To do what, she wondered?
That was a question. This had been a big battle. She’d used much of her troops and had few reserves remaining. She wasn’t sure she could face the Duke again in a pitched battle with the forces remaining to her. And a guerilla war would be difficult given the nature of monsters. No. Her best bet was to keep what she had in one army and march back towards friendly territory.
She found herself rubbing her wounded side and pulled her hand away. Damn that creature. And damn Ghostheart! Had she at least been able to slay the blasted orc, even the loss in the battle might have been worth it. She hoped the wound she gave him festered and rot.
“Empress?”
She raised her head. “Enter.”
Ander pushed into the tent; the young ranger’s face grim. He bowed before her.
“Ander. What news?”
“My empress. The stragglers have arrived. We lost a good quarter of the army on the field. Near that number is wounded.”
Damera grimaced. Bad. But not quite as bad as she’d feared. “I see.”
“And… there’s more.”
“More?”
“Yes. My forces followed the army. Sallowmarsh has fallen.”
“Already?” Damera said.
“Yes. It seems you were right. There were traitors within the city. When the horde arrived the gate was opened. The guard did little good. The city burns.”
Damera sighed and shook her head. After so many losses in the campaign against the horde, she felt numbed to the horror of the news. She knew too well what fate the monsters would inflict on the captive city. Slaughtering the men. Seizing its daughters as brides. Fucking the poor women until they succumbed to the monster seed, the curse of the eye upon their wombs. How their cries of terror would come to moans of please. How they would begin to croon and mold themselves against their monstrous masters. Lick their cocks and offer themselves eagerly to their mates.
Damera realized her breathing had deepened. A flush reddened her cheeks and her breasts were throbbing.
“My empress?”
Damera shook it off, turned back to Ander. “I mourn for the city,” she said softly. “But what’s done is done. We must look to the future. Let the men rest today. But tomorrow we must march.”
“As you say,” Ander said, bowing. “My empress.”
Ravaging of Sallowmarsh
Smoke snaked from buildings across Sallowmarsh’s districts. Pockets of defence still stood at the barricades, but by every hour they were torn down, the residents put to the sword or pleasures of the invading creatures. Screams and laughter. Moans and cries echoed from the grim city, rising into the night sky. A scene oft repeated across the length and breadth of Istanov as the monster hordes had their way. Their conquests total.
And from the great palace in the center of the city, laughter rang out.
“She beat you!” the Red Witch cackled, holding her sides with mirth, her naked breasts bouncing. “Gods above! You actually got beaten by the slut? Ah ha ha!”
Ghostheart said nothing. He sat on the steps of the palace. Mina, his favoured slave, bandaged his side with adoring care. The young dark-haired woman looked with worry at her master, her pregnant belly swelling outward, her body littered in the cruel paint of an orcish slave girl. On her ass was branded Ghostheart’s mark, above her mons glowed the eye, declaring her his slave.
“Does it hurt, master?” Mina asked the orc, gently tightening the bandage.
“No,” Ghostheart grunted.
Mina smiled up at him and rested her head against his chest. “Thank goodness.”
“She sliced you right across the side! Just be glad she didn’t slice off your dick. There would be a tragedy for all the sluts eager for your cock,” the Red Witch continued.
Lugin grinned from where he perched on an old chandelier. The imp popped the cigar from his mouth, tapping its ashes out. “Hey slave. Would you still be clinging to your master if he didn’t have a cock to fuck you with?” the imp asked. “’Cause if not, I could always be an obligin’ demon and give ya the relief you need.”
Mina glared at the imp as he lewdly thrust his small hips, his dangling shaft swinging obscenely. The young slave clung to the orc fiercely. “Never, you horrible little thing! Ghostheart is my master, and he always will be!”
Ghostheart rested his hand on the girl’s head, soothing her with a touch like he would a bristling cat.
The Red Witch smirked, cocking her hips. “Aw. Too personal?”
“Enough.”
The quartet turned to the steps. The click of a cane echoed down the now empty palace. His cloak rustling around him, the Duke of Ashes slowly descended. His hand grasped the eye which topped his cane, his hood pushed back, revealing his pale face.
