Laurana yawned as she walked through the still night air. Below her at the foot of the hill lay a small town only known to her as Point Seven. It was one of the many towns that formed the hub of trade in this area of the plains and was vital to the campaign leading to Neraka.
There had been fierce resistance by the Dragon Army. More than half of the town was blackened ruins just now being dusted by a film of white snow from the cloudy sky. The snow soon melted and ran down in gritty black streams to puddle on stone floors and foundations still hot to the touch from the fireballs that had leveled them.
The elven princess and now Golden General pulled her cloak closer around her body and watched as her breath steamed in the night air. Sentries saluted silently as she passed through the cordon surrounding the command center and walked down a beaten muddy path towards the town.
Her boots splashed mud as she reached the town gate, now lying in pieces. She could hear the sound of men laughing and singing from the remaining buildings. Luckily enough of the town had survived to house her troops until they moved out in a couple days.
Laurana stopped at the town square and looked around approvingly. While there were groups of men gathered around cooking fires and quite a few more stumbling drunkenly from building to building or huddled around loud games of cards or dice, there was none of the�debauchery that usually accompanied an army.
She had forbidden camp followers and issued orders to each of her officers to make sure that no loose women were allowed contact with the soldiers. She had also ordered that the soldiers make no contact with the civilian residents of the areas they were liberating. Drinking and gambling were quite enough without having to worry about whores distracting the soldiers.
She smiled to herself as she walked through the square and past the lighted buildings surrounding it. The men followed her with adoring gazes, whispering to each other as she passed and saluting or nodding to her as necessary. Yes, ensure that debauchery and carnal temptations were removed and the men became a superbly moral and disciplined force.
She sniffed to herself as she passed through to the square and into the periphery of the still intact area. She wasn't going to let her men turn into degenerates and barbarians. No, they would not chase after any woman who wiggled her rear at them. They'd have standards, they'd know how to treat a woman. They'd learn or by the gods she'd have it beaten into them. None of them would go chasing off a woman just because she happened to satisfy one of their perverted fetishes.
Laurana allowed herself to bite down on one thumb pensively as she stood in the half burned ruins of the town's trade district. Yes, this was the right course of action, she thought to herself. While she knew the men had certain�needs, she also knew that upright moral behavior was the foundation of any fighting force. There would be time for�satiating their base desires when they won the war. And it would give the men yet another incentive to bring this conflict to an end quickly, as if the triumph of good and order over the foul forces of evil and chaos wasn't enough of a reason.
She glanced up at that thought and looked down the street towards the edge of town. One building remained intact, a five-story rambling building that housed the town's largest trading station, stables, and inn. It had been the center of trade and had luckily been spared the destruction wrought upon the rest of the town.
Unfortunately, Laurana thought, it had been commandeered by a rather lewd and debauched group of mercenaries she had been forced to hire. The exigencies of war forced certain hard choices and hiring the Triple Rs had been one of them. She wished she could have done without them, but they were accomplished skirmishers and scouts and could even do the duty of a light infantry company if kept together.
The Triple Rs were a motley bunch at best, led by some half-human half-something else commander and formed of members of virtually every race on Krynn. And perhaps some not from Krynn as well.
Laurana
hesitated and looked back towards the center of town. It was really her
responsibility to check in on all of her troops regardless of her opinion of
them. As she looked down the street towards the trading post and heard peals
of drunken laughter and the crash of furniture breaking she made up her mind.
Setting her head at a determined angle and frowning in what she hoped was her
most intimidating manor, she walked towards the trading post.
Ronalg knew the good life when he saw it and felt it. This wasn't it. No whores, no plunder, no booty, no slaves to sell to the highest bidder back on Mithas. The pay was decent enough but the slut bitch whore of a general had forbidden all looting and contact with the civilian population. She would have had Lieutenant Rumgar executed after the minotaur had been found sampling a sweet little merchant's daughter if Ronalg hadn't managed to break the minotaur out of the stockade.
