The Pillaging of an Empire

by Amanda Clover

  The woman lowered her arms. Turned to Vilti. “Now,” she said. “Where were we? Oh right! You were going to fuck me and breed me into your personal bitch, weren’t you?”

  Vilti swung his head about to face the crimson woman. “What? N-no! That not me. That… that someone else!”

  “Oh was it?” she said, smirking.

  “Er, yes! That other gertling. It not me!”

  “Oh?” she said, pushing her slippered foot forward, pushing the toe against his loin cloth and the warty cock beneath. “Are you suuuure? Are you positive you didn’t want to fuck me raw with this little cock?”

  Vilti whimpered as her foot stroked his cock through his loincloth. “Mnnnn!” the gertling groaned. “Nooooo!”

  “No what? No it wasn’t you? Or no you don’t want me to bend over and let your fuck my plush bottom? Hm? Think hard now.”

  Vilti whimpered as his cock hardened to the touch of her foot. He wriggled beneath her punishing toes, growing more and more aroused with every passing moment of his torture. “Ooooh! Me… me not gertling! He uh… he run away!”

  “Oh. That’s such a shame! And here I am, a helpless slut. Just waiting to be fucked by such a tiny little gertling cock. Oh woe is me!”

  Vilti bit his lip at her cruel smirk as her foot pressed down more firmly on his warty cock. As the stink of the orc’s burning corpse and the crackle of the dying flames assailed him. He whimpered, unable not to rock his hips, stroking his cock beneath her foot. “Me… me not him! Maybe… maybe me go and f-find him!”

  “Oh would you? That’s so very kind of you,” the woman in red cackled.

  “Nnnnn!” Vilti squealed as he came, his cock spurting into his ratty loincloth, dampening the fabric with his wasted seed.

  The red woman laughed as she removed her foot from his cock. “Awwww. Look at that! I guess you really aren’t the gertling who wanted to breed my pussy. Because he surely wouldn’t have gotten off by being masturbated by some woman’s foot. Would he?”

  “N-no! He not!” Vilti panted, hastily scrambling to his feet, but he didn’t run, though every instinct screamed for him to do it. Running would be suicide. Some instinct of his wretched ancestry told him that to run in the face of a sadist like this would guarantee an amazingly painful death, much to her amusement.

  The red woman smirked. “Alright. You go find me him, then.”

  Vilti gaped. “R-really?”

  “Oh yes,” she said. “Run along. Not like it’ll matter in a few minutes. Go on. Here. Let me help you get started.”

  Vilti turned about, just in time for her slippered foot to kick him in the rear. The gertling squealed in pain as he tumbled down the hall, managing to scramble to his feet a moment later and run desperately down the corridor, around the corner, and away deeper into the palace complex.

  Emperor’s Blood

  Viana watched the gertling run away with a smirk. She did lover her job. Speaking of, she should get back to that. She turned, stepping over the charred corpse of the orc that had sought to attack her, and strode away and down the corridor.

  She probably shouldn’t have wasted so much time on that gertling. But really. When would be the next time she’d get to torment some micro-penis bearing creature? Besides, what was the point of power if you didn’t use it to have fun! It was the whole reason she became a Red Mage, after all. It surely wasn’t for working with the idiot nobility of Istanov and listening to the dull lessons of the tutors.

  She yawned, flicking a finger and sending a serpent of flame coiling around the wulfen who was hiding around the corner. She passed him by as the wolf-man howled in pain and struggled with the burning serpent as it bit his throat. There were a lot of monsters in the palace. She really hoped she wasn’t too late. Strakken would have her ass if she were…

  She increased her pace, jogging down the corridor, her robes flapping about her. The sounds of battle hadn’t reached this part of the palace yet. The place was such a maze it could take weeks for the monsters to explore every room. She brightened as she reached a familiar corridor, and shoved open the waiting door.

  The incense and scent of sex was still insufferably thick. She gagged as she made her way into the chamber of the emperor. Androse was still on his throne, naked as he rutted with a serving girl. The emperor raised his eyes as she arrived, a drunken grin splitting his bearded face.

