("`-''-/").___..--''"`-._ `6_ 6 ) `-. ( ).`-.__.`) (_Y_.)' ._ ) `._ `. ``-..-' _..`--'_..-_/ /--'_.' ,' (((' (((-((('' (((( K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N _________________________________________ WARNING! This text file contains sexually explicit material. If you do not wish to read this type of literature, or you are under age, PLEASE DELETE THIS FILE NOW!!!! _________________________________________ Scroll down to view text -------------------------------------------------------- This work is copyrighted to the author © 2008. Please don't remove the author information or make any changes to this story. All rights reserved. Thank you for your consideration. -------------------------------------------------------- Where Witches Walk by Catalingus (catalingus2005@yahoo.com) *** When his wife is captured in battle, the end of the war is only the beginning of true suffering for James Rawlings. (FF, nc, rp, oral, mc, fantsy) *** They stood on wet ground as the cool breeze of their darkest hour swept past. Most of their numbers were gone. The free lands in the north had all fallen, swallowed up by the black mass of the oppressive Kath'rahim army. Only York stood against them now, one final free people, stretched fabric-thin against a world's worth of steel. For a year they had managed to hold the untold numbers at bay. Under the leadership of King James Rawlings III, they had used the swift striking movements a smaller force could achieve, but a larger force could not quickly respond to, as a tool of harassment. If nothing else, they had hoped to maintain their own independence. Now, not even that seemed possible any more. The devil was at their doorstep, and the lock was broken. Kath'rahim, covering the southern part of the great continent, had always been a dark and oppressive land. Authoritarian and bleak, even their religious music was known for its minor keys and moaning choirs. The people of the large, desert-flecked nation obeyed their faith- based leaders and worked as ants in a colony. Kath'rahim, though, had also maintained a lack of contact with the rest of the world. They had held strong border defenses and refused significant trade for as long as anybody could remember. Up until a few years ago, most people had never actually seen a Kath'rahiminer, and little was known about them. And then the armies marched through the gates. Unknown to the outside world, Kath'rahim had long been suffering a drought that evaporated farmland and starved families. In response, the emperors of what was often called The Hidden Land had instigated a number of programs that bought time, but solved nothing. The newest ruler, a military commander and son of a wealthy family named Guyen Tahlen, had seen something in the faces of scared mothers and bony children nobody else had: opportunity. Using the famine as a rallying cry, he had whipped his people into a frenzied belief that, because they had a right to survive, they had a right to take fertile land from the lands to their north. His armies swelled and, before anybody even realized his ambitions, he was standing at their doorsteps. Of course, he'd had no intention of stopping with the conquering of his neighbors, and once his men tasted victory he had no trouble convincing them to continue the fight. What finally made him truly threatening to all who stood before him was his promise of protection for the families of any men in his new lands who would join his cause. His own defeated enemies had quickly allowed him to build the largest army in written history. Tahlen did not hide his ambitions. He wanted the world. James Rawlings, and his strong wife Nina, had guided York's ever dwindling numbers into battle time and again. Together, they had managed to accomplish something nobody else had in the face of Tahlen's overwhelming numbers: victories over the black swarm at their doorstep. This, along with their passion for freedom and humanity, had earned them the position of being the people Guyen Tahlen hated most in this world. He dreamed at night of the ways he would give them pain. He made it clear to all that there would be no end to their sufferings, should they fall into his grip. When he captured David's half-brother, Nicholas, fleeing north in a caravan he had gutted him in public and sent his organs to his enemy king in a box. Guyen Tahlen was a soulless creature. The threat of suffering had never seemed more real than it did now. The small army of York was split in two, having just completed a successful feint and flank maneuver on one of Tahlen's smaller corps, and the hope had been to reconnect before the large force could react. James led one wing, Nina the other. He stood now at the planned meeting point, high in the Aerothian Mountains. The wind made a sound that could only come from the world of the dead. Like a promise, or a threat. He ignored it, scanning the horizon as he had for the last six hours. Nothing. "The scouts are back," Gerald Lang, James' oldest and most experienced commander, was climbing up to the lookout point. His awkward movements betrayed his age, but his thick pepper beard and hawkish eyes made him look every bit as tough as he was. "They haven't found anything," James Rawlings's eyes continued their diligent hunt. "No," Lang sighed, reaching the point. "But there was smoke in the direction of the Misean Rivers. Black smoke, they said. Thick." He watched his king's face as he said it. He had been advisor to James's father, had watched the boy become the man, and was as much a concerned uncle as a reliable general. "Then she's lost," James continued searching without visible emotion, as though he hadn't just resolved himself to such a reality. "Maybe not, my boy. Maybe not." Lang put his hand on the tall man's shoulder. Neither looked at the other. Long moments passed. James tensed. "There's a rider." "Where?" The old man squinted in the direction James was looking. "I don't see anything." James pushed away suddenly, leaping down the mountainside towards the camp below. "It's Piani!" he shouted over his shoulder as he ran. General Hane Piani was Nina Rawlings's military advisor. A loud, aggressive man with a tendency to get into fights over trivial things, he nevertheless had always been as gentle as a teddy bear around the queen. On the field, he was a great match for Nina's mathematical eye; she maneuvered troops like she was playing chess, and he guided them in their work like each new breath was a fistfight. As he rushed into the encampment, dirty and bruised, he headed straight for the command tent. His horse, a fine and strong animal, foamed with the effort of the long run. Blood flecked its nostrils. "My lord!" He howled well before he was actually in hearing range. "My lord!" He and James reached the command area within moments of each other, both out of breath. "Where?" James called, running. "Gone," Piani practically fell from his horse when it stopped, holding his hand to a bloody tear in the side of his uniform. "The witches...the witches are..." James jerked to a stop, suddenly cold. "The witches are neutral," he said flatly. "No sir," Piani gasped, bent forward and looking ready to collapse. "They fought against us. We...they captured the queen." "Nina..." James fell to his knees. "Captured. She's not dead." "No, sir," Piani swooned and shook his head, as though dizzy. "But..." "For the love of all things!" Lang rushed past James and put his hands under the younger general's armpits. Only a slight limp showed the exertion of rushing down the steep incline. "This man is wounded. Somebody call a surgeon!" "Nina," James stared blankly at them. "He's got Nina." Lang ignored him, buckling slightly under the weight of the bloody figure he supported. Piani's eyelids fluttered as he fought to stay awake. "She'll fight," he whispered. "She'll fight for sure." -- Nina didn't bother fighting against her chains. It would be of no use, and it would only encourage her tormentors. She had given herself up for dead the moment on the battlefield that the witches had swooped and captured her, and she would do her best not to give them any other satisfaction. She looked around. She was in a large tent, which she was certain was placed at the very center of the huge army. A thick fabric bisected the middle of the massive structure. The room she was in was a command center; the other was no doubt Lord Tahlen's personal quarters. She hoped she wouldn't have to see them; she doubted she'd be that lucky. She was against one wall, a sturdy metal collar on her neck sprouting chains that connected to wrist and ankle bracelets. The chains were short, pulled tight, making it impossible for her to stand or move. Instead, she was forced into the awkward position of kneeling with her arms pulled back, her chest pushed out and, thanks to her torn dress, her breasts well more exposed than she would prefer. Even whores would be embarrassed by the display she was being forced to give. Guards, massive men with alert eyes, stood at the entryway and on either side of her. A big wooden table was the center of everyone else's attention for now. Strategy was the game on their mind. Lord Tahlen was among them. He towered over the others, pacing like an angry lion. After some time he brushed his commanders away. This left him alone with Nina, minus the silently immobile guards. "You look wonderful, my dear," he chuckled, striding over to her. His voice was deep, flat. He wore baggy pants that clung snugly to his thick waist and an open vest. A layer of fat coated his tremendous musculature, and his stomach stood out before him. He was hairy and sweating profusely. Beaded water ran down his lined face and traced the curves of his massive chest and stomach. His immense size and glistening sweat made him an intimidating figure. His lined face and yellow teeth made him disgusting. "Wish I could say the same for you," she spat. He smiled down at her, making her uncomfortably aware of her position. Then, without any sign of malice, he drove his fist down on her left breast. She screamed in shock and pain, and tried to twist away. This only caused her bracelets to dig into her ankles. She ached where he had struck her. He watched, amused. Then, he turned to one of the guards in the doorway. "Bring the girls." The man moved immediately, and Tahlen reached down to grip Nina's golden curls. He yanked hard, forcing her head back and digging the collar into her neck. "You want to not be foolish here, my dear." "I thought it might help me fit in," she snarled through clenched teeth. If she could entice him enough, maybe he would kill her now and it would be over quickly. "Don't worry about that, sunshine," he smiled down at her, pulling her face closer, "you'll do just fine." His smell made her want to be sick. Just then the guard returned, with a small figure in tow. Looking scared, afraid, and bruised was Cindy Rawlings...the older of the two daughters of David's dead brother. Cindy was 11, her sister Jane was 6. They were David's only surviving relatives, now. Nina loved them as if they were her own daughters. "Nina!" Cindy shouted, as the guard pushed her towards Tahlen. She stumbled and fell to her knees. Nina wanted to reach out for her. She looked weary and weak, but beyond the bruising she seemed to have avoided serious harm. "God, no..." Nina moaned. She became aware of her own position, and was ashamed. She would have done much to avoid letting the child see her in such an exposed, beaten place. Tahlen gripped the poor child's hair, as he had Nina's, and yanked her up to her feet. "God, yes," he stared intently at Nina, letting go of her head. "I want you to know that Cindy can get out of this alive. Do you understand me? She can live. It's up to you. Entirely up to you." "I don't seem to have any influence here," she snapped. "Oh, but you do. You see, simply by acting so bratty, you have caused this to happen." Casually, he gripped one of Cindy's fingers in his massive, brutish grip and bent it casually in the wrong direction. The girl screamed as it popped and twisted obscenely. Her entire hand could easily have disappeared in his tremendous grip. He didn't even have to try as he broke her finger. "No!" Nina cried out. Her guts twisted with the wounded digit. Tahlen handed the girl back to the officer. She cried over her damaged hand, clutching it to her chest. "Take her to her cell," he waved dismissively, "I'll let you know in the morning if she's going to get to see the doctor about that." He turned back to Nina. Smug certainty gave his face a kind of serenity that would have been attractive, if she hadn't known its source. If he hadn't just broken the bone of a child to make a simple point. "So long as you make good choices, she will be unharmed. I swear it. Every bad choice, she gets hurt. Do something really stupid, and I might even start in on her sister Jane." "Jane is here?" She hoped he was bluffing. "Pray you don't give me reason to prove it," his face held a challenge that tore the hope out of her. "Why are you doing this?" She sobbed, knowing full well. Tahlen was a man built on hate, and in his lifetime he would never again find the kind of hate he held for James and Nina Rawlings. Tahlen walked back over, his feet touching her knees, and lifted her chin up with one sweaty palm. "You and your husband have caused me a great deal of irritation. When I capture him, and I will capture him, I want him to see you at my side." Excitement flickered in his eyes, and she fought the urge to shrink away from that gaze. "More than that, I want him to see the swell of your belly, to find your body heavy with pregnancy, to know that, even if he were to win, you could never be fully his again." Tears ran down her face. "Please..." "Enough talk," he released her face and casually delivered a backhanded slap that left her rolling on the ground. She tasted blood. "Prepare her for bed." As the guards lifted her up and began carrying her towards the emperor's personal sleeping chambers, a chill ran down Nina Rawlings's spine. -- "I want your best suggestions on what is to be done. We have to save the queen." David Rawlings looked around the table at his generals. Most of them wouldn't meet his gaze. They knew, as he did deep down, that any attempt at a rescue would be suicide. It would be the destruction of their cause in the name of a vain attempt to rescue a marriage. But they would not think to argue against him, either. Except for two men. Hane Piani, still wearing the bandages of his wounds, stared at his king. "You cannot possibly be so foolish," he grunted. His eyes glared out from above his bent nose and narrow jaw. "You overstep your rights, general," David returned the angry glare. "My decision is made, and you will abide by it." "Then I will die," Piani said matter-of-factly, "and I will die for nothing." General Lang held up his hand. He looked older and wearier, in the candle-lit dusk. "Let us not be foolish," he sad quietly. The sandpapered exhaustion that eternally held his throat gave his words weight. David Rawlings turned his lit gaze on his old friend, and stared for a moment before softening his expression. He looked down at his hands, folded before him. In the silence, he opened his palms and looked down at them. He studied the lines that marked them, and sighed. "This war is not over," he said, "and we