The Dragon Army soldiers they had captured, three female humans, weren't close to enough to make up for all the other looting and pillaging denied them. Currently the three women, two officers, one enlisted, were chained to the far wall of the common room, invisible behind a thick wall of hooting and jeering mercenaries.
"Should have gotten a contract with the other side," Ronalg said into his beer stein. There was a long wail and a round of cheers. Sounded like Miss High-and-Mighty dragon rider getting a cock shoved up her ass. Squeals of pain were barely audible above the cheering and chanting as the mercenaries egged their comrades' acts of violation on. Across the table Rumgar shrugged and tossed back another beer.
"Eh, I heard the Dragon Armies are just as tight-assed about 'discipline' as her royal whoreness," Rumgar said with a shrug. Easy for him to say, Ronalg thought sourly. He'd at least had some pussy in the last three months. And mouth, and arse, if the minotaur's boasts about that merchant's daughter were true. Ronalg wished he could have been first in line to rape one of the Dragon Army women but the men were restless enough already.
Pulling rank would have meant a fight with the horny bastards. He'd just have to settle for sloppy- he counted in his mind and divided by the number of women- thirty-seconds. He grimaced. He'd have the women cleaned out before dividing them up among himself and the two lieutenants sitting with him.
"Sure, but at least they let you choose some of the slaves before they get shipped back to the capital," Rittle said with a wave of his slim, rather pretty hand. "We could triple our money if they'd just pay us in slaves and then we transported them east to sell."
"That easy, huh?" Ronalg said with a beery snarl as he wiped his snout. Listening to the men having their fun with the women was giving him a raging, throbbing erection under the table. He squeezed his beer stein with both hands, leaving dents in the pewter.
Bloody elf, he thought. Most of the men were human or near enough. He was the only hobgoblin in the entire company, he guessed because the rest had been too stupid to avoid directly challenging the former commander in a fight. Ronalg had learned from the old man well and had dribbled poison all over the newest whores just before the old man had taken them back to his tent.
Looked just like the old man's heart had given out before he could violate his trio of virgins. Which had left Ronalg as the head of the mercenary company. Any of the men who had voiced concerns had either spent the next day picking up their teeth or wishing that was all they had to worry about.
"You even think about how much food and water those slaves would take? Not like we're in the bulk business. We can't just show up at the slave market with a couple hundred slaves just good enough for feeding to the pit fights or blood sacrifice," Ronalg said as he waved for another beer. One of the junior mercenaries acting as barman slouched over with another pitcher and dropped it on the table unceremoniously. Manning the taps was a shit job, but someone had to do it and the trading post's barman had run off during the fighting. At least he'd get a turn with the women tonight.
"We're known for quality merchandise, Rittle," Rumgar said. "Finest flesh peddlers in Ansalon! By Paladine's dick, remember our last sale? Most of 'em were still virgins by the time we got them to market, fancy seeing Martek's Marauders manage to do that."
"Fucking Marauders wouldn't know how to check," Ronalg snickered into his beer.
Rittle glared at them sourly. The elf had always been unctuous and a prick but usually he was smarter than this. He was a bleeding Black Robe anyway, wasn't as if he needed to worry about finding some slut to poke. Black Robe's could summon up succubi from the Abyss. Not that the son of a whore ever offered to do so for the benefit of the rest of the company. Said it was too expensive and too tiring to summon one. Said that by the time he had summoned one he was too tired to even get it to suck him off.
"Even selling some bulk merchandise would get us a better profit than this contract," Rittle said with a roll of his eyes. He brushed back oiled silver hair and leaned forward. "I've been keeping an eye on the sergeant's books, we're barely at half of the loot we should have. Her whoreness' eyes are too damned sharp. We're lucky we managed to grab this trading post or we wouldn't even have half the loot we need to break even."
"You worry too much," Rumgar said and punched the elf in the shoulder. Effete as he might look, Rittle didn't even wince at the rock hard impact of the minotaur's head-sized fist. "We haven't even had a real good battle yet. Once we have one of those, her whoreness won't be able to keep her eyes on everyone. And there'll be dead dragons around, you take my word for it."