  “Mage! So good to see you!”

  “And you, Androse,” Viana said, grabbing his arm. “Come on! The ritual is ready. We just need your help to finish it.”

  “You do?” he said, blinking.

  “Of course! You don’t think we’d be able to cast the spell to save Istanov without the emperor, do you?”

  “Oh. Oh! Of course!” Androse laughed, shoving the woman he’d been fucking off his cock. “Of course I’ll come. Where… where is my armor? My robe!”

  “Probably in your chambers. Which is probably filled with imps tearing them apart.”

  “Oh. Oh yes, yes. Of course. But… Aha!” Grabbing a curtain, he tore it off its rungs, wrapping it around his portly frame like a toga. He threw back his head, grinning at his own genius. “Lead on!” he said, gesturing imperiously. “Lead on! Friends! Nobles! I go forth to save our empire!”

  Nobody bothered to cheer, but Androse didn’t seem to notice as he stumbled towards the exit of the room. Viana sighed, eyes rolled towards the ceiling before she followed him, giving him an encouraging push down the right direction.

  There was nothing like the threat of imminent and violet death to sober someone up, and as Viana guided the empire through the halls and past mangled corpses, some clarity returned to Androse’s face. His steps became less staggering, and soon enough he was chasing after her at nearly a run. The corridors of the palace twisted before them, until at last they moved down a set of passages untainted by ruin of blood. Viana breathed a sigh of relief as the massive doors to the inner sanctum of the Red Mages loomed ahead. She hastily etched the unlocking spell, the great clockwork mechanism groaning as it came to life and eased slowly open.

  Androse stumbled after her and into the inner chamber, his mouth agape in awe as he looked about the blindingly impossible chamber. The floor of glass carved with dizzying runic designs. The heavens of the room lost in darkness and the shine of magic like gleaming stars.

  Strakken turned as they entered. Good. You’ve arrived.

  “As requested, one emperor of Istanov,” Viana said, pushing Androse towards the masked mage. The emperor staggered forward a step, belatedly wiping his mouth and smoothing out his makeshift toga, which did absolutely nothing to hide the filth about him. In fact, it merely smeared it further about his unkempt beard.

  “Strakken. I am ready for… for my part in saving my empire!”

  We’re not saving it.

  Androse blinked. “Hm?”

  Strakken began to walk slowly about the room, his burning red eyes trained on the designs as he did a final inspection on the work. Androse hurried after him, Viana meandering behind them both with a smirk of amusement.

  The empire is lost, Androse. After your defeat in the woods, it was a foregone conclusion. But we had some hopes your sister might have been able to turn it about. Naturally she didn’t, but she gave us the time needed.

  “Of course!” Androse scoffed. “That slut hadn’t a prayer!”

  Incorrect. But quite beside the point.

  “It is?” Androse said.

  “Duh,” Viana said.

  As Viana so eloquently put. We are long past the possible. When your sister battled the Duke of Ashes, we came to realize she was a warrior bred and true. That she would never stop fighting the Duke of Ashes until her last breath. We decided this was counterproductive. We required time. And so, it behooved us to allow the Duke to rampage across Istanov. To throw his armies against the hold outs, wasting his time to crush every human bastion instead of having the entirety of Istanov’s army die in one last glorious charge.

  “I… see,”
Androse said, tugging his toga as it dragged on the floor behind him. “And how will this spell save Istanov?”

  As I said, we are long past saving Istanov. We are going to destroy it.

  Androse stumbled. “Wh-what!”

  Quite so. Strakken paused, peering at one of the engravings, tapping a gloved finger against his mask. At last, seemingly satisfied, he continued moving.

  “W-wait. Wait! What do you mean destroyed?” Androse demanded, hastening after the robed figure.

  Just that. Long before Istanov was founded, the land here was utterly destroyed. Wiped clean in a great holocaust of magic that scoured the land of life and its ability to hold it. It took centuries for the land to regenerate, and by then, the invaders who had come were long dead, buried, or drifted elsewhere.

  “It’ll kill us all!” Androse bleated in horror.