will not do anything to rush its conclusion." Relief flooded the room. He continued. "I have fought, by your sides, in the name of freedom and country. We have done this together, and done well. So I will not lie to you now: I no longer care about those things." He looked hard at each man in turn as he spoke. "None of this...not our nation, our heritage, our sovereignty, nor our lives as free men...none of it matters to me in the face of this loss. I fight now for my wife. I will either save or I will avenge her. Either way, I only care to survive this war if she does. My fate is now linked to hers." They did not flinch at his conviction, but the weight of his words were upon them. He looked at his hands again, as though hoping to find something there he could use. "If she is dead, I hope to be as well. Soon. I do sincerely promise you that my own quest will not interfere with what we have started here. But we have been few, and are significantly fewer now. They are still many." In a sudden movement he slammed both fists onto the table. Men jerked with surprise, and when he looked up at them again all emotion had left his face. "We must now plan for something beyond war," he whispered. "A war is a thing we can not win. We must slaughter them as a farmer slaughters cattle. We won't win fights. We cannot win battles. We cannot even survive them. So we will not fight. Not as they are accustomed to. We will cut their throats as they sleep and we will poison the water that they drink. We now conspire to commit murder, however we may." Nobody spoke. -- Nina couldn't keep her shoulders and back from aching. But she still felt relief. The emperor hadn't taken her last night. She doubted that terrible event was far off, but it hadn't happened yet. He was letting her roil in her fear, for his own amusement. It was working. Carried to his quarters, she'd been stripped naked and chained to the side of the bed, left to sleep on the ground. Before the emperor returned, however, one of the witch women had come and muttered a few words over her. It was a fat, young witch Nina recognized. She was named Cecile, or Cecilia, or something of the like. She had spent some time in Nina and James's own court. She showed no recognition, now, as she cast her spell. A single white line appeared on Nina's collar, and she had quickly discovered that it meant the emperor could give her horrific pain with just an angry thought. No need to beat her, just to think about it. She wondered if that would actually stop him. When he'd entered the room and stripped naked for bed, making a show of it for her, she'd turned away only to be zapped with agony worse than any fist could deliver. It felt as though someone had a death grip on her heart and lungs, twisting and tearing with abandon. It stopped only when she promised to watch. Although heavily muscled, his body was a long ways away from attractive. Instead, he had the look of an angry, murderous bull. His thick neck and wide shoulders alone were enough to make him look like a monster of some kind, but nothing was as hideous and frightening as his manhood. As he proudly removed his pants, the blood left her face. It did indeed look like something that should belong on a bull. The huge pouch beneath it rolled silently of its own accord. As he kicked his pants away, it all slapped loudly and heavily against his thigh. A rutting scent emanated from it, barely noticeable from where Nina sat five feet away. Even flaccid, the image was that of a weapon. He'd walked over and placed one foot squarely on her chest, between her breasts. He pushed her down onto her back as easily as he'd broken Cindy's finger. After taking a moment to admire her nudity (she dared not cover herself), he'd walked up. His feet moved on either side of her body. He stopped when he was standing directly across her breasts, her gaze on the lewd display of his heavy, soft member and other intimate areas. Fear chewed at her core. The same foot again landed on her chest, so that he stood over her like conquered land. The spot where he'd punched her, near the top of her breast, ached. It was bruising quickly. She silently thanked the gods that James wasn't here to see this, to witness her being dominated by such a creature. Tahlen applied a little weight, as if testing her ability to hold up to it. He stopped increasing the pressure when she coughed once, and then lifted his foot up so that it hovered over her neck. For a moment she flinched against the expectation of violence. Then, filthy sweat-coated toes rested on her chin. He smiled down at her, and placed his big toe on her closed lips. "Tomorrow," he'd said, "you will have to work harder, if you hope to keep those darling girls alive." Then he'd slept. She lay all night on the floor, praying for her husband and herself. When she awoke he was already gone, prepping his army for the day's work. The siege required a lot of tending to, particularly with such a large army, and he had left her there chained to his bed. Guards stood at the doorway. When she sat up, they took her leash and lead her to the emperor's large bathing tent. It centered around a massive tub, dug into the ground and cemented, big enough to be called a pool. The water was almost three feet deep, but no more. Four beautiful young women, wearing strange slick-looking shorts and no tops, had guided her to the pool to be cleaned. It somehow felt more uncomfortable to have her leash in the hands of a half-nude woman than to have the guards holding it. She blushed when one young brunette's firm breast had brushed against her right arm. The women had taken her into the water, surrounded her, and cleaned her with their hands, cloths, and soft sponges. The soap was clear liquid, and felt almost like massage oil. They rubbed and caressed her, as the guards laughed and made vile jokes. She knew she must not pull away from the unwelcome attention. Her blush grew deeper as the brunette leaned in, her breasts pushing against Nina's arm again, and whispered that she should relax. "We are here to help," she whispered in Nina's ear, and kissed it softly. The shivering tingle that the kiss caused was her own body's betrayal. She supposed that this was how the emperor bathed. The girls were not shy, and were very thorough. It was incredibly awkward to have their hands and eyes on her, and even more terrible that the whole thing felt so good. Not even her bruised breast was bothered by their expert explorations. When they told her to open her legs more, she had to close her eyes against the humiliation she felt. She wished their fingers weren't so capable, so soft on her body. She wished she could hate every minute of it. She blushed her way through the invasion, only to find when it was over that Anne Jall, the lead witch woman, had entered the tent. Her black dress fit her mature body well, making her look seductive and coy. But Nina knew better: she was a murderous and unredeemable creature. The witches, few in number, had always had a reputation for a violent and domineering manner. They were known to favor women, and to be sadistic about their pleasure. They had always stayed out of the affairs of the world, however, until Anne Jall had aligned them with Emperor Tahlen's quest for world domination. Anne herself was responsible for Nina's capture, and Nina promised herself now that one day she would see this woman dead. Anne looked at the bathhouse slaves rather than at Nina. "The emperor commands," she said, "that the new pet be taught this work as you have been. After all," she smiled at Nina looking small in the waist-deep water, "she'll be bathing the master soon." Nina frowned as the girls nodded, moving away from her. The one holding her leash clipped the chain to a bar on the side of the pool. Another handed her a fresh sponge and washcloth. What was happening? She looked helplessly at the young brunette. The girl was younger than Nina had first realized. She winked at Nina and stepped away. Nina felt foolish for even hoping she could expect anything from the girl. Anne smiled all the way through taking off her clothes. Girls took each item from her to be hung up, and soon she was fully naked. Looking away was useless, too: the sharp burst of pain in her collar told Nina that the witch could use it against her. "You must learn to mind your manners," Anne tutted as she strutted to the shallow water. Without her tailor-made outfit, the witch looked far less striking. Her breasts sagged a little too much, her stomach contained a paunch, and her wide hips gave way to narrow thighs. Stretch marks tickled her lower stomach. She descended into the bath, however, looking for all the world like she thought she was the definition of beauty. She moved to the middle of the pool, a few feet from Nina, and held her arms out with a smile. Crows feet spread out from her proud eyes. Nina stood frozen. A small dose of pain hit her through the collar, as Anne raised one impatient eyebrow. One of the girls gently pushed her in the witch's direction, and followed with her. It was the brunette. "Do not make me wait," Anne said without looking at her. "I don't find the children as...adorable...as the emperor does." "You don't have to do this," Nina pleaded. "Of course I don't," she turned her head in Nina's direction, a mix of excitement and annoyance on her face. "I am a free woman, a powerful woman. You're the one who has to do this. And you," she reached out and traced Nina's jaw line with one bony finger, "have just earned that little girl another break." This sparked Nina into action. She moved in, trying to put her mind elsewhere as she began running the soaked sponge over the older woman's body. She did her best, with the sponge and towel, to match the movements of the bathers. What she forgot, the young brunette reminded her of. She ignored her revulsion at running her bare hands over Anne's most personal of areas. The witch woman smiled and hummed approvingly as Nina's hands slipped down to trace with the gentle soap the line from her inner thighs to her hips. By the time she turned to have her back done, she seemed to be reveling in the scenario. "You're just not very thorough," she shook her head as Nina finished awkwardly washing her bottom. "I will have to report this to his majesty. Clearly, you will need much more practice with me before you are ready for him." "I'm trying..." "Shut up," she leaned slightly forward, arching her rear for easier access, "and go over that last area again." Nina reached out with the sponge, and Anne slapped her hands away with a swift backwards motion. "Inept," she said over her shoulder. "Maybe if you can see the area you're working on better, you won't be so...hopeless." Nina swallowed heavily, trying to silently talk herself into moving. The brunette leaned in behind her and put her hands on Nina's shoulders. She pushed softly downwards, and leaned in so that her mouth was near Nina's ear again. "Obedience," she whispered, "keeps you alive." Again, she kissed Nina's ear gently, and again Nina blushed at the contact. Nina swallowed again, and knelt in the water behind the witch. Anne glanced behind her to see Nina's sad face even with her posterior, about a foot away, and without warning took a step backwards. Nina fought the urge to recoil as the woman's rear moved to barely a third the distance it had been from her face. "And this time, dear," the witch ran the fingers of her right hand gently up the outside of her own thigh, like this was sex, like it was a sensuous moment of intimacy. "don't waste time with the sponge or towel. They aren't made for such places. Do a good job of it with your hands, or you can expect to be told to use your tongue." Nina poured soap onto her hands, and shuttered as she reached forward. When it was finally over, Anne turned around and put her hands on her hips. The older woman's total exposure was suddenly inches from Nina's face. The shock of suddenly having her lewd position becoming even more alarming made her gasp, and she looked at the water. A small part of her tried to tell itself this wasn't happening, and she pushed it away with disgust. This was happening, and she would deal with it as she dealt with any battle. She intended to survive, to see James again. She forced her gaze up, defiantly meeting the witch woman's eyes. She wiped all fear wiped from her face, and folded her arms in front of her. Her little rebellion was immediately diluted, however, as Anne's long fingers found the top of her head and gently petted it. As though she was an obedient pet. Then, Anne turned and sauntered cockily over to a sitting area on the edge of the pool. Nina hadn't noticed it before. The girls, seeing her move, rushed and put pillows on the seat area before the got there. She slid onto it. The seat, wide enough for two and naturally reclined, sat about even with the pool. This meant that Anne's legs dangled into the pool, and as the water splashed lightly it made little forays up onto the seat that lightly splashed her lower thighs. Anne smiled at Nina's confusion. "Oh, you don't know yet, do you?" She chuckled. She turned towards the girls. "I want the emperor's full service. Now." As they began moving, she obscenely parted her legs, leaning her head back against the headrest of the tall seat. "Bring the girl. She needs to learn." Nina didn't have time for anything but rising panic as the bath girls came up from behind her and began guiding her towards the witch's open legs. She pushed back at them, frantically wanting to get away. Pain slammed into her from the collar, until she allowed them to carry her forward. Anne laughed with true amusement, running one hand down her body excitedly as she watched the poor girl's horrified, quick approach. -- "Innocent people will die." James grunted, not looking away from the map in front of him. "Innocent people," he said quietly, "are dying." Lang pounded his fist on the table. James still didn't look up. "We don't have to be responsible for it, goddamn it!" On the other side of the king, General Piani looked grimly at the map. He shook his head. "We are running out of options. You know that, General." He looked up at the old man, with sad eyes that were uncharacteristic for such a hardened soldier. "The raids aren't working. They're looking for our assassins, now. We," he threw his hands out, "are failing." "We choose to," Lang still watched the king. "We choose to die, my lord. These will be women and children. They do not choose it." "They are dying anyway," James grunted. "The whole damn town is surrounded by the troops. How many of them are dead already? How many of them have been raped? How many will be starved to death even as they serve the goddamn monsters who are killing them?" He pointed to the spot they all had been studying. "They tell me the poison is ready. There is enough. We can pour it in the river here. By the time they realize what's happening," he shrugged, "well...you tell me." He leaned back, looking years older than he had yesterday. The fire that had leapt up during his speech to his men, the warning of what lay ahead, and melted into a tired determination to find more and more ways to hurt his enemies. He knew he was pushing himself too hard, and he knew that he was in danger of losing his own morality. "How many of the enemy," he sighed, "will die? How many will be