There was a moment of contemplative silence around the table. If they had the chance to butcher a single dead dragon, even one of the little whites, they'd break even on the contract easily. Virtually every part of a dragon was in high demand back on the islands and the teeth, claws, and scales could make them rich if they were in good condition.
"Don't count your steel before it jingles," Ronalg said, breaking the silence. "I've seen what happens when dragons fight and they don't leave nice neat corpses around. We'll be lucky if we can find a pound of intact dragon after a battle."
"Then we take that pound of dragon and everything else lying around on the battlefield for loot!" Rumgar said. "You two worry like a couple of virgin barmaids on payday." He smiled broadly and fingered his right horn. There were little notch marks inlaid with precious metals marching down from the tip towards the base. "I'd take her whoreness over a dragon anyday though," he said, rubbing a platinum notch with his broad finger. Rumor said that platinum notches were royalty. Rumgar only had one of those and they had never found out her name or where he had fucked her.
There was more silence at the table. Ronalg looked down at his beer and then glanced at Rittle. The elf met his gaze for a second and then looked back at his wine cup. Deep in their hearts, the other two mercenaries were thinking the same thing although neither would admit it. Rittle would say that a filthy Qualinesti slut wasn't worth the come in her whoring pussy, and, in fact, said just that.
"A Qualinesti slut isn't worth the come in her filthy snatch," he said loftily and sipped his wine. Close enough, thought Ronalg.
"She's just another whore," muttered Ronalg, knowing himself to be a liar and not a good one at that. "Sure, I wouldn't mind bending her over a table and giving her something to remember, but she's so cold I bet I'd get frostbite."
"If you could even get it up the frigid slut's tight pussy," Rittle said, seemingly unaware of the contradictions. "Those Qualinesti can't fuck worth a damn, too stupid and slovenly to know how too. They just spread and slap around for a minute and consider that fucking."
Ronalg and Rumgar exchanged glances. That described the average mercenary's idea of quality love making with near perfect accuracy. "You don't know what you're missing then," Rumgar said with a laugh. "Those golden sluts are the best. I had a cousin who caught one and banged her silly with his warband. Had her begging, begging for the cock after that! Couldn't get enough."
"That the cousin who got caught by the Dragon Army and conscripted because he was too stupid to get out of a scouting party's way?" Ronalg said.
"Ohhh, oh, wait," Rittle said with a snicker. "The same one who said it was only because he had caught some Qualinesti queen and was too busy buggering her against a tree to pay attention to some little humans? The Qualinesti don't even have a queen!"
Rumgar shrugged. "Queen or not, best fuck he had in his life, he said. And I," he said with a thump as he set his mug on the table and leaned back with a belch, "for one, won't pass up the opportunity to try one out."
There was a blast of cold air as someone opened the door and didn't shut it. Rumgar and Rittle froze and stared over Ronalg's head. The hobgoblin looked up at their shocked expressions and turned to scream at the idiot letting the warm air out and maybe throw the pitcher of beer.
"You
might just get your wish," he said in slack-jawed amazement at the sight
of her whoreness herself, Laurana, the Golden General, standing in the
doorway with her arms crossed under those lovely, full breasts, and a glare
on her face.
Laurana panted for breath and backpedaled furiously towards the bar, sword whipping around in gleaming arcs before her. All around her mercenaries hooted and screamed obscenities while pumping their fists in the air, unheeding of the beer and wine splashing among them.
This, this was a nightmare, she thought to herself as she fought down the sheer terror and panic welling up within her. She had heard the noise of the mercenaries and walked into the common room. Nothing had seemed too amiss for a minute or two while they were staring at her. But then a woman's voice had started pleading for someone to, "Take it out, oh Dark Lady, help me, save me, no more!"
The mercenaries had let her pass in stunned silence as she shoved her way through them. Those too slow or drunk to move were shoved aside with well placed punches and kicks. A trail of men holding their hands, arms, or groins had spread out behind her.
