The Pillaging of an Empire
Page 82
“Darling. Whatever are you thinking?”
Stella shivered as the noblewoman’s fingernail slid along her cheek, down it, the sensation like the edge of a knife against her flesh. “Perhaps the poor thing needs a different venue to serve us. Perhaps,” her painted lips hissed an inch from Stella’s ear. “She would like a tour of the dungeon and the many ways she could serve us there…”
Stella shuddered. “M-mistress, master. I…”
“Don’t be shy,” Rickard chortled. “My darling is so skilled with the fleshing blades. Why, you’ll be screaming with delight by the time we’re done.”
“Too true. And they say the blood of a young maiden is so good for the skin…”
Stella cried out as the woman stood, yanking the serving girl to her feet. Rickard giggled in delight, his hands clapping together as he rose with her. The woman forced Stella forward, marching her towards the nearest set of doors. Stella’s eyes flashed about for some hope of aid, but the only ones who bothered to notice from the depths of their pleasures merely smiled or laughed, some even tipping goblets towards them in greeting.
The doors opened and they were moving down the hall. Stained glass flashed across her skin as she was forced towards a set of stairs. Stella’s nose twitched at the scent of misery and blood which wafted from those dark depths. Her skin crawled and her blood turned to ice.
“Lord Rickard. Lady Hasp. What are you doing?”
Rickard and his lover froze. Despite the way it pulled on her hair, Stella turned her head. Her heart flew into her throat at the sight of the bald, red robed figure standing not far. Arven’s eyes moved slowly between the three.
“Ah. Master Arven,” Rickard said, his slur gone as if the presence of the man had wrung every drop of wine from him. “What brings you to the halls of the palace?”
Arven’s eyes turned to Rickard. “You presume to ask my business?”
Rickard’s smile wavered like the ripples of a pond. He seemed to shrink into himself before the robed figure. Stella felt Lady Hasp stiffen as the red mage looked her way.
“We… we were merely taking this girl to teach her some proper manners. That’s all. Surely not something that would concern a Red Mage,” Hasp said.
Arven slowly walked towards them. Stella whimpered as the two nobles retreated, dragging the girl with them and to the wall. The bald man seemed to tower over the three.
“You seem well versed in our business,” Arven said, his voice as frigid as the northern wastes. “And our concerns.”
“I…”
Rickard grabbed his lover’s arm, his fingers digging in as he hissed a warning.
“You… you would not dare do anything…” Lady Hasp whispered.
Rickard moaned in despair as Arven’s eyes narrowed. His hand reached out and engulfed Hasp’s face. The noblewoman stiffened. Her mouth fell open, her body quivered like it was made of gelatin.
And changed.
Stella squaked as the fingers in her hair receded, twisting and growing warts. She spun about, taking a few steps back, her eyes wide with horror as Hasp squirmed, her body compacting, her skin turning green and warty, her whole body soon vanishing in the grasp of the sorcerer.
Arven turned to Rickard and dropped into the stunned noble’s hands a toad, its face still marked with blotchy makeup.
“Three days as this should teach her respect. I trust you’ll look after her,” Arven said.
Rickard’s ashen face was all the answer the sorcerer needed as he turned, robes rustling as he grabbed Stella’s shoulder. The serving girl didn’t resist as he guided her down the corridor, her mind numbed by the rapid events of the last few moments.
Arven said nothing as he shoved open a door and led her inside. Stella came to herself abruptly, looking around, her mouth opening in awe.
They stood in a domed chamber, the ceiling a menagerie of painted glass that spilled down crimson, gold and violet light, washing over innumerable shelves of books. Spiralling beakers and glass tubing bridged the spaces between dozens of desks. A chunk of masonry written in strange designs and symbols consumed a far wall, while steps descended to a central ring in the middle of the floor. There strange symbols had been etched in chalk and powder. Geometric designs of such complexity and oddity that it made Stella’s eyes hurt just to look at them.
“Here,” Arven said, easing her onto a small bed in the corner.