  Incorrect. Again. It would have been simple to cast the spell once more. But we needed time to refine it. To save some from the end which is coming to Istanov. To save us. This spell shall not only destroy Istanov, but send us to a land removed from it. A realm distant and where we can survive and thrive. A realm where we can wait to return, and build a new kingdom from the ashes.

  “Oh,” Androse said, and Viana could practically see the wheels in his head turn to figure that out. At last it clicked, and Androse smiled broadly. “Then, I will have a chance to build a new empire. One more in my image! A realm worthy of my greatness!”

  Yes. That idea is why we chose you over your sister. We knew your survival instincts would keep you in Moskov and in the center of the spell, whereas your sister would eagerly ride down the throat of the monster hordes. We chose well.

  “Of course! The emperor is like the king in chess. If it is taken, all lose!”

  Surprisingly astute, Strakken said, stopping in the central design carved in the glass floor, their reflections shimmering. But you forgot one thing.

  “What?”

  We’ve already lost.

  Androse turned as Viana whipped the dagger from her belt and plunged it into his stomach. Androse gasped, doubling over in pain, eyes bugging as his blood spurted onto the designs wrought in the floor.

  Designs which seemed to hungrily suck in the blood, and begin to glow.

  Ah, Strakken said, tilting back his hooded head, the glow beginning to radiate from the designs washing over his mask.

  “Oooh,” Viana said, yanking the knife from Androse and looking at the ceiling. The designs slowly began to pulse. The glow turning crimson as it refracted through the glass floor, washing over the walls and illuminating the spiralling signs worked into the surface long ago. The motes of magic that hung like stars turned black. The room began to shake.

  Strakken raised his arms. The Red Mages gathered about the walls began to trace designs into the air.

  It ends.

  The Tower

  Vilti groaned in despair, dragging his feet down another corridor. His life was such a fucking misery. This was such a mistake. He never should have come to the palace. Hells, he shouldn’t have left the woods. Sure, it wasn’t a great life scrounging for roots and rabbits, but at least he didn’t have to deal with psychotic mages in red and murder happy orcs. He looked around blearily. And to make matters worse, he was lost!

  Oh, why did bad things always happen to him. “Life not fair,” the gertling moaned as he plodded down the gleaming hall.

  “At last.”

  Vilti stopped at the voice and turned, pulled up short by the sight of the beauty standing a few feet away. She was curvy, a fact made amply clear by the leather straps which were all she wore, framing her plump breasts and gusset of her cunny, as if she were already bound up in a slave’s bindings. Her hair was done up in a pony tail and her eyes were bright with delight, her lips parted in a smile.

  “At last,” she said again, stepping out of the hidden passage opened in the wall. “You’ve come.”

  Vilti looked about, then pointed at himself. “Me?”

  “Yes! Finally. We’ve been waiting so long, monster. We’ve suffered so much in our patience, but at last it shall pay off.”

  “Um. What you say?”

  She giggled. “Of course. How could you have known? We’ve been unable to communicate with the world beyond the walls. But we knew you would come. A messenger to bring us forward into the new age. The age of the monster.

  “Don’t worry,” she said, kneeling before Vilti. “We have kept ourselves pure when we heard of the advance of the monsters. No weak, human seed has touched our bodies. Here,” she said, pushing out her chest. “Feel them, oh master. Feel the softness which we’ve saved for your kind.”

  Vilti glanced about warily. Was this another trick? It had to be. But her breasts were right there. The nipples pierced with diamonds. Quivering with her panting breaths. Well, if it was a trap, then at least he’d go out doing what he loved. Vilti carefully reached forward and cupped her breasts.

  “Oooooh,” the beauty moaned as Vilti’s hands sank into her plump teats. “Master. Yesssss.”

  “Lovely breasts,” Vilti breathed as he massaged her soft mounds.

  “Oh yes, master. I knew you would love them. We have been careful to gather the most beautiful for this day. The most lovely. We’ve been waiting with such anticipation.”

  “Waiting?” Vilti said as his hands continued to massage those tender orbs.