beyond help before they start to blame the water?" Gerald Lang stared at him, saying nothing. For a long moment he watched his friend. Then, he looked down at the map. "It works fast. Maybe twenty thousand. Maybe more." His shoulders sagged with defeat. James said nothing. His point was made. Piani, however, continued the discussion unaware. "That's it, then. Nearly half a corps with no battle to it. Most of the rest will be so weak that we can sweep them. It's too good, General," his tired eyes gave away his uncertainty. This was a violent and vicious maneuver, even for him. "We have to do this." It sounded like a plea. Lang shook his head, but didn't argue. "They will take vengeance on our people." He pointed to a spot slightly east of the enemy in question. "Here. This town will be wiped out. I promise it. We kill them as shadows, not as men, and when we do that they kill our innocent. It's the only option we've left them." "They don't need an excuse to become monsters," James whispered, but Lang was right. "I'm sorry, Piani. We move tomorrow." Piani said nothing. The town Lang had pointed to was his home. He still had family there. He'd known the consequences of this attack. "We have to," he repeated quietly. Lang looked carefully at the king, sitting there stubbornly bringing about a hundred thousand corpses. "What if that's where she's being held, James?" He didn't miss the small flinch. "We still don't know. Maybe Nina is there, and we're about to poison her." James didn't look up from the map. "We move tomorrow," he said. Then, he left. -- Anne Jall moved with a relaxed confidence. Her hips swayed jovially as she moved through the crowd, towards the emperor's posse. The glow of her climax was still in her cheeks...it had been a good one, the thrill of the event even better than when the emperor had given her the king of conquered Agner'on for her very own. It wasn't just that she preferred girls, although all witches did. She just preferred the captive to be as unwilling as possible. She wanted to dominate them. Which is why this had been so good, even though Nina herself hadn't been the one to service her. Nina's first rape was to be with Emperor Tahlen. Anne would have to wait. Instead, Nina had been forced to stand next to one of her legs, near the hip, and hold that thigh up. The brunette, well-versed in this service, held the other leg so Anne could relax and still be accessible to the two girls who explored her body and teased her erogenous zones until finally one had knelt down and given her release. She'd watched Nina the whole time, and made the girl look back into her eyes as the mouths and hands worked on her wet, sagging body. The message was simple: this will be you, soon enough. It had made Nina sick to be there, her hands wrapped around this woman's upper thigh, hands that had been there under heavy breasts and between soft hindquarters as she cleaned the horrible woman's body like a slave. She'd gasped at a slight burst of pain when, as Anne reached forward to run a finger down her breast and she'd instinctively pulled away, the collar lit her insides. The witch woman's excitement smell was awful. When it was all over, Anne had shooed the other girls away and kissed Nina on the forehead before making her dry and clothe her. Her pleasure taken, she now brought the emperor his new toy. One hand casually pulled at the leash as Nina followed behind her, head lowered in shame. Nina had a skirt on, rustling and loose, but her breasts were exposed to the lecherous stares of the troops. And stare they did. "Ah, Anne, so glad to see you," Emperor Tahlen smiled as they approached. "I trust we have no reason to harm the children?" "Just one finger, my lord," Anne yanked hard at the chain, so that Nina stumbled into the midst of the generals and couriers. "Although I do hope to get a chance to test her further." "Later," he swept a hand dismissively. "There is work to be done." An irritated look swept her face at the dismissal, but she nodded, handing him the leash. He took it, and tugged downwards one time, hard. Nina fell to her knees, at his side like an obedient dog. "Do you know what day today is?" He asked, looking down at her. "No," she admitted, looking around. Mostly she saw the men standing all around her, openly admiring her chest. "Today is the day that I make you mine. Fitting," he waved his hand out over the massive army before them, "that it's also the day my plans go into motion. Plans that will mean the end of everything you ever knew, and will deliver to me your dearest husband." "He would rather die than be captured." Pain slammed into her, through the collar. She screamed and fell to the ground. "So would you have," he said ominously. It was done. There was nothing more to be said. David Rawlings sat near the river banks. He had insisted on performing the act himself. He would not allow the murder of innocents to fall on the shoulders of men who fought for him. Piani had assisted by opening the crates, and they had worked silently for several hours before it was finished. David looked over at his general, who sat beside him on the banks looking sadly at the water. "I'm sorry," he said, and meant it. To his surprise, thick tears began falling down Piani's hard face. He didn't sob, or move. He just wet the ground in front of him without talking. James put a hand on the man's shoulder, and watched the sun set. "You didn't let me down," he said. He wasn't sure why he said it. It was spoken before he had time to think. But it must have been needed, because Piani wiped the tears from his face and shook his head. "I let them take her," he said. "I did that." "No," David's jaw clenched. "We will not blame ourselves for the sins of others. Anyway," he waved his hands before them, "we have sins enough of our own." They stayed there long into the night. The velvet sky faded into dark, but the stars never gave out. -- "Take me into your mouth." Nina knelt naked by the side of his bed, chained again to the post. He stood over her, his organ slightly engorged. It pointed down at her breasts, pulsing slightly as his eagerness grew and it became swollen. Again she was struck by what an inhuman, beastly organ it was. Even his testicles were like angry fists, clothed in spiky hair. Her eyes watered as much from his masculine, musky scent as from the panicked fear that chewed deep inside her. She looked at the first bead of arousal that leaked from his mushroom tip, steeling herself, willing her body to get this over with. But it was too much...she felt immobile. Helpless. He watched her for a moment, and then sighed. Suddenly his hands gripped her body in the dark, and he casually lifted and tossed her onto the bed. He threw her hard enough that the chain caught, and the collar choked at her. She coughed and sputtered as he yanked her legs open and climbed up onto her. "Tomorrow," he said huskily as his hand explored her most intimate places, "you will learn to be very sorry for that hesitation." He gripped her hips, now fully erect and fear-inducing. The outlines of thick veins crisscrossed the soft skin. It was impossible to imagine anything as terrifying as the sight of that fleshy monster pointing between her legs. He breathed heavy with the excitement of the rape. "But for now, I merely wish to enjoy what's mine." She squeezed her eyes tight in fear, waiting, but a moment passed and nothing happened. When she opened them, she saw he was applying some sort of grease or gel to his appendage. As his muscular hands massaged the slick substance onto his tool it began leaking the clear, sticky arousal in earnest. Some of it dripped onto her hip, and it was cold. "I can't risk ruining the one part of you that's worth a damn," he laughed as he finished preparing. "Not before I get a baby out of it, anyway." She felt the anguish of her situation overwhelm her, and a sob escaped her lips. He laughed. "That's good, dear," he shuffled forward to her entrance, and his grip on her hips tightened painfully. She could feel the pressure of him against her, and he tensed his hips. "That's good." -- Days became weeks, and the weeks became months. Still, they fought. The number of enemy dead climbed daily, as did the civilian losses, but nothing changed. The men of James's army no longer moved with determination. Instead, they moved with dead eyes and numb, expressionless faces. Their shoulders sagged. Their faces grew drawn. These men would never truly be free of the actions they committed in the name of victory. James knew that, but he felt no urge to save them. He felt no urge to save himself. Only her. They were moving, now, to the south. Having gone around the massive army, he now aimed to get at their supply arteries even as a small force under Piani made enough noise up north to convince them that the threat was still in that direction. If it worked, he could cause many casualties from starvation. The enemy was too numerous to survive off the land. If it didn't work, he would just find another way to kill them. And then another, and another, and another. He might never see Piani again. Or, he may see him within the next week. Neither thought affected James any more. They were dead men. That day by the river was already becoming distant past, and so was any notion of peaceful living. It had been so long since Nina was taken away from him. He ever wondered where she was, what was happening to her. If she was in pain. He clenched his jaw. Even if she was still alive...he shuttered, and pushed the thought away. Alive or dead, she would be avenged. -- She wanted to feel nothing. To be numb. To give up. She couldn't. Nina stood naked in the water, cleaning her rapist's hairy, muscled body. Massaging the sponge over his gargantuan, soft sex, rubbing soap between his back cheeks, running her hands through his coarse chest hair. He stood proud through it all. The tender soreness between her legs was cooled by the water. She had already experienced the soft touch of the bathing girls, and had shared a small smile of recognition with the young brunette. It was something positive to cling to. It had been weeks since he first raped her. He didn't seem to tire of it, of her. He had indeed made her regret not accepting him into her mouth. For hesitating. She shuttered at the memory of the punishment. She hoped the girls were alright, now. She hadn't seen them since. These days, she never hesitated. There was no end to the uses he found for her body, and she never fought him. There was no place on his body her lips and tongue were not familiar with. His taste was as pungent as his smell, and it had taken terrible time to learn how to adjust her techniques to his massive size. She always waited to cry until night, after his thick seed was inside her and his member was tired, when he'd kicked her back onto the floor and fallen asleep. When he wouldn't know. She was not defeated. She told herself that often. She was James Rawlings's wife, and leader of a free nation. Of free and good people. She could not be bested by these brutes. Still, as she dipped her hands in the water and ran them up his left leg, defeated is exactly how she felt. As she finished cleaning, she wondered whether today would be one where he would hoist himself into the high-backed seat for further attention. She hoped not. His bitter, volumous release made her want to vomit. She didn't dare. Today she was safe, it seemed. Tahlen left the pool and began to dress without her. She looked at him with confusion, still chained to the side of the pool, still in the warm waters. Normally she was expected to assist him. He turned to her as he finished dressing. "I have much to do today," he told her, folding his thick arms in front of him. "I have no time to entertain you." She almost laughed at the ridiculousness of the statement, but even the laughter would have felt like a form of crying. He continued, "We found the enemy to our rear, last night, and butchered them in the early morning." She looked up, her eyes wide. James... "Oh, don't worry," he continued, "your fool husband escaped with a few of his more loyal followers. But that's what I'm up to today...hunting. While I'm gone, I'm giving you to someone who has earned a reward." He smiled at her nervous confusion. "While you slept this morning, Anne Jall came by at my request to inspect you with her power. I've had her checking...if anything had taken, as it were. And by god if she didn't discover this morning that you're pregnant." No. Nina felt her legs give out. Her knees hit the bottom of the pool, and the water covered her to her breasts. Her hands clutched her lean stomach. For the first time in weeks, she cried in the daylight. "Yes," he went on casually, "this is quite a problem." He tapped a finger against his temple. "See, I can't have you doing anything foolish. I don't want my child harmed. So Anne is going to help you find your...inner loyalty to me. And in return, you will serve her until I return." Not Anne. Not the witch. "No. Please. I won't..." "I know you won't," he smiled. The doorway to the tent parted, and Anne walked in with an expression like a child opening a large present. She nodded to the emperor. "Your majesty." She began undressing without shame. Nina supposed he'd seen her nude before. He expected much from those who served him. Her dress fell to the floor, leaving only her slip. He looked at her body with unveiled distain. "Remember the work first." She smiled at him. "Oh, the spell is done. All that remains," she held up one hand and snapped her fingers. Red light burst through Nina's vision, and she gasped. Then, it was gone. "Interesting," Tahlen muttered. "And the effects are...devotion?" "Not exactly," she finished undressing and began wading into the pool. "She doesn't feel any differently towards you or anyone else than she did before, but she is now physically incapable of disobeying your orders." She walked over to where Nina knelt fighting her tears. She stroked the side of the smaller woman's face, smearing tears on Nina's cheek. "She will still hate every moment of it. In fact, she may hate it even more. Sometimes I...accidentally...increase their displeasure." She chuckled and petted the kneeling girl. As lewd as it was, having this woman's hips directly before her and having one of her wrinkled hands resting on her head, Nina's will to fight was gone. The last pieces of her ability to defy them was gone, her cause lost. "If you wouldn't mind," Anne said over her shoulder to Tahlen. "Nina," his voice boomed in her mind. Was that an effect of the spell? "You will do nothing to bring risk to my child. Furthermore, until I return, you will everything that is necessary to please Anne Jall. You will obey her completely, and without pause." The echo died away. Nina felt no different. Maybe the spell hadn't worked...but she knew better than that. Above her, Anne positively purred. "Thank you, your majesty," she tightened her grip on Nina's hair and pulled her face towards her body. Nina didn't fight it, though the repugnant sight and smell of the old woman's sex made her shiver. She had no ability to fight them. Tahlen had no interest in the scene. "You've done well," he said over his shoulder as he left. Anne looked down at the quiet, shivering creature whose nose was being gently tickled by her trim pubic hair. "Look at me," she whispered, the