Disgusted horror had flooded Laurana when she had pushed to the front of the crowd and seen the women. Half-dressed in shredded Dragon Army uniforms, the three women were chained by their wrists to rings recently pounded into the common room's wall.
Two had their mouths full of mercenary cock, their eyes half closed and muffled sobs and what might have been pleas for mercy barely escaping their filled throats. The other woman was bent over at the waist and pushed against the wall, her arms bent and palms flat against the varnished wood.
"Dark Lady, stop them, Dark Lady, please, please, save your humble servant, save me, please," the woman was sobbing. A mercenary had a firm grip on the flame red hair cascading down her shoulders with one hand. The other was clamped around her trim waist as he sodomized her viciously. Each thrust punctuated the woman's prayers with a squeal and the sound of her hands pounding futilely against the wall.
"What-what is this?" Laurana managed to gasp.
"Err, just recreation, general," the hobgoblin leader of the Triple Rs said from behind her. A minotaur and a Silvanesti elf wearing the black robes followed close behind him.
"I forbade this specifically!" Laurana yelled, half-turning to the hobgoblin. "This, this is unacceptable behavior! Free those women at once! And, and I demand that every man who-" her mouth twisted in disgust and her eyes flashed fury, "-assaulted them be turned in for a flogging and execution!"
"Oh, come now, your generalship," the hobgoblin wheedled. "They're the enemy, killed plenty of your men. This is nothing more than some restitution. We won't kill them or even mark them up too bad." He moved closer and nudged Laurana with an elbow. "Nothing they wouldn't do to you if they had you captured, general."
Ronalg winked and realized that had been a mistake. Far too much beer, far too fast, and without nearly enough food to go along with it. Only chance now was to ditch a couple of the new boys, ones no one liked, and hope the general didn't pull their contract.
"There aren't any bodyguards outside," Rittle whispered into his ear.
"What?" Ronalg said, loud enough for the Golden General to narrow her eyes at him and finger her sword hilt.
"None," Rittle said without looking at Laurana. "Pickets say there aren't any guards close to us."
Calculations wheeled through Ronalg's head. Stupid slut was wandering around alone with just her sword and a few bits of armor. And that plumed helmet of her's. They grab her they could ransom her back to the Whitestone Forces for a pretty price. Or sell her to the Dragon Armies. Or, he through with mouth-watering greed, set up and auction and let the two sides bid the prices up for her whoreness.
He opened his mouth to signal Rittle and Rumgar to quietly take Laurana prisoner when a mercenary yelled, "You selfish slut! You jealous of her then you take her place! I haven't fucked a slut in two months and I'm getting a piece of ass tonight!"
Deafening cheers of agreement thundered through the common room as the mercenaries moved closer.
"Yes, forbidding all whores and even fraternization between male and female soldiers," Rittle called out above the cheering. "Sounds like you want to be the only whore in this army, why don't you admit it?"
"I-I you-," Laurana snapped as she drew her sword. "I'll see you flogged for that, dark elf filth!"
"Filth?!?" yelled Rittle, hands curling and uncurling. "I'll show you filth, you Qualinesti whore. Filth is what you'll be once you're done pulling a caravan for us!" There was a roar from every mercenary in the room and they surged forward towards Laurana on all sides.
Ronalg
swore as men buffeted him in their efforts to reach the elf general. Men were
screaming with rage and pain as she sliced her way through the crowd towards
the door. But even as a few men fell with deadly cuts to their bodies, more
soldiers seized up chairs and even tables and moved to block her motion.
Now she stood on the bar, kicking and slicing at the hands trying to drag her down. If she could reach the ceiling beams, get along them to the door or to the stairs, then get out a window-
A hand snagged her boot just as she leapt up towards the ceiling beam. Laurana cursed as her fingers slid over the wood and she stumbled back onto the bar. Before she could gain her footing someone whipped a thin chain around her sword and tugged, forcing her to let go of the weapon or be pulled into the raging sea of mercenaries below her.
The sight of those three Dragon Army women filled her mind as she danced and skipped back along the bar, watching as the mercenaries climbed onto the bar after her like some horrible human tide. One last chance, she could make a leap for the beams again-
But even as she leapt, mercenaries seized hold of her long golden hair and tugged, jerking her back with a scream.
