The Pillaging of an Empire

by Amanda Clover

  “Hm. Stella. Are you trying to seduce me? Because let me tell you, it’s working quite well,” Reegan cooed. She snapped her fingers, and her gown unwound itself into sparks of magic, revealing the full extent of her shapely frame. Her high, firm breasts capped with soft pink nipples. Her shaven cunt and slender thighs. As perfect as a golden statue of the goddess of fertility, and nearly as shapely.

  Stella recognized the signal. She left the sorceress’s foot, kissing her way up Reegan’s leg, her inner thigh with lips tingling from the contact and the taste of the sparking, lingering magic. By the time she reached her mistress’s cunny Stella’s lips were buzzing, and she wasted not a moment before leaning in and planting a soft, adoring kiss on Reegan’s damp cunt.

  “Ooooh,” Reegan moaned, her hands lacing in Stella’s hair, tugging the serving girl against her damp slit. “Good girl. Right… mnnn… there… You always were good at… ah… kissing up…”

  Stella’s cheeks burned at her words, but her pulse quickened and her tongue slid up those damp folds. She felt humiliated and used and yet both filled her with even greater yearning for the woman above her. The taste of Reegan’s cunt danced on her tongue as she was pulled harder against the other woman’s quim. As her tongue delved into that honeypot, her ass rocking softly with desire. Her hand shyly sliding down her inner thigh, finding her own damp cunny and sliding a teasing finger up and down herself.

  “Mnnnnn,” Stella moaned, lashes fluttering.

  “Hm? Oh ho! Is my slut… nnn… enjoying her… ah… herself?”

  “Mmhmm,” Stella moaned.

  “No surprise. After all, you are licking me out. Oooh, but what kind of nnn! Of mistress would I be… if I let you do ah… all the work…”

  Stella was in the midst of pulling her tongue from that hot box to answer when a ghostly touch slid along her spine. She gasped, arched as another cradled her breasts. Another massaged her ass. Another squeezed her thighs.

  “Mmmoooooo!” Stella moaned, her body a plaything in the throes of the sorceress’s spells. She whimpered and panted. Her fingers moving faster against her cunt. Her body rocking with delight.

  “Mmm. Looks like my pretty slut likes that,” Reegan crooned.

  Stella could only whimper in agreement as her ass was parted. As that ghostly touch slid against her puckered back door. She threw herself desperately into licking out her mistress, her tongue stroking her, dampening her, finding that bead at the peak. Teasing her clit from her hood. Her lips locked on that buzzing peak, sucking adoringly.

  “Ohhhh yessssss!” Reegan moaned, her thighs clamping down on Stella’s head, trapping her in the sordid embrace of the sorceress. “Fuck! That’s it. Oh dear gods yes! Deeper. Deeper Stella. Lick me. Suck it. Suck it haaaaard! Yesssss!”

  Her voice rose in a crescendo. Her orgasm so strong Stella could fairly feel it reverberate through her. The busty maid cried out, her lashes fluttering, her thighs quivering as she came with a mind-numbing force.

  Panting, Reegan opened her legs and released Stella’s hair. The young maid tumbled back, her face soaked with the sorceress’s juices, her body jelly with the intensity of her orgasm and the ghostly touches that only now began to fade.

  Reegan smirked at the sight. “Mm. Do hope you enjoyed that, my pretty girl.”

  “Uhhhh huhhhh,” Stella breathlessly managed.

  Reegan laughed. “Good to hear. Now, I’m off. But I know you’ll be reporting back with excellent news before long. Won’t you? Ta.”

  Stella blinked, and the sorceress was gone. Merely the residue of sparks where she once sat, already fading as the spell finished its work. Once she recovered her breath, Stella managed to sit up. The emerald gleamed where Reegan once sat, and Stella couldn’t help but smile as she gathered up that precious stone, and reverently placed it once more in its hiding place within her bed.

  Siege

  Stella tried not to wander the streets of Moskov’s inner districts. Not only because it was almost agonizingly depressing, but because of the danger. A city under siege was never a comforting place. One under siege by monsters, whose aim was nothing less than the extinction of the inhabitants through breeding or bloodletting, even more so.