excitement overwhelming. Little green eyes looked up into her own, scared and desperate. "Now kiss." Lightening shot up her insides as Nina's lips pressed softly to her sex. Even more arousing was the purity of the sadness that swept those eyes beneath her. "Good, good." She flexed her hips slightly, and felt the pressure of that mouth against her. She looked around, and found one of the bath slaves. It was the teenaged brunette. "You," Anne said to the young woman, her hands still on Nina's head, "tell me...how often do you get to...indulge yourself?" The girl's eyes lit up. "Never, mistress." He cheeks flushed excitedly. Nina felt disappointment mix in with the disgust and fear. This girl, as close as she had to a friend, was as eager to abuse her as any of them. Anne clicked her tongue. "That's a shame. It really is," she backed up towards the high-back seat, pulling Nina along by the grip in her hair. "Come over here and give this slut guidance. You have a talented mouth. Teach her, and after I've seen stars maybe you can see what it's like to take a ride in the seat." She hopped up into the seat, as the girl eagerly came down into the water. Nina wanted nothing more than to fight, or to kill herself before they could do more to her. But from the moment the emperor had given his command her will was no longer her own. The girl leaned over her, fingers tightening in her hair, and flicked her tongue against Nina's ear. "Open your mouth," she whispered. Nina did everything they told her to. -- "You're not actually considering accepting, are you?" James Rawlings, last king of York, final remaining free state in the known world, looked at the generals huddled inside his tent. His tattered clothes, unkempt hair, and week-old beard made him look every bit as defeated as he felt. Worry lines had sprouted like fresh scars during the eight months since his army had been chewed up in a surprise attack. Eight months of running away. "Do you have an alternate suggestion?" He asked quietly. Most of the men had the decency to look awkward. But Piani pounded his fist into his other hand. Having looked rough and violent all of his adult life, he showed the least wear and tear from the long campaign of anybody in the group. But, as James knew well, even he was suffering much in this war. "We keep fighting," he delivered each word like swinging a sword. "We've cut most of their supply arteries..." "And they just redraw the routes," Lang's deep voice and thick accent cut through. "What good is that?" Piani turned on him. "It slows them. It gives us time to find weak spots." "Son," the old man shook his head, "they have no weak spots." Piani half looked ready to call him a coward, but even in his rage he wouldn't dare. Finally, he looked away. "I'll not surrender," he said almost to himself. "I'll not." "Nor I," James promised. They turned to look at him. Piani blinked. "Then why..." "Because," James interrupted, "I will not pass up any opportunity for new information about our enemy. Because I know that Tahlen wants to have his victory on the field, not through assassination. Because..." his eyes moved with intensity around at the people in the room, "...I will not refuse an opportunity to learn anything about my wife." They stood silent for a moment. Flickering light from the dying fire cast shadows around the room. "Son," Lang said sadly, "It's been well over a year she's been gone. You'd best be praying that she's dead." James met his gentle eyes with fiery ones. "In my weakest moments," he said, "I do." With a wave, he dismissed them. None of them saw the lone tear he allowed to fall to the dirt floor. -- It seemed impossible. From the time Tahlen's escort guard lead him past the first tents, to the time they reached the center of the great camp, James walked past endless humanity for hours. It scared him...these were a far cry from his scattered troops. They were well- equipped, and clearly still well-fed. They didn't even bother to watch him walk by; he was no longer any significant threat to them. The massive tent at the center, heavily guarded and ornately decorated, was awe-inspiring just by itself. He thought of his own ragged covering, a tight fit even with his small group of generals. The structure before him could probably bunk an entire company. A light push at his back encouraged him through the opening. He walked in, trying to look confident and unaffected, and waited for his eyes to adjust to the low light. When they did, he saw Emperor Tahlen. Standing large in front of a large wooden table laden with maps, he watched James enter with his hands on his hips. He was shirtless, his massive frame glistening with sweat and looking almost inhuman. Even his biggest guards couldn't compete with his bulk. He nodded at James with a yellow-toothed smile. His right hand held a tight grip on a metal ring. The chain from that ring hung down, and on the other end of it was Nina. James's breath caught in his throat, and his vision blurred until he feared he would pass out. He shook his head, unable to breathe. It was her. She knelt silently at Tahlen's feet, wearing only a string of diamonds that hung on her hips. A stretch of soft blue fabric barely three inches wide hung down from that belt, hiding her most intimate place, but aside from that three inches her entire body was exposed. James felt pain in his hand. He was clenching his fist so tightly, he was drawing blood. He tried to gain control of his emotions, but couldn't. There was no controlling himself in the face of this. Nina was visibly pregnant. Only a few months from delivery, by the look of it. Lord Tahlen, conductor of genocide and murderer of free will, had planted his seed in James's beloved wife. Had grown his child in the love of James's life. In the woman he could not live without. "No," he closed his eyes. "Oh, yes," Tahlen smiled even bigger, loving this. "She's a fine bitch, my friend, I'll grant you that." He tugged casually at her leash, turning her head to the side, and ran his other hand under her chin, massaging her lips with his thick thumb. A dark lipstick coated those lips. Without hesitation, she gently kissed his digit. "You monster," James spat, "you raped my wife!" "Don't be foolish," Tahlen shrugged. "Look at her. Do you see anything but love and affection in those eyes?" James felt his heart trying to tear itself free from his chest. Tahlen was right. She was kissing his thumb and rubbing her face against his filthy palm with utter contentment. Her left hand was absently rubbing the back of his calf. "This is a trick," James said as much to convince himself as to accuse Tahlen. His eyes kept returning to the swollen belly resting on her soft thighs. "Nonsense, my boy," Tahlen casually moved his hand back behind her head and, without looking, gripped her hair and yanked her head back. James stepped forward, rage driving him, but the huge guards on either side gripped his arms and held him fast. Tahlen reached down and unlocked Nina's collar. Then, he took the only weapon at his belt, a large curved knife, and handed it to her. Finally, he threw the chains that had held her to the side. "Stand up, darling," he commanded. Immediately she stood, but remained at his side. James was struck, with her standing, how monumentally tiny she was compared to the bull-like emperor. Tahlen stood proud by the small woman with the massively swollen belly and milk-filled breasts. He looked around the room. "Everybody else leaves. Now." "Sir..." one of the guards started, but he interrupted him. "Now," he growled. "And furthermore, if these two should leave this tent without me, you will safely return them to their own troops no matter what." Startled looking men exited the structure quickly. Only James, Nina, and Tahlen remained. James's mind raced. What was going on? "Nina," Tahlen continued, "go to your husband." She looked at him uncertainly, and moved with quick, little steps to James. He reached out for her, but she ignored his movement. She showed no emotion. When she reached his side, she turned to watch Tahlen. Tahlen followed her over, sauntering. He stood before the couple, massive and intimidating. James had no choice but to look up in order to look him in the eye. "Darling," Tahlen addressed Nina while watching James, "if you want to, you can stab me now. I won't try and stop you." He held out his arms, defenseless against the blade. "You can kill me, leave safely, and live happily ever after with your husband. Or..." he smiled, still watching James, "you can hand me the knife and return to your place at my feet." She didn't even hesitate. In a second's time, she had handed him back the knife and knelt down next to him. James felt the last of his will give out. For a moment, he contemplated rushing the emperor. He wouldn't stand a chance, but it would mean death's release. He looked at Nina, to see her one last time. He saw the bruise. It was faded, hard to see, on her right shoulder towards the back. It had clearly been large when it was made. Realization hit. He was being foolish, allowing himself to be easily manipulated. It was true, his wife had spent more than a year as this monster's plaything, and it was true that she now carried his child (pain chewed his gut at the thought), but that didn't mean that any of this little display had meant a thing. How could Tahlen get her to do this? Think fool, James told himself. Think! The witch women. Of course. This was no defeat. This was a con. "I can see," he said to Tahlen, "that nothing is safe from a man like you." "You see true," the man stroked Nina's head with one massive hand. "And you have taken from me the only thing that really mattered. You have taken it completely," he looked openly at the swollen belly for good measure, ignoring the pain it caused him. "I have little reason left to fight." "You are...surrendering?" Tahlen looked skeptical. "I cannot do that," James admitted. "And I do not think you would want it." Tahlen said nothing. "Am I wrong," James arched one eyebrow, "in thinking that it is important to you that the world see you claim your victory with one final battle? That you want for there to be no question remaining of your total dominance?" "You are an astute man," Tahlen looked at him through narrow eyes, evaluating. "And I am a proud man. But I am no fool. I have an offer. You may have your victory, at a time and place of your choosing. You designate it, and my army will stand before you. On open ground, we cannot win." "Why, though?" "I want to think that, by giving you what you want, I may encourage you to give me what I want." "You can't have her," Tahlen growled, his grip absently tightened on the small head beneath him. "No," James looked at her. "It's too late for that." "Then what?" "I want you to promise that your men will immediately and permanently stop their harassment of the people of this land. You have many countries. Leave the families of my men, the people they left behind, to live in peace. To live under your rule." Tahlen shrugged. "And yourself?" "We both know that I have to die, for your victory to be complete." "We do," Tahlen said without emotion, as though they were discussing the weather. "I am prepared to lead my men in their final charge, to die in battle, if it means that my people will be safe." Tahlen looked carefully at him, appraising the offer. "I accept this offer. But I want you to understand that, if you attempt to double-cross me, the people of your country will suffer for it." "What can I possibly do against such numbers as I have seen today?" "Nothing at all." It was not a boast. James nodded. "I'm sorry to say that I agree." "Then it's a deal. Expect to wait at least a month before I contact you with a time and place. Keep your army hidden and, by all means," Tahlen grinned, "continue to snap at my supply lines. It's a wasted exercise, but it would be a shame for the world to think you had just handed it to me so easily." "Don't pretend this has been easy," James shot back, anger flashing in his eyes. "It's been a fight, for both of us." Tahlen shrugged. "I admit you have been my most difficult opponent, and for that I congratulate you. But I hardly think I've lost nearly as much to this war as you have." James watched him silently, tears pooling in his eyes. "I suppose not." "You should go, now. My men will escort you to where your own party of guards waits. You will find them unharmed. I will send word to you about this final 'confrontation' shortly. In the meantime, I have other things to attend to." He took the hand that was not resting on Nina's head and hooked his thumb inside the waistband of his trousers. He pulled slightly, causing them to lower just enough for James to see the beginning of his dark, thick pubic patch. The muscles of his lower stomach twitched with excitement, and his other hand slipped down from the top of Nina's head to the back, ready to draw her to him. He gripped her long hair tight. James looked away in disgust. He felt his body try to vomit, as though expelling his breakfast would be tantamount to expelling what he had just seen. He held it back, though. He turned, dizzily, and moved towards the door. "Oh, James. One more thing." He paused, woozy on his feet. "I want to add another item to our deal." "That's not happening." "Oh, I think it is. Turn around." Slowly, James turned, terrified he might see his wife engaged in some lewd act. Instead, he saw they hadn't moved. He did, however, see Nina looking longingly up at the dark hair reaching over the partially lowered pants. "You see," Tahlen continued, "I forgot to mention something..." he snapped, and a guard entered with two children in tow. James gasped. Cindy and Jane, caked in dirt and sprouting bruises but otherwise looking healthy, were pushed to the ground by the vicious-looking guard. "What...what..." James stuttered. "The addition," Tahlen continued casually, "is this: if you do as you have promised, I am willing to consider letting them live. I will even have my men find a nice family for them to join. They will not be harmed any more than they have been, on my life." James stared at their fearful faces. "In return for?" Tahlen smiled, and nodded down towards Nina's eager eyes. "The girls will live. They will be safe. But in return," his smile grew larger, meaner, "I want you to watch this happen." The world shifted beneath him. "No," James sputtered, "please, no..." Tahlen shrugged. "Guard, bring the girls down to the slave pits. Give them to the slaves to do with as they will." The guard gripped the small girls' arms. "No!" James shouted. "Alright, alright..." he had to struggle to even say it. "I'll stay. I'll stay." Tahlen grinned. "Good, good." He turned to the guard. "You may return the girls to their cells, for now. Send in two of my guard" As they left he both released Nina and pulled his hand away from his trousers. Two armed guards entered the room, watching James carefully. "Get comfortable," Tahlen said to James, as he stared lustily down at the prostrate form beside him. "Grab a chair. But," he said warningly, "you will watch." His fists clenched and he turned to stand before her. He towered over the pregnant woman; her small face looked up at him with devotion. "Begin," he said, his voice husky. Her hands reached up, looking tiny on his body. She gripped the top of the trousers, and