“She failed to kill Ghostheart. That’s good. Though the wound is deep, he’ll heal in time to face her again.”
“You seem to be in a good mood,” the Red Witch observed. “Finally got your revenge for the beating she gave you last time you fought?”
The Duke clucked his tongue in annoyance. “Perhaps,” he said sinuously. He stopped near the top of the stairs, looking down at those below. He smirked at the sight of Mina, the eager slave, and the Red Witch, the potent sorceress. Two humans in such opposite positions in the horde, but both serving the will of the monsters in their own way. How he enjoyed it. “Indeed, after this, the face of the war has been utterly changed, my friends. She was cut by the dagger, yes?” the Duke asked the Red Witch.
The sorceress smirked. “Of course. My pretty flower did her job well. The empress took that knife right in the side. Not enough to kill her, mind, but she was wounded. And even then, he,” she said with a nod at Ghostheart, “couldn’t finish the bitch off.”
“Shame too. His sluts would need a new cock to satisfy them,” Lugin said.
Ghostheart growled low.
“Good,” the Duke cut in. “As for the empress, it’s no matter. In fact, I’m pleased she escaped.”
The Red Witch arched a crimson brow. “Huh?”
“Yes,” the Duke said, smirking darkly. “The poison of that blade is the tool of her fall. She will have no choice but to retreat to Kirinovo. And there she will be mine. All of Istanov will be mine.”
“What about the Red Mages?” the witch asked.
“I wouldn’t worry about them,” the Duke said with a dismissive motion. “The Red Mages see the way the wind is blowing. They won’t be a concern for long.”
The sorceress pursed her lips. “If you say so.”
“I do.” The Duke spread his arms. “My friends. Celebrate. For soon, Istanov shall be no more. And the empire of the monster will reign supreme. Once. And for all.”
< TABLE OF CONTENTS | NEXT UNCENSORED COVER >
Book Thirteen
Downfall of the Empress
By Amanda Clover and Jay Aury
@amandasmut
Cover artwork by Deilan12
Map of the Empire of Istanov
A Healing Touch
Damera Istanova felt every bump of the wagon. She winced again, her armour rattling where it was piled in the corner. Not even the bedding which cushioned her could quite defeat the seemingly endless rattling of the cart on the old road. Little surprise. At this point in Istanov, every road coming and going had been worn to the ruts by the flight of refugees and the march of armies. With no one to maintain them, the highways had fallen to pieces, as had every village her beleaguered army had passed, empty but for echoes and the ghosts of the past.
Pain again lanced through the busty empress’s side. The sensation stabbed through her addled mind. The fever had set in a day ago. Or was it more? She couldn’t tell. The world seemed to bleed and swirl around her like it were a painting smeared by uncaring hand. Her body burned, focused in that abominable wound in her side. Closed, yet still it pulsed with an ill green glow.
“Easy, my empress,” the priestess said. A modest young woman with gentle blonde hair and soulf
ul eyes, her body hidden behind a virgin white robe marked with the holy symbol of Lasha.
“Thirsty,” Damera gasped.
A cup met her lips and eagerly she drank, the cool water soothing her sore throat. She closed her eyes in blessed relief. She sighed, laying back, her generous breasts heaving, her shirt stained with sweat so it adhered to her curves and the taut, firm form of her figure. She was no plump lady in waiting. Even before the war with the Duke of Ashes the empress had been a warrior born and bred, her hobbies all having a martial bend that had kept her fit and trim.
“There,” the priestess soothed, her hands glowing as she resumed her work on the empress’s injured side. “That’s it. Just relax.”
Damera laughed bitterly. “Oh, relax!” she said. “Relax! Of course. Shall I do that while… while the monsters slaughter my troops? Oh! Or… or perhaps when all my allies abandon me to face this horror on my own. Relax! Hahaha!” Her laughter rose, shrill with hysterics that turned quickly to sobs. She threw an arm over her eyes. “Oh gods. It’s all going wrong. It’s all gone wrong. We’re going to die, priestess. Do you know that? Oh, not you and I. We’ll live. Live on as the breeding sows of monsters! And why? Because my brother… my brother was a fool. The Red Mages are traitors. And Heimsvak… Heimsvak hates us.