“Is this your room?”
“My workshop. At times I don’t sleep much.”
“Ah. Um, thank you. Master mage. I don’t…”
Arven grimaced. “Once, the nobility of Istanov were great. Most cared well for their people. Now…” He rubbed his chin. “You may stay here, for the time being. And, perhaps, for the future. I don’t for a moment believe Rickard is so stupid as to take revenge on you. But these days, one never knows.”
Stella opened her mouth. Closed it. “Th-thank you, my lord,” she finally said. “I don’t…”
Arven looked at her again, then coughed. “I ah… There is no need…”
Stella tilted her head, then looked down at herself. She realized that, save for the silk ribbons on her wrists, ankles, and the two metal caps which masked her plump nipples, she was entirely naked, her quim bared, her stinging bottom deprived of even the cord of her girdle. She felt her face warm.
A warmth, she couldn’t fail to notice, that spread through her in ways quite familiar. Pooling in her stomach. Tingling in her core. She batted her lashes at the mage. “My lord,” she said softly, sliding off the bed and to her knees before him. “Let me… repay you for your kindness.”
“There’s ah… there’s no need,” Arven said, his hands fluttering uncertainly.
“I disagree, sire,” Stella said, her hands moving against his robes, finding the threads which bound it shut and easing them open, revealing his pants and the unmistakeable bulge within. “When a man has saved a woman from torture and death, she should repay him. And I can think of no better way… than this…”
With expert skill she unlaced his pants, his cock bursting free. Her eyes glittered as she took him in her hands, feeling him harden further at her touch. His next words ended in a groan as she silenced his protests with his cock in her mouth.
“Ooooh,” Arven moaned.
Stella couldn’t help but giggle as she began to bob, her tongue dancing around his length. Men. Even the mightiest were putty with a pair of soft lips around their cock. Not that she was complaining. It just felt so good to finally have a choice of who she would service. And the fact she hadn’t been shoved into his crotch and ordered to suck his chubby cock was all the better.
“Mnnn,” Stella moaned, her lashes fluttering, her hand moving between his legs, cupping his balls as she hollowed her cheeks for better suction. It felt oddly good to do this. To be in charge of offering pleasure for once. So long it had been a matter of survival. Of contractual pleasure. She’d been more a whore than a woman. Yet now.
Now…
She felt Arven’s hands on her head. For a moment she feared he was going to push her off, but she smiled when instead he merely urged her on. To suck harder. More eagerly. Her head bobbed with pleasured servitude. Her hands fondling his balls with the skill of a Shadobbar courtesan. It felt good. It felt right. She felt his seed churn. Knew he was close. Her lashes fluttered as Arven gave a moan, his balls tightening as he came.
She swallowed his seed as it pumped into her warm mouth. Her moan rose in a heady cry as he filled her mouth to the brim. At last, when his cock wilted between her lips, she eased back, sliding her lips down his cock until it popped from her mouth. Her tongue slid along her lips as she gazed up at him with a smoky look.
“Thank you, sire.”
Arven’s bald head was flushed. He cleared his throat. “My ah… pleasure.”
She giggled. “My lord,” she said, standing and pushing her soft bottom onto the bed. She parted her thighs, baring her slick folds. “Would you like to claim my pussy?”
“My lord,” Stella said, reaching between her thighs, sliding her finger up and down her slit. “There is nothing I would love more than feeling you inside me. Fucking me with your mighty cock.”
Arven laughed hoarsely. “You make a compelling case.”
“Passion has that effect,” she said with a soft giggle. “Now please,” she said, grabbing her hips, pulling them up until both her asshole and cunt were fully exposed, vulnerable, eager. “Take me.”
There really was no argument for such an invitation. Arven’s cock certainly made none, stiffening once more at the lurid sight. The red mage moved forward, grasping her legs. Stella moaned as his modest cock rubbed against her damp cunt. As he pushed forward, filling her.