pulled. -- "You agreed to what?!?" General Piani threw his hand up to his face in exasperation. "Is this a joke?!" "No. Yesterday, I told Emperor Tahlen that we would meet him in open battle, so that he may defeat us. I aim to show up for that battle." Stunned silence met him. Then Piani moaned. "Why?!" James Rawlings, even more haggard, defeated, and weary looking than ever, moved his gaze around the room. Even Lang looked like James had just stabbed him in the heart. Maybe he had. "It gives us time," he said simply. "Time to do what?" Lang asked quietly. James sighed. "My friends, I have just seen things that will never allow me peace again, no matter the outcome of this fight. I have suffered much, and not without reason." He pointed east, keeping his eyes fixed on his men. "Emperor Tahlen is a wise man, but his cunning falters in the face of his lust. Even though he wanted me to believe that my wife was his willing plaything, he couldn't deny himself the pleasure of beating her for even a short period of time. He reveals himself in these ways. By allowing him to make the choice, to say when and where the battle occurs, we are defeating him." "I don't follow this logic," Piani muttered. "Simple," James said. "Tahlen's wants outweigh his strategic thinking. He wants a grandly displayed victory, a crushing blow against the cause of freedom. And he wants everyone to see it. So that means two things: first, he will want the battle to occur on the plains of Aeroth." "Why there?" "He wants it to be easily visible, but he wants it to look real, too. It is highly plausible to imagine that he might chase our main force out onto the plain, where we would take up defensive positions on the slopes of the Aerothian Mountains." "He would take high casualties, there." "But he would win." They nodded silently. He continued, "He would win and many people would witness it. Just to be safe, he will wait three months. That should be just enough time for him to gather together a collection of governors and representatives to see it happen. The faster word spreads the better. He will call them to him with promises that his final campaign is about to begin, and they can come and watch history unfold." "You sound awfully sure of this, son," Lang said, though he sounded suddenly hopeful. James smiled sadly at him. "I am, old friend. We know where the fight will occur, and we know when. I fully intend to use that information to get my wife away from that beast." "One question," Piani looked slowly around the room, "what about the witch women?" -- Twelve weeks later the witch women were dead, killed by one of their own. Anne Jall stood over their corpses, a strangely jealous rage still coursing through her Smoke hovered around the room, making her eyes red. There had been twelve witches in this world, as there had always been, all having sworn allegiance to this army. Eleven bodies covered the floor in the large tent they had been given for their communion, practices, and bathing purposes. Anne looked around the room. There was no doubt they were all dead. They had never been as powerful as she, not by half. They never had a chance. She had killed her own. There, in the center of the room, was the source of her jealous rage. The slave Nina Rawlings, pregnancy over and waist narrow, knelt wearing her usual diamond belt. Her terrified eyes wide and her soft lips trembling, she watched Anne with intense fear. Her chin was wet and her hair messed from the woman who had been standing over her moments ago. She looked beautiful, as she always did. Anne Jall preferred women, and sometimes enjoyed men. But she did not desire either. Instead, Anne Jall's sexuality centered solely on Anne Jall. An unapologetic self-worshipper, she cared only for her own wants and desires. This basic philosophy had made her a perfect match for the emperor's approach to life and politics, which focused on acquiring power and everything that came with it, so she had been happy to join with him. She had no desire for the power itself, only for getting what she wanted. With a witch's notoriously strong sexual appetite, her spoiled approach to life frequently centered on her own sensual pleasure. Occasionally, men were fun as playthings, but a well- versed tongue was always preferable, and women had such soft velvet tongues. Though she found other individuals sexually attractive, what she really felt was that the idea of being pleasured by some people was more exciting than most others. Sometimes this was due to their ability, sometimes their personality and, occasionally, their appearance. Anne Jall liked to make strong people worship her like a goddess. She liked to make beautiful people adore her aging figure. Nina Rawlings was both of these things. So, when she had returned from a journey to the south to learn that, in the time she had been gone, Nina had given birth to the emperor's son and swiftly recovered (with a witches assistance), Anne's body fluttered with the memory of her emperor's promise. This slave was for him and Anne to use, only. They would share with no one. And when the child was born, he would grant her an entire month to indulge herself with the new mother's body. Instead, she had learned from one of her maids, the girl had been given to the other witches to use communally two weeks after the birth. That meant that Nina, property of Anne Jall, had been serving the hungry desires of eleven fools in the communal witch tent. And she had been doing it for nearly a month. Anne had rushed to the tent, livid, to see one of the unworthy fools using this thing that was hers by all rights. Nina had been on her knees, facing away from the door, in front of a naked, fat younger witch named Cecile. Anne felt rage at the sight of that foolish bitch's flushed face and open mouth as she pistoned her hips against the kneeling woman. Wordless moans had burned Anne's ears, as Cecile's fists held Nina's head tight against her and her fat thighs tensed with her movements. Anne had always seen Cecile as something of a brat, but kept her alive because she was easy to manipulate, to control. But she was a vastly inferior witch, and a fool. Seeing her writhe in pleasure and rock against Nina's lips had exponentiated Anne's rage. Still, she didn't fully understand the anger that had ignited in her, or why she had immediately struck them all dead. All she knew was that she couldn't stay. The emperor would now see her as a threat. He would be right. She would leave, and she would take what was hers. She had to move quickly. The lead elements of the army were already approaching the enemy on the Aeroth Plains. She and the other witches would be expected to join the battle within the hour. Probably, the dumb whore who had left her scent on Nina's breath was using the kneeling slave as a way to exorcise her pent up excitement about the upcoming fight. For a witch, battle and sex were not so different. There wasn't much time. She strutted over to Nina. Beautiful, helpless Nina...of course, she had seen the queen at her best, and knew that this was a dangerous and strong-willed woman by nature. Even now they hadn't been able to take that away from her, only circumvented it. The thought of how strong this woman was, deep down, aroused her. She shook her head to focus. "Listen to me, girl," she said, framing the younger woman's face with her hands and letting her power flow in through the connection. Nina stared fearfully at her, unable to disobey. "You are going to sleep. You will not awaken for two days time. While you sleep, you will forget everything you know. The people, places, and events you have known will be gone from your mind, never to return. Only your first name will you remember." Nina looked up at her, unblinking, motionless, and horrified. "You will feel, from that moment on, a great and powerful obedience and devotion for only me. You can still hate me, child...in fact, I encourage it, I command it...but you will also feel a great desire to submit to me, to please me. It will be more important than anything. Everything else in your world will be small against the intensity of your hatred, and worship, of Anne Jall." She cut off the flow of power, releasing the girl's head. Immediately, Nina fell to the ground, breathing shallowly. It was a dangerous spell, and there was a great probability that the slave woman was now dying a quick and thoughtless death. Oh, well, thought Anne. If I am without her, at least it won't be for sharing her lips with fools. She snapped her fingers, and the collar opened. It fell to the floor, powerless now. She had one more task ahead of her, before she collected her new property and left: Emperor Guyen Tahlen had lied to her, used her, and he would die for it. To hell with his revolution. -- "Now." Arrows tipped with fire fell upon the plains, amidst the approaching mass of humanity. Hitting the ground, they immediately ignited the underground trench filled with the alcohol-like brew designed by General Lang. Flames burst among the lines, like hell itself was coming to claim the soldier. They died slowly, with great commotion, begging for help or death and screaming their last. Their friends continued on. More than half of the assaulting force still approached the small York force, and it remained sizable. But at least there would be no hope for reinforcements soon. With the high ground working in their favor, James Rawlings's men would cut them down. "So far so good," General Piani grunted. "Damn good," Lang laughed, proud and alive. "We're chewing them up." Piani nodded, but pointed at the huge lines in the distance. "There's a lot more work to be done before we can even begin to get hopeful." "I agree," James said, watching the fight carefully. The command post sat just back from the main lines, but on the steep base of the mountain that left him high enough to see everything that was happening. "But we've got a few tricks left. We may not even have to take this fight to the caves, if we're lucky." "Lucky is right," Piani muttered. "I hate those goddamn things." "They're safe," James shook his head. "Safe enough. What I don't understand," he pointed to the confused, disjointed movement of the enemy troops in the distance, "is what's going on there. Not even a force this big is too complicated for a man like Tahlen to control, we've seen proof of that. It almost seems here like the individual corps are moving independently of one another. Like this isn't one massive army, but instead is a dozen normal-sized ones." He thought for a moment. "Like nobody's in command." "Maybe it's a trick of some kind," Piani offered. "I don't think so," Lang shook his head. "Tahlen wouldn't attempt a complicated trick here. That might make him look bad in front of the spectators." "Agreed," James said, still watching carefully as the huge lines moved. "Wait. Look to the right. Is that one retreating?!" "By God, it looks to be!" Piani whooped. "What on earth is happening? That wing didn't even engage yet." James looked at him ominously. "And where," he cocked an eyebrow, "do you suppose the witch women are?" -- She shook her head, confused, and sat up. Where was she? What was going on? It was dark. She was on the floor...why? She couldn't remember. That was it. That was it exactly. She couldn't remember anything. No. She remembered her name. Only that. Nina. Nina who? That was less clear. It almost seemed to fit her memory that she had no last name. Her eyes adjusted to the light, and it became clear that she was in a large room, like a hotel. It was a nice room, from what she could make out; the kind wealthy people might stay in. Was she wealthy? She stood up, carefully. Embarrassment ran through her as she realized what she wore. A belt laced with something hard wrapped low around her hips. In the direct front and back of it, a thin fabric hung down to her knees. The fabric strip covered her intimate places, but not well. It couldn't have been more than a finger length wide. Did people actually see her wear this? She put her hands to her backside. The fabric was so narrow that it slipped down between the cheeks, effectively revealing her entire rear to the world. The belt hung low and thin enough that, had she had any pubic hair, the top of it would have been visible to the world. Which lead to the question: why didn't she have any pubic hair? She traced one finger down the curve of the muscles that lead from her hips to her inner thighs. She felt exposed. Never mind that her breasts were completely uncovered; if she moved the wrong way she expected that anyone watching her from the front would get a view between her legs that would be embarrassing to show even her husband. Husband. Did she have one? What man would have a woman for a wife who dressed such as this, even in private? Not even whores would wear such a thing. She looked around the room. In the bed, big enough for two, she could clearly see a figure under the covers. She squinted, but nothing was revealed. Was this her husband? Why was he in the bed, and her on the floor? She reached forward, nervously, and tapped at the figure's shoulder. The torches suddenly lit of their own accord, startling and blinding her. She staggered back. As she shook her head and let her eyes adjust to the brightness, she saw the figure sit up in the bed. Sitting on the edge, naked, was a middle aged woman. Nina blushed, uncertain whether she should worry more about covering herself or averting her own gaze. The woman looked upset. "What do you want?" She demanded. "I...I...do you know who I am? What I'm doing here?" Nina carefully examined the floor, not wanting to humiliate herself further. "Is this a joke?!" The woman snarled, even angrier. "You woke me up for fool questions?" "No, please..." Nina wanted to run. "Look at me, girl." A strange feeling tickled Nina's middle, and she was surprised to discover that she wanted to look, suddenly. She wanted to please this strange woman. It scared her to think of it. She looked up. The woman sat there, brow knitted, hair tangled. She showed many signs of her age, although Nina suspected men would say she was far from ugly. Her breasts sagged a bit, but not a lot, with light stretch marks lurking near their top. Her stomach was small, but a fatty paunch lurked in the space between her navel and feminine areas. Her legs were thin, with a few days' stubble on them, though her pubic mound was well trimmed. Nina blushed at the thought, but was mostly terrified that it seemed so normal, so natural, to observe this woman's body in such an intimate way. "What do you remember?" The woman barked, lazily scratching her lower belly. "I...I'm Nina. Is that right?" "Yes," the woman watched her carefully. "Is that all?" "I...I guess so." "Well, Nina," the woman seemed pleased, suddenly, "I guess that fall stirred your brains even more than we thought. Do you remember the fall?" "N...no..." "I suppose not. Well, tell me what you feel right now." It was an odd question. Nina thought..."I feel a strange feeling," she admitted. "Like...when you told me to look at you...I..." "Obedient." Nina blushed. "I guess." "Good. At least your personality wasn't affected. You are indeed obedient to me. You are my slave." Nina's jaw fell with shock. "No, that can't be..." The woman's face turned dark. "I assure you it is, and you will find soon enough that I don't appreciate