“Am I to blame?” she asked vaguely. “Could someone else have done better? Gods I hope so. Gods I hope I deserve all of this. Whatever happens to me.”
“No,” the priestess said, her voice tender and kind. “You don’t deserve any of what has happened to you, Damera. None of what has come to your land is your fault.”
Damera snorted. “You seem sure.”
“The gods always are.”
Golden light shone against her. Startled, Damera uncovered her eyes, and gaped.
The white robe was gone, melting away like ice in summer’s glow. The priestess was floating as if the golden light she emitted buoyed her. Flawless pale breasts were revealed, her hair a tumble of golden curls hovering about her face. Her eyes shone white with purity. Before Damera’s eyes wings of light manifested, assembling themselves like pieces of a puzzle growing from the priestesses back.
“Gods,” Damera breathed.
“One,” the angel said, touching Damera’s wound. “Kind Lasha, who has bid me come to you, and bless she who has fought for goodness against the predation of greatest horrors. Be at ease, Damera. Be at ease, and be healed as much as I can.”
Damera gasped, arching as warmth blossomed through her. The fever washed away with a wave of cleansing magic, the pain in her side banished in a flash of molten joy. Her body felt warm. Light. Tingling with electric sensitivity as she gazed up at the heavenly woman beside her.
“Who…”
“I am Tiana. Servant of blessed Lasha. She has sent me to deliver unto you a message, Damera Istanova. That you are not abandoned. That Lasha loves you, and she sends her servant to aid you in this time of great need.”
Damera gasped as gentle fingers stroked her cunny, sliding along the divot in her panties. She moaned as the fabric was eased down, baring her flushing pussy. As the angel’s lips lowered onto hers. “She loves you, Damera, and this servant does too.”
Damera moaned as those sweet lips met hers. As a gentle hand cupped her breast, massaged that firm, luscious orb. Her hips rose as the other hand continued to stroke her. Ease. Warmth. Peace spreading through her with every touch of the heavenly creature with her.
“G-gods. This… this is…”
“Lasha is a goddess of healing, Damera,” Tiana said, her voice filled with a warmth that filled the panting empress with ease. “Of life. She does not deny pleasure. It exists, and those who worship Lasha know it is merely another means of knowing her blessing.”
“Ohhh,” Damera sighed softly, whimpering, tears staining her cheeks with pleasure and uncertainty. It had been so long since she’d known such a loving stroke. Such infinite tenderness. She felt herself rocked in soothing pleasure as that wonderful finger continued to stroke her. Those soft lips continued to kiss her. And that loving hand continued to massage her breasts.
“Be at ease, Damera,” the angel murmured. “Rest. A moment of calm in a sea of turmoil and suffering. You have earned this, and so much more.”
Damera panted. “I… I don’t kn-know if I c-can.”
“I will help you,” Tiana said, and again kissed her.
Softness enveloped the empress. No longer did she feel the bumping of the wagon. The chill of the air or the heat of her fever. Only blessed warmth. Blessed softness. Her lashes fluttered. A soft cry, tender and weak, escaped her lips as her body tensed with the height of her orgasm. It washed through her in a surge, taking away the strain of the war. Of the days of the battlefield and her injuries suffered. Of the pain and sinful heat that oozed from her wounded side.
“Rest,” the angel said again, kissing her cheek. “Rest, sweet empress. And know peace, for a little while at least.”
Her eyes felt heavy. Damera tried to fight it. Tried to seize even a few moments more of the sight of the angel above her, wings glowing with tender light, eyes full of tenderness and kindness. She reached up and touched the angel’s cheek with a shaking hand.
“Th-thank… you…”
Tiana’s smile answered her, and it was the last thing Damera saw before falling deep into a dreamless sleep.
Loyalties
“Grovel before your emperor!”