"Get off me! Release me you mercenary filth! I am your commanding officer! I order you to let me go!" she yelled as she was pulled off the bar and held above the heads of the crowd, hands spreading her limbs so she was spread eagled in the air. "You will let me go at- no!" she cried as the hands began working at the catches to her armor.
She struggled desperately but with no effect as the mercenaries lowered her to the floor, a sea of faces filling her sight and blocking out all view of the ceiling beams which might have saved her. "Stop! I order you!" she yelled, her voice quavering as her breastplate was pulled free. One by one, skilled hands undid the catches of her armor and flung them back into the crowd. Soon she was struggling in her soft cotton underclothes, only her boots and helmet remaining of her armor.
"Fuck the whore!" someone shouted.
"Spread her!"
"Fuck her mouth!"
"Give the slut what she wants!"
"Give the whore what she deserves!"
"You know you want this, you whoretease!" a man's face snarled as he shoved his way between Laurana's kicking and jerking legs. Rough hands snagged the waistband of her underclothes and tugged, ripping the cloth into shreds and exposing her quim to the eyes of the crowd.
Laurana screamed, unable to stop the terror filling her as hands pinned her spread eagle to the floor. Her mightiest efforts were in vain, all her protestations were ignored. Calloused hands tugged and tore at her shift, baring her heaving breasts to the crowd. There was a split second of silence at the magnificent sight before the roar renewed itself and redoubled in volume.
"We're
going to fuck you in every hole, slut!" someone yelled in her ear, then
the man between her legs had his cock out. He let her see the obscene length
and girth and Laurana sobbed wretchedly as he pressed it to her quim. With a
wail, her back arched and her head shook wildly as the cock was shoved into
her, violating her to the sound of cheers from a hundred throats.
"We call this 'riding the barrel', your whoreness," Ronalg said to her.
Riding the barrel had a general meaning shared among all the mercenary bands of Krynn. In most cases it meant taking a whore who had tried to steal or cheat her client and bending her over a keg of beer or barrel of wine. Then she'd be fucked by every man in the company, no hole spared their assault.
Some companies varied the practice. Marek's Marauders tied the whore to the barrel, arms behind her back. Others tipped the barrel on its side instead of standing it on its end, forcing the whore to partially kneel.
The Triple Rs had further refined the practice further by taking the whore spread eagle and bending her over a barrel on its side. They would then tie her wrists and ankles to taut ropes tied to stakes firmly pounded into the ground. The the whore would be pounded no less vigorously by every man in the outfit and left there for the entirety of the night in case anyone else in the area wanted a poke.
Ronalg leered at the sobbing Golden General as they finished tying her down. Come was splattered over her ass and face, bits of it pasting her golden hair to her neck from a vigorous circle jerk. More liberally coated the insides of her trembling thighs and dripped down to the floor. A mercenary with a sense of style and humor placed her helmet neatly back on top of her golden hair. The helmet itself was splattered with spurts of seed that began to run down the metal onto Laurana's whimpering face.
"I think you just got raped by about a dozen men, very good of you to still be conscious and struggling the whole time, makes it so much sweeter for us." He crouched by her and lifted her head with her hair, making her wince. She looked at him with wide green eyes shining with terror and aching with shame. "You might pass out while we're fucking you, but don't worry, we'll still be here when you wake up."
He laughed as Laurana sobbed and shook her head. He laughed again when she started to scream as the first man spread her buttocks with his rough hands and pressed his cock against the tender pink of her arse.
"Nooooaaaaiieeeeergh-" Laurana wailed, thrashing against the bonds that held her firmly in place. She began to curse between squeals of humiliated suffering when the third man finished and the next took his place to bugger her. Her pleading became begging and finally sobbing shrieks as the tenth man finished with her. Ronalg could hear make out what she might be saying as the fifteenth man took her because by that time she was taking two men at a time, one up her arse, the other fucking her throat with equal vigor.