such sass. I never have, not from you." "But..." "Fetch me that water," the woman waved towards the counter, where a tall glass of water stood waiting. Immediately, Nina felt the same urge to do as she was told. It didn't feel good to obey...not really...but it felt necessary. It was more like blinking. If she tried not to, she couldn't succeed for long. Quickly, she retrieved the water for the woman and walked towards her. She was embarrassed to be so exposed, as she saw the woman's eyes on her. But even more horrible was the total openness and casual commonality, of her new (old?) mistress's nudity. The woman drank the water, handed her the glass, and Nina returned it to the shelf. "Good girl," Nina's mistress said absently. Nina blushed. There was a small, potent response to the affirmation there, under her skin. But there was something else, something stronger... "I hate you." It shocked her so much, hit her so fully, that she blurted it out without thinking. The older woman only smiled. "You always have, my dear. Come," she opened her legs and pointed between them. Nina desperately tried to avoid looking at what the woman was revealing, even as she lost the fight against the urge to obey. She sank to her knees, and the woman held a foot up to her. "Rub it," she commanded. Nina began massaging the foot, and the woman moaned. "Good girl," she said again. And again Nina felt a mix of mild pleasure and intense hatred. "The thing is," the woman continued, as Nina fixed her gaze on the foot in her hands in order to avoid seeing anything further, "pleasing me is the most important thing in your world. Neither of us knows why. Never have. We stopped trying to figure it years ago. I don't really care too much for you either, but you know that. Or you did yesterday. I don't really care much for anybody, except me. You stupid bitch," Nina tensed at the insult. The woman laughed down at her. "You're a thing to me, a worm. I'm better than you. But you're convenient, and you desperately want to please me, so I let you. My name is Anne Jall. I am a goddess to you, and you are nothing to me. As it should be. All that matters," the other leg came up over Nina's shoulder, and the ankle hooked behind her neck, " is that you continue to please me." Nina winced, fear curling in her stomach. The ankle applied pressure, drawing her down towards that fearful place where Anne's thin, hair-speckled thighs met her body. Her obedience wouldn't let her fight it. Panic rose in her chest. The other foot left Nina's grasp. Suddenly hands were in her hair, pulling her towards the woman's soft folds. "Lick me," she commanded. Raw hatred filled Nina. It was stronger than any fear or disgust. The coldness in the older woman's voice, the raw indifference to Nina's state, made her livid. She desperately longed to kill this woman, to make her death last for days, even weeks. But more than that, she wanted to lick her mistress like she'd been told to. So she did. -- Emperor Tahlen was dead, his forces divided and his generals engaged in civil war over quickly shrinking gains. Conquered free nations were rising up again in rebellion, and the surviving army of York was leading the way. But the war was far from over. Somewhere in the fog of victory, James had managed to delegate the many tasks ahead to other men. As they moved excitedly, swiftly, to finish saving the world, he was packing to leave. She hadn't been there. Nobody knew what had happened to Nina. All he had been able to learn was that she had disappeared the first day of the battle, about the same time the witch woman Anne Jall had murdered her own people and the emperor. Anne Jall was missing, now, too, and that was not likely to be a coincidence. "You've got to stay, lad." James turned towards Lang's voice, and smiled sadly. "You know I can't." "Where will you go, though? They could be anywhere." "South, I think. Anne Jall almost certainly has my wife, and she would want to stick to the places she knows best. Kath'rahim seems a safe place to start." "Son," Lang put his hand on James's shoulder, "if you were any threat to her, I think she'd have killed you already." "The last she heard, I'd made it clear that I'd given up on saving my wife. Defeating the imperial army doesn't change that impression." "But if you do find her..." "Then one of us will die." Lang sighed, and squinted to the south. "That's a lot of land, my boy." "I've got a lot of time. And more than enough money to get by." Lang nodded. "Who will you take?" "You need as many men as you can hang on to. I've got three of my best guards with me. That's enough to keep brigands at bay, but not enough to create trouble." "And the baby?" They had found Nina's child in the care of the Emperor's maids. It was a healthy, beautiful baby boy. James supposed some had suspected he would kill it. He couldn't even think to...that little boy was the only part of his wife he left. James smiled at Lang. "Piani is going to watch over him, until we return." "Hane Piani? The Hane Piani?!" Lang feigned horrified shock. James laughed. "The secret softy, I suppose." He became serious. "General Piani feels a great responsibility in all of this, and he ought not to. Further, he lost the last of his kin to this war. This will be good for both him and the child, I think." "I won't be seeing you again, I suppose." James sighed. "Not without a miracle, old friend." He climbed up onto his horse. He wasn't taking any guards. He had to move too quickly to waste his time with followers. But Lang didn't need to know that. He jerked the reins, and headed south. -- It never seemed to taste any better. She swallowed, and again, to the soundtrack of his grunts. Afterwards, she waited to disengage until he pulled away. She just held it in her mouth, letting it shrink. She knew her mistress would want her to do as good a job as possible, and that meant letting him decide when. Unceremoniously, he took her head in his hands and pushed her away. She fell back on her hands, looking up at him. His taste remained in her mouth. She ran her arm across her chin, wiping off the drool. The fat man lifted his trousers, coughed in a thick way that suggested disease, and turned to leave. The other man was waiting outside. He grinned as the door opened, revealing three missing teeth. "How was it?" he asked. He was thinner and taller than the other man, as well as younger. Still, only patches of hair remained on his greasy scalp. He scratched at his unshaven neck, and she saw a large wart decorating his fingers. "How do you think?" the other man grunted. "Best deal we ever made." "You have her do anything, you know..." the man looked at her with a lecherous interest that made her nervous, "...real dirty?" The fat man coughed again, and spit on the floor. "Depends on what you'd call dirty." The skinny man clapped his hands and laughed. "I gotta get started. I'll talk to you more after. This bitch is gonna do things my wife would never dream of doing. Things even that whore outside won't do, no matter the money." "Huh," the fat man grunted indifferently. "Just don't break it. Don't wanna mess this deal over." The skinny man was walking towards her. "I wouldn't risk that for nuthin'. You tell the owner of this meat that the stupid whore out front gave me..." "Shut up," the other one snapped. "She don't need to know." "True enough. So one hour each, every other day, right?" "That's how it is." "For as long as they stay?" "Yup." He gave her that cold, calculating look again. Fear ran through her. "She say how long that'd be?" "Till January, at least. Probably longer." The fat man coughed. "Waitin' out the winter, I'd guess." The skinny man waved his friend off, and turned towards her. With the larger man gone, his chest swelled a little bit as he looked down at her. Small men like to feel big, and she suspected that's exactly what he was going to use her to do. She hated her mistress so very much. In the months since her memory had gone, they had moved frequently. This was far from the first time mistress had used Nina's body as collateral in finding lodging. "Why spend money," she explained, "when people value skill so much more?" So mistress lived and ate well on the agony Nina suffered from servicing these slime balls. She would use her strange powers to cure any disease Nina caught from the filthy pigs that used her. Nina also suspected that Anne had sterilized her, because her woman's time never came. Anne's would, and she would use her power to dispel it. Nina's never did. Anne seemed to revel in humiliating Nina, but mostly she never tired of indulging herself in the younger woman's sexual services. She was relaxed, content. She had started to gain noticeable weight. Most of this accumulated on her stomach, hips, and rear. Each of these were places Nina had frequent occasions to examine up close. Anne's legs remained slight under her growing frame. Just like the deposits the men left with their veiny organs, Nina found that Anne's taste never became any more pleasant, no matter how often she experienced it. As disgusting and loathsome as she found her mistress to be, Nina knew that she could never be free of her. This was her purpose in life, serving Anne Jall. It was the only thing that she wanted to do. To rub Anne's muscles and serve her breakfast and bathe her and carry her things and allow men into her own body so that mistress wouldn't have to take two night's rent out of the purse of money she carried, which had enough in it to buy two hundred buildings such as this. Nina wanted to murder Anne Jall, but instead she knew she would make a thousand skinny, diseased men feel big in any way they desired if it was what her mistress commanded of her. An hour later, she returned to her mistress's quarters. Anne was sitting in the large cushioned chair, wearing her hair up. She was reading a large book of some kind. The blue blouse and dressy skirt Nina had dressed her in as she stood waiting (she said it was too cold these days not to wear something, though she kept Nina in her tiny belted fabric) made her look regal. She looked up at Nina, and frowned. "Wash yourself, slut. You smell like a whore's undergarments." "Yes, mistress," fury pounded at Nina's temples. Kill her, hurt her. Just march over and do away with the bitch. She removed her one garment, and climbed into the bath. The water was cold, left over from her mistress's morning dip. Nina knew this before she'd climbed in, though, because she was the one who had to scrub and clean the old bitch, and massage her shoulders until she felt like getting out. Anne watched over her book as Nina soaked in her dirty bath water, and the sight gave her a tingle of pleasure. "Silly bitch," she said sternly, "you're face is one of the dirtiest parts of you. And that's the part I will be needing later. Dip your whole self in." Nina clenched her jaw. She knew Anne only wanted her to do this so she could see Nina submerged in her dirty bathwater. Still, Nina obediently slipped under. The chilly water made her shoulders twitch, and her fingertips numb. After a moment, she came back up. "Good girl," she heard as she wiped the water from her eyes. She wanted to scream. She would have killed herself already, but even that was denied her. Her death would inconvenience her mistress, and she couldn't do that. She couldn't even dream of anything but mistress. "Did you do a good job today?" Anne asked as she went back to reading. "I think so," Nina said, shivering, waiting for permission to get out of the tub. "Tell me about it," the woman seemed distracted, but Nina knew she was listening. "The fat one is normal enough. He reminds me of the one from two towns ago." "Heanington." "Yes," she nodded. "And the skinny fellow?" "He has...stranger tastes." "You were gone a long time." "Yes, mistress." "I bet you're thirsty." Nina wanted to cry. "Have a drink, dear." It was a long time since she'd given up fighting Anne's commands. She slipped down into the water, and slurped at the unclean, freezing liquid. -- This was getting him nowhere. Maybe, it had been impossible from the start. James ran his hand through his hair. Defeatism was not a familiar feeling to him, and he didn't care for it. He shook it off. He had spent the last few months exploring the border towns of the southern lands, focusing on larger communities. He figured Anne Jall would have a hard time getting comfortable in a small town. Maybe he was overthinking. Every town he came to, he tried to imagine them there, walking the streets or hiding behind some closed window. Was Nina there? Had she been, once? No. He didn't think so. She must be further south. Part of him tensed at that. He was, after all, the king of the one nation that was truly seen as the enemy, here in Kath'rahim. He was pondering moving down into the belly of the beast. It was unlikely he'd be recognized, but that didn't mean there wasn't risk. He would do this for her. He would. James Rawlings saddled his horse and, with a small glance back north, towards home, began his trip into unfamiliar territory. -- The fat man's name was John. In the two months since mistress had brought her to this place, he had stopped being so easy to please. It started after he had run his skinny partner, Dale, off in what he said was a monetary dispute. With Nina all to himself for the full two hours, he'd started exploring. He liked to drag it out, now. Often, when Nina showed up in the back office where the men worked on her, he would have two or three friends with him. Usually men, but John had taken to bringing his wife with him, too. If four wasn't enough to satiate his obsessions that night, he would take to offering money from strangers to "get in on the deal." Nina shuttered at the horror of pleasuring so many ugly, sweaty, gross men. Drinking them down, feeling some of them release themselves inside her. Her body contorting to accept them. She could not take her own life, but death was welcome to do it for her any time. If Anne would let it. John's wife, Marro, hated the whole thing at first. She was surprisingly thin, waifish almost, and tragically ugly. Poor thing probably didn't have any other options besides old John. Nina almost laughed at the thought. As if she ought to be pitying others for their lack of choice. Marro had suffered through two sessions, with John insisting and telling her to "Relax! You don't even have to do anything! This little bitch loves to do it for you, you'll see. Show her how you love to do it, bitch!" Nina actually felt guilty as she worked, knowing the skinny redhead was mortified by the entire event. It somehow made the whole thing more humiliating than it was. After the second such session, Nina's mistress had overheard John complaining that his wife needed to learn to enjoy herself. Anne had offered "assistance," and the very next day Marro had become worse than any of the men. She had thought of things for Nina to do that even mistress hadn't. When Nina had given her reports on these acts, Anne had flushed with arousal and insisted on trying them for herself. She seemed just as pleased with the results as John's wife, and Nina sunk further into hell. Marro and Anne had become close friends, and Marro spent long hours up in the mistress's quarters with her and Nina. Both women seemed to live to find ways to exercise their power over the girl. Both had laughed