  She was under no illusions of her situation. Most stayed indoors during the day, but supplies were running low, and those who’d lost themselves to despair might take any risk. Not to mention do most anything. So many refugees had somehow managed to find their ways into the walls before the camps were overrun. They filled the alleys and squares, begging for food, cowering in shadows as the howls and screams of the monster hordes beyond the walls rang out in horrid reminder of the fate awaiting them. Of the day the walls would fall, and they would be at the mercy of monsters. And too many knew what such a mercy would hold.

  But into the winding, filthy streets Stella had to venture. Her cloak masked her curvy frame. Beneath, she’d traded the revealing silks for simple cloth pants and shirt as she hurried through the avenues and alleyways. Now and then she heard the low thump, and through the sky would sail stones flung by catapults, crashing among the city. More than once she walked past a building crushed beneath such a boulder, the dead left where they lay. There was no need to bury them. All of Moskov would be their tomb.

  She shuddered. Though she loathed the palace and its excesses, the cramped, dark buildings of Moskov’s peasant districts occupied the opposite end of the spectrum. Misery seemed to hang from the sloping roofs as the buildings crowded in, fairly overhanging the streets like arches. She slowed as she neared a square filled with the sagging tents of refugees and the gloom of the living who knew they were dead. She glanced past the encampment to the high form of the walls, where dark shapes of soldiers and the flash of red robes were just visible. Steeling herself, she hurried across the square.

  No one paid her any attention. Their minds were elsewhere. She was starting to feel hopeful.

  Then she heard the screech.

  Winged shapes spun down from the heavens, and suddenly everyone was running. Screams erupted all around her. A shadow flashed over her and something wet splashed against her cloak. Stella staggered back as someone knocked into her. She shoved them back, then recoiled as the headless corpse toppled beside her.

  In seconds the square was empty. She looked up, her eyes widening in horror as she saw the harpies swing about in the sky. They screamed, their faces those of beautiful women, their eyes agleam with bloodlust, their mouths filled with needle pointed teeth. They descended once more, shooting down towards her like hawks, bloody talons outstretched.

  Crimson flashed, swiped through one of the bird women. Her face never had a chance to change from its rictus of hate before it fell in two halves. The other harpy flapped her wings frantically, trying to halt her mad descent. She did, and then a ball of fire engulfed her.

  Stella stared, stunned beyond horror as the flaming corpse plummeted to the ground, smashing into the flagstones where it lay still, blackened, talons twitching. The scent of burned feathers and roasting flesh filled the air.

  “Mmm! Charred chicken. My favorite!”

  Stella turned numbly to see two red robed figures cross the square. The first was a woman, her hood thrown back revealing streaming crimson hair. She wore a harlequin mask, her richly embroidered robes tightly outlining a curvy frame.

  “Must you say such things, Viana?” her companion groaned. Stella instantly looked to him. Recognition trickled through her thoughts. He was a large, heavy set man. Not fat but certainly big, something not even his embroidered red robes could hide. He was bald, his mask dour and grim, hands tucked into his sleeves.

  Arven, the ritual master.

  “It’s true. Ha! That should teach them to fly over the walls while the Red Mages rule. Isn’t that right?” Viana said, kicking the burning corpse. “Survival. Of the. Fittest. Bitch!”

  Arven rolled his eyes before glancing towards Stella. “Are you alright?”

  Stella started, yanked back to the present, r
ealizing sharply the opportunity presented to her. “I… Oh gods!’ she gasped, falling against the startled mage. She clung to his robes, her legs nearly giving out, her soft breasts pressed against his front. “I… it was so awful! What happened? Oh gods, it was all… the harpies… I don’t…”

  Arven’s arms instinctively moved around her. “Ah… there, there,” he said, patting her head. “It’s alright now. The monsters are dead. You’re safe. Viana will you stop kicking that thing!”

  “Fine,” the sorceress sighed, planting her hands on her lower back and stretching. She glanced back, smirking at the sight of the pair. “Hmm. Well, I’d best get going. The walls need defending.”

  “Yes. We’d best.”