The young maid – her name didn’t particularly matter to Androse – lowered her face to the floor, her naked curves shaking with fear. And oh, how that filled him with delight. Androse sat in his royal chambers within Moskov’s palace, the curtains drawn against the gloomy skies. Lamps burned, illuminating the gaudy tapestries depicting his victories, statues carved commemorating his glory. The fortune of the empire was gathered around him, dragged from the vaults. Gold and jewels gleamed around his throne, piled haphazardly in a sea of treasures. Rings bejewelled his fingers and his royal robe hung heavily on his broad shoulders. The fabric had grown strained around his ever-expanding gut, and the rings now pinched his thickened fingers, but he ignored all that. All his attention was on the quivering maidservant.
She was a pretty one. All of them were. Smirking, he pushed out his foot. “You may kiss your emperor now, whore.”
Trembling, the girl took his foot in hand and kissed it. She glanced up from between her red bangs, and seeing his look of satisfaction quickly kissed his toes again, gently sucking on them as if her life depended on it. Which it did.
Androse smirked, drawing his cock out of his pants. He began to stroke himself as the young woman sucked at his toes. Her hair reminded him starkly of his sister’s, which amused him even more. The stupid whore. If she had just kneeled likes this before him, he would have granted her mercy. But since she had been stupid enough to defy him, he’d been forced to dismiss Damera’s calls for aid. It was her own fault, really. He groaned as the maid sucked on his toe, his hand moving faster.
A knock thundered through the chambers. “What!” Androse snarled.
“My lord,” his chamberlain’s voice said, muffled by the door. “Ulamon Kade of Heimsvak has arrived.”
“What?” he snapped, kicking the maid off his foot, ignoring her cry as she fell to the floor. “What the hell does he want?”
“You agreed to meet with him, my emperor.”
“Fuck,” Androse muttered. Had he? Probably. His chamberlain was punctual to a fault, and if he said Androse had agreed to something he probably had. Not that Androse would think twice about cancelling. Fucking Heimsvakers. Thought they were so great because they took Cleavegrad from his father. He ignored the moan of pain from the maid and rubbed his chin thoughtfully, then grinned. “Alright. Show him in. You,” he said, directing his attention back to the maid. “Slut. Get up here. Time to give your master’s cock the attention it deserves.”
Knowing what awaited her if she failed, the curvy maid crawled back to her feet and kneeled be
tween his legs. Androse grunted as her soft lips engulfed his cock, sliding up and down with dutiful eagerness. Androse settling back in his throne, smirking in delight as the doors swung open and the diplomat from Heimsvak entered.
Kade was a tall, thin man, his long hair oiled back, his nose pointed like a beak. His official suit and cloak were immaculate, which made the emperor annoyed at once, reminding him of his unwashed robe. Androse curled a lip as the diplomat swept back his cloak in a long bow, not even mentioning the naked woman sucking the emperor’s cock. Prissy fucker.
“Greeting Androse Istanova, emperor of the realms of Istanov. Such a pleasure to meet you once again.”
“Hmph! So you say,” Androse grumbled, resting his hand on the maid’s head, encouraging her in her eager sucking. “Well, whatever. What brings you to my empire, Kade? Has Heimsvak come to offer their princess as my new bride?”
“Not quite,” Kade said, his smile as oily as his hair. He pressed the tips of his fingers together. “It has come to the kingdom’s attention that your sister is in a bit of a spot.”
That got his attention. “Oh?” Androse breathed, his cock twitching under the tongue of his servant. “And what… mnn… might that be?”
“Indeed, your majesty. It appears that her army was routed and is in retreat to Kirinovo. My king has bidden me ask you to hurry and marshal your forces. You must march to her aid. Between her army and yours, she still has a chance to save Istanov from the Duke of Ashes.”
Androse threw back his head and roared with laughter. He shoved the maid’s head down on his cock, his laughter hitching as he came, pumping his seed into the woman’s mouth, delighting as she choked and gagged as she tried to swallow him.
“Has she! Oh, my good man! That’s the finest news I’ve heard all year! Ha ha ha! The stupid slut! I knew she’d fail. That’s what she gets for trying to steal my empire from me!”
The Pillaging of an Empire Page 60