  “Yes,” she gasped. “For the coming of the monster. For the day we could leave behind… nnn… behind the shackles of humanity. For the day we could offer up our bodies. Our wombs to be bred by the new race.”

  “Uh huh,” Vilti said, enraptured by the feel of the woman’s breasts. He paused, blinked and looked to her face. “Wait. Breed?”

  “Yessss,” she groaned as his knobby fingers tweaked diamond studded nipples, her lashes fluttering with adoration. “We’ve been preparing to bring forth the new masters of the world into being. Our bodies are ready, master. Our wombs need your seed. We need the curse of the monster upon us. We need the brand of the eye. We need you to fuck us.”

  “Us?”

  “Us, master. Twenty of the loveliest daughters of Istanov’s nobility. We have seen the suffering our kind has brought. We understand where we have gone wrong. Our forefathers should never have sought to exterminate the monsters. Our mothers should have offered themselves to the greater glory of your race.”

  “Huh?”

  “Master!” she gasped, suddenly pulling him into her embrace, crushing his face between the soft globes of her ample tits. “Please! Toy with me no longer. I beg of you. Let me take you to my sisters, who yearn for your seed. To bear your pups and be bred with your mighty cock!”

  “Uh… yes! To there!” Vilti gasped.

  “Thank you. Oh, thank you master! You have made slave Dina so happy,” she said, lifting the stunted monster in her arms and carrying him through the door.

  “Slave Dina?”

  “Yes,” she said as the hidden doorway shut behind them, her footsteps up the stairs the only sound in the narrow confines of the secret passage. “We have all given up the names that once defined us, and have taken on new names. The names of the slaves and breeders we will become for you, oh master. I have taken Slave Dina. Unless it pleases you, master, to give me another name.”

  “Er, no. Slave Dina sound good.”

  “I am so happy you are pleased, my master,” Dina giggled.

  Vilti grinned, still more than a little nervous. This felt like another trap. A thought he held onto until Dina opened a door and he saw who lay within.

  Over a dozen women lounged in the room, their dress as revealing as Dina’s. Little more than silks and leathers designed to showcase bodies made of achingly beautiful curves. Plump bottoms and full breasts. Pale skin revealed in teasing flashes between transparent cloth. Pillows were arranged all about the room. Wines were decanted and filled goblets. The air was warm and spiced with perfume.

  “My sisters!” Dina called, stepping into
the room. “Behold! Our destiny has come!”

  Vilti blinked as he was held out to the women. Gasps of delight met his appearance, the curvaceous beauties rising and gathering about him and Dina.

  “Oh he’s so handsome!”

  “So strong!”

  “Look at his cock, sisters! See how hard it is.”

  “And his balls so full of seed. Why, he’ll be able to impregnate us all!”

  Vilti tried to be cynical about it all, but pressed between a dozen beautiful women’s breasts, their fawning voices washing over him in breathless adoration, their curious, gentle, eager hands stroking him so eagerly, not even his bitterness could last.

  The gertling smiled dreamily, letting himself be borne through the room in pampering hands. Laid gently down among cushions so soft he almost vanished in their plush depths.

  “Sisters!” Dina cried, standing by Vilti’s throne and raising her hand. “Sisters! Calm yourself. Our master has come from far and through many dangers in order to breed us. To make us true monster slaves! And he must have the first decision. Master,” Dina said, kneeling beside his throne of downy softness, gesturing to the room. “Who among us shall you have please you first?”

  Vilti looked out over the crowd of women as they kneeled on the floor before him, heads bowed submissively, even as each in turn sought to push out breasts, ass and blushing beauty to better earn his attention. Vilti licked his lips, for the first time unsure what he should do first. Such ample opportunity to be so depraved. To denigrate such lovely women and breed them with his pups. His warty cock was already rock hard and twitching, tenting his filthy loincloth.

  “I take all!” Vilti cried.

  Dina beamed down at him. “So wise, master! Sisters!” she cried, gesturing to them. “Our master shall take us all. Tonight! We shall be bred by our magnanimous master. Slave Beati! You may have his cock within your cunt first.”