  Stella’s hands tightened on his robes. “Please,” she whimpered. “Don’t leave. I’m… I’m scared…”

  “Hm?” Arven looked back down at her. “Why? There’s nothing to be scared of. The creatures are dead.”

  Viana laughed. “You idiot.”

  “What?”

  “Oh nothing. Nothing. Here’s a thought. How about you take the nice girl home.”

  Arven’s brow knit. “But… the walls…”

  “They can survive five minutes you goof. Take the poor thing home. Can’t you see how she’s shaking?”

  Arven looked back down. Stella was indeed shaking, a fact which surprised even her. Apparently, the experience had been more horrifying than even she quite realized.

  “Ah,” Arven grunted. “Yes. Perhaps so… Where do you live, miss?”

  “The… the palace…”

  “What? Then why the devil are you out here?”

  Stella blushed. “I… I needed to get out of there. Just for a little while. I needed to… to see my family. Make sure they were alright… I didn’t want my little sister in there. Not with…”

  Arven’s lips tightened. “Hm. Yes. Quite so. Very well.”

  Stella barely had a moment to blink before the sorcerer swept his robe up, blinding her for a moment. She felt the ground beneath her feet shift suddenly, the crude flagstones of the square gone, replaced by the softness of grass. Arven’s robe fluttered back and she looked about, stunned to find herself back in one of the palace’s many gardens, the flowers blooming regardless of season, cared for by the sorceries that maintained the wonder of the palace.

  “Ah,” she breathed. “The Eastern Gardens…”

  “Yes,” Arven said. “Do you know your way back from here?”

  “Oh! Of course. The servant’s quarters aren’t far at all. Thank you so much, my lord. For everything.”

  Arven cleared his throat. “Oh, no need to thank me. I was just…”

  “Please,” Stella said softly, her hands tightening on his robe. “I really do appreciate it. Having such a strong… powerful man defending the city. It’s… it’s comforting to know such men still exist among humanity.”

  Her hands glided down his chest. For the first time Arven really looked at her. She caught how his eyes moved, tracing her figure, just visible through the clothes she wore. Stella aided him in this, pushing up her breasts and looking soulfully into his eyes. She wondered at the man behind that dour mask. Was he handsome? Or ugly?

  “My lord,” she breathed. “Might… might I see you again?”

  “Again? Oh, I don’t know. I am so very busy…”

  “Please?” Stella murmured, her hips moving side to side. She almost blushed at how wantonly she was throwing herself at him, but if that’s what it took… “It will be so comforting to know that… such a man keeps this city safe. Keeps me safe. Perhaps… perhaps I could help you relax. When you have the opportunity…”

  Arven cleared his throat. His tongue flicked out unbidden. “Well, I ah… suppose I could. Perhaps.”

  “Stella,” she said. “My name is Stella. I live in the servant’s quarters. Please. If ever you want to see me, feel free to call on me.”

  “I will… keep that in mind.”

  Stella beamed. “Thank you, my lord,” she said. “For everything.”

  Then, before he could react, she leaned up and gave him a quick kiss on the lips beneath his mask. Before he could recover she had whirled about, fairly dancing towards the doors into the palace. She stopped just long enough to glance back, smile warmly, and then vanished into the palace, leaving the wizard standing, stunned, in the middle of the flowering gardens.

  Reunions

  “Would milord care for a snack?”

  The thin noble merely grunted, so deep within the lethargy of his smoke he didn’t even seem aware of her presence. Stella passed him by, smiling brightly at everyone in the room. Her head was starting to ache thanks to the smoke and the general endless stimuli of the room. She knew some of her coworkers took the same things their ‘masters’ did if only to get through the day, but she balked at that. Better to be aware of the world crashing down than kill her consciousness in the depravity of the palace.

  “Oooh, a lovely one!”

  Stella squeaked as an arm looped around her waist and tugged her down. Somehow she managed to avoid spilling the sweetmeats on her platter as she bounced onto the cushions gathered in a corner of the hall.

  “Mmm. A lovely example,” said a woman so painted with rouge it looked like a child had done her makeup.

  “Of course, my dear,” a short man with a thin mustache said. He was the one who’d tugged her down, his eyes squinting and his toadying smile sending a shiver of disgust down her spine. “In this heaven, we must all keep such beauties at hand.”