and handed Nina over when John peeked his head in the door and observed that there were "two fine and beautiful horses in the hotel stable, both well-trained boys in need of some attention." It was nearly lunch time. Nina was fantasizing, as she often did, of the different ways she would kill her mistress. Nina was under her mistress's skirt. She was sucking and slurping at the sex that was her world. Nausea swept through her. Juices coated her lips and chin, and it was hot and humid under the billowing skirt. Anne sat in her chair, head back and legs open, as the girl worked. Her eyes were closed as she moaned. "Such a good girl," she muttered. She loved to say that. She knew it made Nina furious. Anne continued to gain weight, though she was still far from obese. As she got bigger, she grew more and more fond of making Nina explore and pleasure her entire body. The more unattractive she grew, the more it excited her to force Nina to treat her like a perfect goddess. Her morning pleasure, though, was usually more like this. Relaxing, prolonged, and straightforward. Anne didn't think it strange that, after killing her fellow witches in a jealous rage, she found herself so willing to share Nina with others. When Nina serviced the dirt-caked men downstairs, she did it for Anne. It was just another way of serving her mistress. Anne was very happy any time she could find another new way to play with her toy. She whispered a little spell she particularly enjoyed, which increased her secretions several times over. She heard the noises under her dress get sloppier, wetter, and felt Nina's mouth clamp down upon her. Anne smiled. Her pet had been through this before, and knew what was expected of her. Anne lifted her skirts. She liked to watch her toned, beautiful slave drink down her juices. To see those small green eyes closed in concentration as that little throat worked to take in the mistress's sacred fluids. Like a form of worship. Feeling feisty, she whispered the spell again, compounding it. It thrilled her to see Nina's eyes open wide in surprise, to hear her choke and gag against the growing flood of female secretions. To watch that throat work fast, harder, even as her mouth filled again and again. Anne rolled her hips against that little mouth, and moaned. Marro, sitting in the other chair, watched with excitement. "It's like she's nursing at your body. Like you're feeding her!" She giggled. Anne's heavy breathing briefly became a staccato chuckle. "I am. I want to fill her up." She lifted one foot and ran it along the slave's bare back cheek. Taut and smooth, it stuck out towards the entryway. The thin fabric of Nina's lone costume piece hung between her buttocks. "I want to fill her up with me." She moaned, and arched her hips against the suckling, feeding mouth. She could feel the fluids flowing out of her body. Nina continued to focus only on accepting every drop of the tangy juice, creating a heating suction. Finally, it became too much, and Anne screamed out her pleasure. Then, at last, she undid the spell and allowed the small woman to pull away. Nina was indeed a small woman, now. Marro's constant questioning about the power of witches had led to some fascinating experiments. First they had come up with the idea that Nina shouldn't be so close to Anne's height. In truth, she was already short against the nearly 6 foot woman. But it seemed appropriate for her to be smaller, to be less, than her owner. Besides, one jealousy Anne had hidden from Tahlen was his ability to tower over the girl, creating such an awesome spectacle of control. So after some work Anne had managed to reduce Anne's size slightly, keeping her proportions the same but shaving 6 inches from her. Anne also kept Nina's slender, toned beauty tightly controlled, so that she was small even for her new four foot ten inch frame. The men seemed to enjoy her tininess. Marro was a strange match for Anne. She was mousey, thin and curveless. But where Anne was now fat and saggy, Marro had a dancer's spry movements. She had a natural grace that a man would have found sexy. Of course, Marro's unfortunate looks would ruin that initial feeling. Anne had no interest in Marro sexually. Marro wasn't a strong person. What Anne did like was letting Marro pretend to be strong, at Nina's expense. So, as usual, when Anne's pleasure was finished Nina washed her face and then immediately knelt before Marro. She looked up obediently, ready to do whatever she was told...the only sign of her true feelings the hardness in her eyes. Marro looked down at the quiet, tiny creature. She tapped Nina's full belly with one foot, and Nina let out a small but strongly-scented burp. The two sitting women roared with laughter. "Must have been quite the meal," Marro chuckled. She reached down and tussled Nina's hair, like a child. "You're such a good eater." Anne bit her lower lip, and shifted in her chair. "Tell me it was delicious." Nina turned to look at her. "It was delicious, mistress." Marro looked at Anne, confused. "You've never wanted her to say that before. I thought you liked for her to hate it." Anne shrugged, eyelids half closed with pleasure. "Maybe I'm getting soft." Marro didn't say anything for a moment. She looked from the middle-aged, purring woman to the humiliated creature kneeling before them. "You could make her like it," she said at last. Anne grunted. "Why would I do that?" Marro shrugged. "It's something new. Anyway, I think maybe you want her to like it. Not just to obey you, but truly worship you." "Don't be stupid." "No, I mean it." Marro clicked her tongue. She stood up and undid her skirt. It fell to the floor, leaving her blouse and underdress. She hoisted the undergarment up to her waist. As per usual, Nina leaned in and began kissing her thighs, awaiting permission to do more. In her mind, Nina was fighting the rising panic caused by the conversation. Please, let them not take her mind away from her. She couldn't bear to imagine a life where she truly loved and adored these monsters. She pressed her lips against a bony hip. "Hmm," Anne looked thoughtfully up at the ceiling. "It might be interesting for a while. Just as a change." Marro nodded, turning around to face the wall. Nina's lips continued placing soft kisses, now on the backs of her legs and on her hind cheeks. "I think so," she said. "Not forever, but just to see." She leaned forward slightly, placing one hand on the back of the chair. Then she casually reached back with the other hand and found Nina's face. Nina was kissing her left rear cheek, and Marro gently pushed the small face into her back crease. She met no resistance. Anne looked over at them. Marro had her head thrown back, her back slightly arched, a contented smile on her ugly face as she talked. Nina's face was partially buried in Marro's backside, but Anne could see the jaw movement and occasional cheek-indenting suction as she made out with the thin woman's rear. This was one of her favorite things to watch. She shrugged. "Just for a while," she muttered, and then let her power flow from her source and into Nina's mind. "Focus on what you are doing," she whispered. "Until I say otherwise, you love this. The body before you is as perfect to you as a goddess, and you love and worship it fully." She leaned back, and smiled as a great moan lifted up from the working slave. Nina began writhing as she sucked and licked between the cheeks. Her hands reached up and massaging the flesh before her. Marro gasped, and pushed softly back against the freshly passionate tongue. Her hand reached back again, cupping the side of Nina's face as though to feel the movements of her face as she worked. Anne watched, aroused and thoughtful. This was creating quite the pleasurable visual. "Anything else?" she asked. Marro's eyes were closed, her body moving rhythmically. "Remember Tom Paine?" Anne grunted. Tom was a friend of Marro's husband. He was old and he had a thing for girls who only barely old enough to be wed. Anne had used her powers to reduce Nina's age for a night, so she could watch the queen as a teenager being taken by an old man. "You want that?" Marro's hand left Nina's face and softly cupped her own back cheek. She was in heaven. Anne felt her own passion rising again. "You are still too young," she said, "to feel the need to be worshipped by youth." Marro groaned. "Please," she pushed again against Nina's face. Anne whispered the spell, and Nina lost 15 years of her age. In spite of what Anne had said, Nina's youth and tiny size made Marro look old indeed. "Is that all?" she asked bemusedly. She thought she just might have to try out this new Nina, too, before undoing the new work. "I want to flow into her." Anne humored her, using the same spell she'd used for herself. "Tell her she loves me." Anne did. "Tell her I'm perfect." She did. "Die." In a sudden movement, Marro pushed away from the chair and swung around. In her hand was the large metal candlestick that had set on the table. She drove it against Anne's temple. Blood erupted from her head, and the old woman collapsed to the floor. Marro stood over her and drove the object down again and again upon the witches head. Anne didn't move once to protect herself, she'd been out cold from the first blow. The sounds became wetter. At last, Marro stopped. She stood there, in a blouse and underdress, blood on her feet, looking down at the last witch in the world. She breathed heavily, nervously. Nothing moved. When she was certain her work was done, she turned back to Nina. The small, young creature looked up at her lovingly, lips puffy and loose from their work. Marro smiled. She moved light and dance-like, tiptoeing excitedly over to her new toy. "We will have to leave this place," she said. "Immediately." She lifted her underdress up to expose her sex and smiled down at Nina's flushed face. "One last kiss before we go." Nina leaned in, swamped with a feeling of love and passion she hadn't known in a very long time. Above her stood a goddess of the earth, a statement of perfection so impossibly complete that nothing else would ever compare. -- It was a big town, but James knew where to look. Only the finest hotels would be considered. Anne Jall liked the finer things in life. He turned his horse in the direction of the largest one he could see. As he made his way, he looked around him. This was the furthest south he'd been, and he was amazed to see how similar it was to his own land. The architecture was different, heavy with clay brick and open windows. But in this hot climate, that made sense. The only people who seemed at all different from the northlands were a wild-eyed woman who walked out of the hotel as he pulled up, and the small girl she had with her. He watched them for a moment. They acted strange, hurried. The girl had a cloak and hood covering her, but there was something about her that reminded him of... It was silly. He shook it off. Still, they were an odd set. The taller, scrawny woman climbed up on a horse, but the girl walked alongside her, holding gently on to one exposed ankle. The youth looked up at the skinny blonde with such intensity that, even with her face shadowed by the hood, she revealed her love for the older woman. In the north, women didn't ride astride horses. They were heading in that direction. He turned away, back towards the inn. Stepping inside, he looked around at the patrons. Nothing special. Just rich people looking bored. Then he picked up a bit of conversation from the back room. "My stupid wife is up there again, with that witch." Cold iron ran through James's veins. He rushed to the back room, pushing past several people. A fat man, the voice's owner, stood in a large office. James grabbed the fat man's collar. "The witch," he said, and the man drew back from his wild look and steely gaze, "which room?" "The...third floor, end of the hall. Who are you?" The man frowned, shock wearing away to irritation. "I," James looked up above, as though hoping he could see through the floors above and find his target, "am her death." Anne Jall knew she was dying. She felt no sensation when she touched her face, and her fingers came away thick with dark blood and chipped bone. She couldn't get up, her left eye was blinded, and breathing was difficult. No magic would come to her. That bitch had betrayed her. She'd given her more than she could ever hope to deserve, and in her own arrogance had been as easily destroyed as each of the witches she slaughtered not so long ago. Anne was the last witch alive, and she would soon be dead. The door burst open. Large feet stomped into the room, and froze. She coughed, tried to talk, and spat up blood. The man knelt down beside her. It was James Rawlings, bearded and furious. "Where is she," he demanded. "Gone," her swollen lips were numb, and her words were only half formed. "Where!" he slammed his fist down beside her head. She looked up at him and laughed. It was a wet and gagging sound. "I am already dead, fool. And I deserve it. I am fat, slow. Easy to kill." She laid her head back down, deep welling sorrow filling her soul. "Did she run away from you?" She looked up at him. She thought of Marro with Nina, and jealousy filled her. Jealousy. She laughed again. But she could help him, and she thought that if he would kill Marro for her she was willing to let him have Nina as a reward. "Listen," she coughed. "I have a...gift...for you." She pointed at her own finger, where a simple silver ring rested. James Rawlings looked at it with suspicion. "What is it?" "Witches...protect themselves...from their spells. Protect them in case something goes wrong. So long as she wears this...she will be immune to the spells I placed on her." "Why should I believe you?" He drew back, eyes darting around the room. "A woman named Marro deceived me, and she now owns the woman who was your wife. Marro has killed me, and now I only want to know that she will die as well." He studied her face, and finally nodded. With no hint at gentleness, he pulled the ring from her finger. She coughed, and spat more blood. The world was slowing around her. "What does Marro look like?" he asked. "Blonde. Tall. Skinny. Like a dancer. Ugly, though," she smiled up at him, then clucked. "Your wife is changed." "Changed?" "Small. Small. I have remade her to Marro's desires. A fool. I'm a goddamn fool!" He grabbed her shoulder, hard. "What does she look like?!" "She will appear young...much younger. And short. And listen..." He leaned in. "She is in love with Marro. True, pure love." "Impossible." She smiled again. "Not where witches walk." The smile drifted softly from her face, and he was looking at a corpse. James stood up, and thought. Where was he to go now? How could he hope to find... His eyes widened. Seconds later he was hurtling down the stairs and out the door of the inn. The blonde and the girl in love. He'd been so close. He looked north, towards the edge of town. Too much time had passed. He ran for his horse. He knew, now, exactly what he was looking for. -- "Will your husband miss you?" Marro smiled to herself as she rode. "I suppose so," she said to the girl who walked alongside her horse. "Maybe not as much as he will miss you." The girl frowned, and thought about that a moment. "Will you miss him?" She asked. She sounded worried...jealous? Marro felt very content, excited. She had never