“Oooooh,” she moaned, head falling back as Arven began to move, thrusting at first slowly, then faster. Faster. His stomach slapped against her breasts, the gold which capped her nipples flashing as her shapely bosom bounced with every smack of his hips on hers.
“Yesssss!” she cried, her hands tightening, digging in to her soft thighs. “Oh gods yes! My lord, harder! Fuck me harder! Take me! Tame me!”
“Gods, woman! You’re insatiable!” Arven gasped.
“Oh I am! I’m just your eager servant! Oh my lord! My master! Fuck me hard! Fuck me raw! Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck meeeeee!”
She came, her pussy shuddering around his cock, her voice rising in a keening moan of utter delight. Arven groaned as her inner walls massaged his cock, stroking him in ways that made him tighten in pleasure, hilt within her.
And cum.
Stella moaned as his hot seed spurted into her welcoming cunt. She continued to rock against him. Continued to be fucked by him until his cock softened within her. When at last, with a heady sigh, he pulled free from her pussy, Stella released her legs, falling back onto the bed, sweat gleaming on her brow and shapely form.
“Ah… Ha… th-thank you… my lord,” she gasped.
“My pleasure,” Arven wheezed. He looked her over, eyes taking in her buxom beauty as she lay before him, soft and shapely and oh so willing. “Perhaps… perhaps it would be best if you did not rejoin the… revelries of the nobility for a time.”
“Oh?” Stella said, propping herself up and looking at him quizzically. “But my lord, if I do not serve them, how will I stay in the palace?”
“You may stay here,” Arven said. “I will speak to the head butler and inform him of your change in duties. I could use someone to… hm… clean here now and then.”
Stella giggled, cupping her breasts and lifting them tantalizingly. “Among other things?”
Arven flushed. “Yes. Among… other things.”
Stella laughed, and after a moment even Arven couldn’t suppress a smile, laughing with her, the sound tinkling off the jars and glass like rain falling on chimes.
Research
Everything Stella knew of Istanov’s palace told her that she would be Arven’s whore. His slut. His bitch. Restraint was an alien idea in the halls of the debauched castle, where pleasure came above all else. Depravity ruled. Every day that she walked to Arven’s workshop she was presented with further scenes of that descent. Of revellers cheering and playing with each other and their servants. Of moans and cries of pain and pleasure in equal measure.
And yet, like an isle of calm in a sea of madness, Arven’s chambers were never touched by such scenes. He seemed immune or uninterested to the almost desperate parties the nobility engaged in. In fact, she found that more often than not, she had to engage him to have him fuck her.
That said, she was hardly complaining when he did.
It had been a long time since someone had given a damn for Stella’s pleasure. Yet Arven was a passionate lover. Happy to ensure she was enjoying herself as much as he was. His hands were surprisingly adept at stroking her. Teasing her. Lifting her generous breasts and removing the golden caps which hid her nipples away, then toying with those oh so sensitive buds. Nor was he shy when it came to kissing her, even being willing to tongue out her slick cunny before he fucked her.
For her part, Stella found herself equally eager to play with him. To let him fill her pussy with his cock, pounding her into the bed as she moaned. But this was rare. For Arven was ever working at his desk, and it took some doing to draw him away.
As she walked down the halls of the palace, Stella was thinking on that subject in particular, and with some intent. It had been some time since she’d called on Reegan. Normally Stella would be eager for the touch of the sorceress. But since she’d been given her mission to seduce Arven, she had been reluctant to open that line of communication.
But the night before she had opened the door to her bedroom and saw the sorceress sitting on the bed, idly tapping a foot in expectation.
“Stella,” she’d said, her eyes smoldering. “How good of you to join me.”
“Mistress! What… why are you here?”
“Is there something the matter with me visiting?” Reegan had said, rising and swaying towards her like a cobra.
