red Witch had been more than happy to show her.
“Mmmm. That’s it. Ah,” she gasped as the vines began to tenderly fuck her cunt and ass. “Ohhh good slut. My pretty flower bitch. That’s a good girl.”
“Mmm! Thank you, mistress,” Lycea moaned, panting, her pink cheeks coloured faintly green as her glamour struggled to survive the thunderous pleasure which wracked her. “Oh goddess! Yes! Yes! Nnnnn!”
Lycea squealed in delight, her warm nectar pumping from her pussy, soaking the witch’s hand. The sorceress moaned happily, the twin vines filling her pussy and ass swelling with the plant woman’s orgasm, hurrying her towards her own. “Ah. Ah! Haaaa!” the Red Witch gasped, her hips twitching as she came around the plant woman’s vines.
For a moment the pair remained there, locked in the embrace of the other, weakened with post-coital bliss. The Red Witch smirked down at Lycea’s stolen face. It was just a shame that the plant woman needed a physical form to copy. Had she not, then the Red Witch might have had another thing for her to transform into. To create a copy from the witch’s memory. The shape of a slightly older man. Noble. Strong. Or a gentle maiden. One who had willingly sacrificed it all for her mistress…
The Red Witch released the plant woman abruptly, withdrawing her fingers from the doppelganger’s cunny. Lycea stared at the witch, panting hotly, confusion written all over her face.
“M-mistress?” the creature moaned weakly.
“Now now,” the Red Witch said, wagging a finger at the creature. “Don’t think I’m going to spoil you. At least, not until you accomplish your mission. You still have a job to do, my pretty little flower.”
Lycea beamed. “I know, mistress! I won’t fail you.”
“Good girl,” the Red Witch said. Hand still dripping with the plant creature’s juices, the Red Witch swirled her fingers, and from nothingness a blade twisted into being. The steel was black as obsidian, the edge coated in a pulsing green. She pressed it into Lycea’s hand. “Use this, my pretty flower.”
“Gladly, mistress,” Lycea purred as she took the blade. She shuddered as she touched it, feeling the raw, unholy magic pulse from the knife. She was a thing of primal magic and essence, and through such a nature, she could feel the purpose of the dark spell entwining the knife. “Oooh, mistress! You are naughty!”
“You know it,” the Red Witch grinned. She gave the doppelganger’s breast another teasing squeeze. “And when you succeed, I promise you a treat.”
Lycea giggled. “Mmm. The human was already delicious.”
“And you’ll have many more soon. As well as my own personal reward.” The Red Witch touched Lycea’s chin, tickling it. “Now, let’s get you dressed, my flower. It’s time to get to work.”
Though the disappointment was palpable Lycea obeyed. With some effort they managed to dress her in Torria’s armour. A process that became easier the longer they went about it as Lycea absorbed more of the amazon’s memories. Within the hour Lycea stepped out of the bounds of the forest, adjusting her breastplate, a smile on her lips.
“Commander!”
Lycea turned sharply at the beat of hooves. She straightened sharply as several riders emerged from the thick forest.
“Commander,” Ander repeated, pulling back his hood. “Thank the gods! We feared the worst.”
“That the orcs caught me?” she asked, then gave a short sniff of contempt. “The brutes were nothing. I lost them easily.” She glanced at the half dozen men with the soldier. “Is this all?”
“All that escaped, commander.”
“Then we have no time to lose,” Lycea said. “We must warn the empress! As I fled the orcs, I came upon new information she must know for the battle to come!”
Anders stiffened in his saddle. “Yes ma’am! Here. Ride with me, my lady.”
“Thank you,” Lycea said. She took the man’s hand, pulling herself astride the horse. The animal nickered, prancing uneasily at the presence of the monster on its back until Anders managed to get it under control again. Then he spurred the animal forth, riding hard away from the forest.
As they departed, the Red Witch stepped out of the forest, watching them go. Her smirk was sharp, her eyes sparking with amusement.
Soon.
Stratagem
Damera paced impatiently within her tent. Arms crossed behind her back, she scowled at nothing.
Torria was late. More than late. Irritably the empress gnawed on her thumbnail, her eyes narrowed with frustration. Was the amazon dead? Gods she hoped not. She’d lost too many allies during this war. She was near the breaking point as it was. She couldn’t afford many more situations like this to develop.
She shook her head violently, banishing the insistent worries. Fretting wouldn’t get her anywhere. If Torria was dead, so be it. She could do nothing about it now. She had to look to the future.
With a sigh Damera collapsed into her camp chair. On a crude desk were laid out maps of the nearby area, troop dispositions, reports and the like. She poured herself a glass of wine and picked up a recent report, trying to focus on words that seemed to writhe and wriggle like snakes before her eyes. She took a sip of wine, grimacing. Bitter.
She stared into the glass, gently swirling it, watching the crimson liquid slosh within the crystal. Despite herself, her thoughts returned to the Red Mages the day they had departed. There had been no warning. She’d been in her tent during the march to Sallowmarsh to meet the enemy.
My empress.
The voice had resounded in her head. She’d looked up from her table, and saw one of the red mages before her. A grand magister by the cut of his robes
, his face obscured by a mask revealing nothing but a pair of burning eyes. Golden trim decorated the fabric, runic designs patterned over the blood red cloth in swirls and spirals of darkness.
“Magister Wroth,” she’d said. “What brings you here?”
We are departing.
She remembered the sensation that had shot through her at those words. She’d gaped, staring at the sorcerer, unable to find the words. “Wh-what?”
My brothers and sisters are leaving the army. We wish you luck with your efforts.
“Hold… hold on here Wroth!” she’d gasped, bolting to her feet. “What’s the meaning of this? Explain yourself!”
The Red Mage had cocked his head, the stillness of him unnerving her even in the present, sending a shiver of unease racing through her. There is nothing to discuss and nothing to explain. Situations have changed. We are returning to the capital.
“To my brother?” she’d gasped incredulously, her skin crawling from the voice of the mage echoing in her thoughts. “Why? He can’t help you against the monsters! He’s an idiot! A fool!”
We agree. We have informed him that we are rejoining his ranks to help defend the capital.
“Are you mad!” she’d gasped. “If we don’t stop the monsters here, they’ll be able to march straight on to Moskov! The city guard won’t have a prayer to stop them. Not even with your magic! They’ll wash over you like a tide!”
We are aware.
“Then why? Stay here. Wroth, together we can best the Duke. You know it!”
The possibilities are irrelevant to us. The situation has changed. We are pursuing our own projects.
“I-“
It is pointless to try and call the guards. As I said, my associates have departed. You have nothing left to offer us, empress.
Her hands had tightened on the table, shaking with anger. With helplessness. “Then why?”
This is a courtesy, empress. You have done very well. You have taken a hopeless situation and instilled the chance of success in your people. I have he highest hopes for you in the battle to come.
“You abandon me. You abandon Istanov!”
The Pillaging of an Empire Page 58