  Stella’s smile grew a little strained. She giggled. “Oh, masters. Please! I need to deliver these lovely snacks to your fellow revellers.”

  “No need for that,” the painted woman sighed. Her leg came up, kicking the platter, sending the chocolates and meats skidding across the floor. “There. All done.”

  Stella’s heart clenched at the waste of food, the image of the starving peasants in the square flashing in her mind. She forced herself to giggle. “So it is! I suppose I will need to get some more…”

  The man’s arm held her down when she tried to rise. “Oh dear,” he said, his smile oozing. “You are quite eager to go. Do you not enjoy our company?”

  “Surely that can’t be so,” the painted woman crooned.

  Stella glanced between them, still smiling, but unease strained the corners of her lips. She realized suddenly the danger presenting itself to her. Though many in the nobility had become drunken with excess, oftentimes those wills manifested in cruelties worse than the foulest of monsters. The nobility of Istanov had never exactly been known for excesses of restraint. But as many realized the situation they were in. That their deaths were inevitable, and would be far from merciful, to the point even the veneer of noblesse oblige was stripped away. Anger, grief, and powerlessness came out in many forms.

  In truth, the excesses of pleasures enjoyed in the halls of the palace were a mild thing compared to some others. For some could only find their delights in venal cruelty and the pain of the helpless. The dungeons of the palace had become a dark realm for such things, where screams were broken only by moans of ecstasy, the crack of whips, and the sizzle of burning flesh.

  Stella knew too well she had no power here. That no one in the palace cared if she were harmed or not. She was trapped. She squirmed. “Oh no, master. Mistress. I was only… I am more than pleased to have more time to attend to you both.”

  “Of course, you are,” the woman crooned, curling a lock of Stella’s hair in a finger. Her clownish makeup twisted in cruelty as she gave a yank, causing Stella to cry out softly in pain. “What could so lowly a girl as you desire more?”

  “Too true, sweetness,” the man chortled. “But maybe she’d concerned that someone might trip over the food and break their neck.”

  “Gods, Rickard. Wouldn’t that be hilarious!”

  The pair burst into peals of shrill laughter. Stella forced herself to join them, her stomach twisting into knots of fear.

  “Here,
” the painted woman said, yanking Stella by the hair, throwing her to the floor. “If she is so concerned with the food, then she should clean it up. Shouldn’t she?”

  “How right you are, my dear,” Rickard tittered, touching his nose to his partner’s.

  The woman smirked and delivered a stinging blow to Stella’s rump. “Hurry up!”

  Stella jumped, her naked rump reddened and stinging. On hands and knees she hastily began to gather up the scattered foodstuffs, shovelling them onto the plate.

  She squeaked as she felt a pair of hands once more of her shapely bottom. “Mm. Such a toned young rear,” the painted woman said, her hands massaging her ass. “So firm and youthful.”

  “Oh darling, you always had a weakness for the young ones.”

  “Can you blame me, dear? They are simply so… appealing…”

  Stella bit her lip, tense as she felt the woman’s warm breath caress the crease of her bum. Fingers hooked on her girdle and gave a tug, pulling down the silken garment, baring her ass and quim entirely. “Mmm. Simply delightful…” the painted woman breathed as she parted Stella’s cheeks, baring her dark star.

  “My dear! Are you going to kiss the ass of a peasant?”

  “Would you prefer to do it, Rickard?”

  “My dear, I would much rather kiss yours.”

  She laughed, a sound that jarred down Stella’s spine like steel balls through a pipe.

  “Please, masters,” Stella said, glancing over her shoulder with a straining smile. “I need to serve the other guests…”

  The woman’s smudged makeup creased. Her hand came up and down with another stinging impact on Stella’s bottom. “Sluts. Should mind. Their. Betters!”

  Stella’s hands tightened on the floor, her ass stinging with every painful blow. Rickard laughed, kicking the cushions with delight. “Oh my darling! You can be so cruel!”

  “She hasn’t seen cruel yet,” the woman said. She grabbed Stella’s hair, yanking, forcing the girl’s head back with a gasp of pain. “You’re here to serve. And you’ll serve us. But not here.”