“N-no,” Stella had gasped as the sorceress came before her, standing above her, gaze imperious in that way that made Stella’s stomach flip flop. “Just… I didn’t summon…”
“You didn’t think my jewel only worked one way, did you? Oh dear,” Reegan sighed, her arms slipping around Stella’s shoulders, drawing the other woman in close. The sorceress’s fingers teased Stella’s hair. “You did, didn’t you. My dear girl. That would be stupid in the extreme. Why, what if you were in danger? What if,” she purred, her eyes sharpening, “you neglected to message me for nearly a week. I might get worried, you know.”
Stella could still remember the feeling of the sorceress’s arms around her. Still smell that cloying perfume reminiscent of Shaboddar. A sensation that tingled down to Stella’s toes and made her heart quicken and quim slicken.
“Mistress…”
“Let’s hear something good,” Reegan had said.
Stella had spilled all she had. It wasn’t much, but she had taken opportunities now and again to look through Arven’s papers and query him while he worked. Not intently. No. She’d been too busy feeling him out at first.
And yet, in Reegan’s arms, feeling the sorceress’s silken gown and the softness of the other woman’s breasts, Stella had told all she knew. Reegan took it in, her eyes soon growing disinterested and her lips puckering.
“Enough,” she’d said at last. “Seems you haven’t been working too hard for me, have you?”
“M-mistress. I would never… I serve you, of course!”
“Mmm. Not too well so far. I know the Red Mages are up to something, pet. And I need to find out. You mentioned he’s at his desk working on something big? Find out what.”
“He… he rarely leaves his desk, mistress.”
“Is that so? Well, I imagine you’ll be able to think up something to get him away.” Reegan’s hand had moved down Stella’s body, tracing the curve of a breast, the slimness of her stomach, before at last reaching Stella’s quim. The serving girl’s cunny tingled with the memory of that sinful touch. Sliding up and down the gusset of her panties, tracing the outline of her pussy and how her juices moistened the silken girdle that she wore.
“M-mistress…”
“Or perhaps,” Reegan had murmured, pressing herself harder against Stella, lips an inch away from hers. “You need some… inspiration.”
Stella hadn’t been able to refuse. She wondered if anyone, man or woman, would be able to refuse the sultry sorceress. Sometimes, Stella wondered if Reegan was really only the court magician of Heimsvak. Or was she the true power behind the throne of that mighty kingdom? It wouldn’t surprise her if the sorceress was. Such a body, such power. Stella doubted any could resist both of those at once.
Stella certainly couldn’t. And when she awoke that morning, she knew with a powerful certainty that today she would discover something of worth for Reegan. Even though a lump formed in her throat at the thought of doing it to Arven, she soothed her worries with the thought that Reegan likely wouldn’t be able to use it anyway. That odds were it was merely some petty magic that the Red Mages worked on. Arven was a busy man, after all. And if Stella found that his spell was something mundane among wizards, could she be blamed? She had not been trained in the dark arts. Or even to read them. She was merely a serving girl. And she would serve her mistress.
Such thoughts helped her make her way back to Arven’s office. She hadn’t even needed to use the pass he gave her to enter, for no sooner did she near the strange, mighty portal it eased open, admitting her at once.
Arven sat within and at his desk, one hand raised in mid gesture. As she entered he flicked his hand again, and the doors shut behind her.
“Good morning, my lord,” she said.
“Mm.” He didn’t look up, intent on a scroll laid out before him. Stella said nothing, but did smile at the sight of that studious bald head bent in concentration. She slipped along the side and to the cot, settling her soft bottom on the gentle mattress, clasping her hands together to mask her nervousness.
“What are you working on, my lord?” she asked.
Arven lifted his head at her question. His eyes were distant behind the half-moon glasses he wore, still thinking on whatever he had been writing.
Stella smiled from the bed. The simple cloak that masked her curves rustled as she crossed a leg, tilting her head at him. “You’re always so busy, my lord. What is it you’re working on?”
“Oh. Yes. A spell, my dear. Something the higher order has been very keen on, of late.”
“Has it?”
“Hm. Yes.”
“Must be quite important if the Red Mages have put you on the task.”
Arven laughed softly. “Extremely, my dear. This is a work of magic our order has been interested in for many years.”