been a pretty girl, and had been forced to settle for the first man who came courting. She'd been much older than her sisters had for their marriages. Heather had been 16 for hers, Suzanne a year younger than that. Marro had settled for John at the too-old age of 22. Marro had known, too, that she was something her husband settled for as well. In the thirteen years they had been married, it had always been apparent that he felt the same way every other person who met her had: she was ugly. At least there were no children. They never spoke of that, but it was clear that at least one of them was unable. Marro never wanted children. Not with him. Being coerced into John's play with the slave Nina had been horrifying. Marro had no interest in girls whatsoever. Anne had helped solve that with a little spellwork, as well as greatly intensifying Marro's sexual appetite, for John and for herself. And now Marro had Nina, and Anne was dead. This beautiful young girl thought ugly Nina was the most perfect thing in the world. She would never need to feel gross or unwanted again. Of course, that was only true if they weren't caught. By now her husband must have discovered the witch's body. Marro looked back in the direction of the town, hidden behind hills now. "Let's go this way," she said, turning the horse east. Nina obeyed silently. Marro looked down at her. "There is a town in this direction, and we will be there by nightfall. When we arrive, we'll buy a nice room. And then, little girl, I think I would like for you to lick all the sweat from my beautiful body." Nina looked up, eager and hopeful. "Yes, ma'am!" she positively squealed with delight. Marro winked at her, was pleased to see her blush deeply in response, and then looked ahead. As they rode silently, she fantasized about all the wonderful things life was about to bring. -- James rode yet another horse into the ground. It collapsed just outside the next town, its spirit gone and its body beaten. He'd been such a fool. Riding north, that first hopeful day, he hadn't paid any attention to his surroundings. He'd gotten to the first town the next night, killing his first horse. It was hard to learn that they weren't and had never been there. He'd immediately bought a new horse. Then he'd ridden back south, more slowly and carefully, and found their tracks. Stupid. Should have seen them the first time. The tracks led him to another small town. They'd been there, for a day, and continued east. The problem was that going further east brought you close to three larger communities, and it could take days or weeks to explore even one of those places. He slept as little as possible. He hunted, fretfully, through each town. Finally, after almost a fortnight, he'd gotten a lead. They'd gone north. The blonde lady bragged about buying a place in the old capitol to some bartender. She had a lot of money, he said. More than enough. The capitol was a massive city. A million people, or more. He could spend a year and never find them. He would. He saw it on the horizon, growing slowly. His new horse was dead, and James Rawlings was ending his great journey on foot. -- It wasn't quite as dirty without an audience, but Marro got by. After all, it was still incredible sex. When they'd arrived, she had been tempted to buy a mansion. The gold in the witch's purse was enough to live like a queen for a lifetime. But Marro didn't need riches; she had love. Besides, she didn't want to draw attention to herself. Her small house was enough...and Nina kept it clean and tidy for her. Marro arched her back, like she always did, and put one hand on the back of the chair. Like she always did. The other hand found the small face that was planting loving kisses on her rear, and nudged it towards the crack. Like it always did. As always, it met no resistance. She sighed happily as the girl kneeling behind her eagerly began pleasuring her backside. You couldn't get tired of this, really. It was too perfect for that. Sometimes she did get upset, though. When she saw herself in the mirror, ugly and gross next to Nina's youthful perfection, it made her sad. It reminded her that she was a phony. She had too much time on her hands, and she drank and ate too much. Nina had that effect on her owners, it seemed. The fact that Nina would find her to be the very definition of beauty no matter what had made her lazy, too. She no longer shaved her legs or armpits, or trimmed her pubic thatch. She rarely left the house anyway, so she'd allowed the leg and pubic hair to grow long and thick. She was uglier than ever, yet this gorgeous young creature was diving into her posterior like it was heaven. She moaned against the girl's work, listening to the feasting sounds. Was this really all there was to her life, though? She moaned against the pressure of a tongue. Was this enough? She stepped away, turned, and leaned back against the far wall. She put one foot up on the foot rest, lost in her thoughts. But she knew she didn't need to give the order, anyway. The small girl scooted forward on her knees, and Marro absently hooked one hand around the back of Nina's neck, under her hair. The girl moved in, mouth open and face upturned, and went to work in the valley hidden underneath the thick pubic hair. Both women moaned. Probably there ought to be more to it than this. It was so easy...so free from challenge. Was it possible for that to be such a terrible thing? She looked in the direction of the kitchen window, across the way, at the other houses nearby. Houses inhabited by families. Families who fought and argued and struggled to get by. Maybe. She rocked her hips against the rolling pleasure. She felt Nina's nose in her coarse dark hair. Still, how could she hope to have those things without losing what she had? Marro would never go back to being ugly again. Never go back to being ashamed. Heat built up in her loins, and her hips began more insistent, aggressive movements. Nina's nose was now pushing against her lower stomach. In a way, she missed Anne. Not a lot, but mostly in the way they had shared this. It was an intimacy of sorts, and one that was far more mutual. She grunted as the first small orgasm rippled through her. She pulled Nina away, and realized she was gripping a fistful of the girl's hair so tightly that she had ripped a number of strands out. It must have been painful for her. She let go, waving the strands off of her palm, and looked down at the wet face. How could she find a way to share this, without losing what made it great? She used her fingers to scoop her juices off Nina's face and into her mouth. Nina moaned around the fingers. Sighing, Marro sauntered thoughtfully back over to the chair. She knew Nina was crawling after her, staring lovingly at her disgusting body. She sat back, legs open, and watched the young girl crawling towards her. Nina's chin was dripping with feminine juice, her tongue licking her lips as she reproached that which was the center of her universe. One of Marro's pubic hairs was wedged between her teeth. How can you not want to share this with someone? Nina dipped her head, and Marro hummed at the returned sensation. How, she wondered, could she replace Anne? Of course, the answer was obvious: what Marro needed was an unequal partner. One more lonely and unattractive than she. Someone who would be willing to share in this rather than be alone. Someone she could still control, someone who would never be a threat, but with whom she could share Nina's abuse. And, she knew, Nina would be the easiest way to acquire such a creature. -- Eleven months in this place. It was almost beginning to feel like home. James spent every day the exact same. From his small hotel room near the city's center, he would pick a direction to go hunting in. He kept meticulous track of all of the places he searched, and when he had last been to them, but it wasn't helping. He was getting nowhere. Maybe they weren't even here anymore. He shook his head. He wouldn't believe that. The only place he'd never searched was what locals called the Business District. It was a joke, that name. The Business District was the largest sex district on the continent, a massive string of establishments that catered to every possible desire known to man. The prey James Rawlings sought already had her every desire met, and would have no need of such a place. And she had made it clear, he felt, that she did not want to share her toy. He was sure that there was nothing for him in the Business District. He stepped out into the sunlight, aiming northeast, and began his daily ritual. As he walked, he talked quietly to Nina. Telling her it was okay, that he was coming. Wherever she was. -- Nina walked nervously down the street in the heart of the Business District. The dress she wore she would never have wished to be seen in, save by her One True Love. It showed too much of her breasts, and legs. But Marro had insisted, had given her a mission. Nina found the place she sought. The Firm Hand had a reputation as a place that catered to aggressive, less feminine lesbians. Nina's job was to find one that met with Marro's expectations, and seduce her. She shuttered at the thought. Having her True Love sharing her with some woman was devastating, but she knew it would make her mistress happy. This wouldn't be the first time. Marro had already sent Nina to several of the ordinary lesbian bars over and over, night after night, looking for the right one. Nina was a young, small, beautiful woman in a den of wolves. The women hit on her and tried to seduce her with hungry eyes. But she was looking for something in particular. Sometimes she found nothing. Sometimes she drew hopeful and was left disappointed. Once, Marro had sent her to an S&M lesbian bar, and Nina had met a dominating, tall woman with graying hair and acne scars. She'd thought for sure this would be the one. The woman had led her out to the narrow alley between the bars, and told her she would not be going anywhere with Nina until she proved her talents were worth it. So Nina had nervously knelt, pleasuring her there on cold cement. Gripping the strong legs with her small hands, lapping at this strange, grunting woman. When the tall, ugly dominatrix finished her climax, she had smoothed her billowing brown leather skirts and simply walked away, disappearing into the crowded street. It had been the only time Nina had ever lied to Marro...she couldn't bare the thought of telling such a story. To admit having so thoroughly failed. Six times she'd managed to snare a candidate, get them home, and tentatively tested the relationship waters. Each time, the women's initial excitement at having control over such a perfect young woman gave way to jealousy or discomfort. The longest any had stayed was two weeks. Nina didn't miss any of them, though she had enjoyed not having to make these trips. She drew a deep breath and entered the bar. It was a sad looking place, smoky and dirty. Although it could easily hold a hundred people, just 13 women sat spread throughout, mostly alone. None of them were particularly attractive. Some were tragically unappealing. They all looked up as she entered. Some of these women dreamed of the day a girl like Nina would walk through those doors. For them, the night had gone from being boring and ordinary to being a great competitive hunt. Every other woman in the bar had just become competition. Nina nervously walked up to the bar. The butch, monstrous woman behind it appraised her. "You ain't old enough to drink, is you missy?" It wasn't really a question. Nina was terrified. Only her love of Marro kept her from running. Wonderful, beautiful Marro. She focused her thoughts on what her lover wanted her to do. She shook her head, wide-eyed, and sat down on the nearest stool. The butch bartender leaned forward even further. "You prolly ain't even old enough to wed, I'd say." She looked lewdly at Nina's exposed cleavage. "What are you doin' here?" Nina stared at her, unable to speak. Her mouth opened, but nothing came out. "Leave her alone," a gruff female voice said. "Don't scare her away." A woman sat down next to Nina, and immediately Nina felt she may well be the one. A foot taller than Nina, clearly nearing 40 with a sad dopey look to her, the woman was definitely ugly enough for what mistress wanted. "Thank you," she tried to soothe her nerves and smile. "I'm Nina." "Hello, Nina. I'm Por." The woman smiled, revealing crooked teeth. She had brown eyes and hair, the beginnings of a double chin, and large breasts. "Why are you in a place like this? It doesn't suit you." "I..." she had done this before, but not in such a scary environment. She looked around at the hungry faces on the other women. She panicked. "I'm in love with someone," she blurted out. Por looked disappointed. "Oh," she said. "She wants to share me." Por looked at her for a long moment. "Share you." Nina nodded. "I used to serve two, now there's only one. She thinks it's lonely, with just me. She likes to..." she blushed, humiliated. "I see. A rich bitch?" "I don't know. Our home is small. It's near the market." "So a kinky thing, aren't you? Why here, though? You could do a lot better. Hell, you're maybe the best looking thing I've ever seen." Nina wasn't prepared to lie. "It...it has to be somebody ugly." Por flinched, and looked away. "Do you think that I fit that bill?" "Yes," Nina said honestly. "I'm sorry." Por was silent for a moment. Then she frowned. "Fuck you, little girl," she said quietly. Nina pulled away nervously, but Por grabbed her arm. "Do you know that I have never, ever been in a real a relationship? I've had sex, dull and passionless, a few times. Women who settled for me, for a time. But nobody has ever loved me." She took a drink. "Do you love your mistress?" "I do," Nina tried to twist away from the firm grip, tears in her eyes. "So," Por looked at the smaller woman, "will you love me if she commands it?" "Yes," Nina whispered up at her. Por downed her drink in a gulp. "Then let's go. I can't wait to meet her." She stood up, not loosening her painful grip on Nina's arm. The two of them left the bar. "What do you think?" Por smiled back at Marro. The two of them stood facing each other in the candle lit room, in their undergarments. Nina knelt between them. Marro had been showing Por some of Nina's talents. Nina noticed that Marro had shaved for the occasion. "She knows your body well." "It's beautiful to her," Marro shrugged. "You're no looker," Por responded. Marro smiled. "Does that matter? Is it beauty that is so important, or is it the feeling of beauty?" Por grinned, "I'm in. Something this generous, well..." she looked blankly towards the door for a moment, "I'm a lonely woman, and it's hard to pass up friendship or sex." Marro shrugged. "This is just a trial run, mind you. If you turn out not to be the right fit..." "Then you tell me and I'll make any changes I gotta make to be the right one. I mean that. I'll do what I have to, to make this work." Marro nodded approvingly. Then, she walked over and sank down into the chair at the far end of the room. "Go on then," she waved her hand, "let's see the show." Nina looked up at her unattractive new mistress. Por was not really particularly large...she was just awkwardly built...but she was larger than Marro, and Nina felt so small beside even that woman. Like Marro, Por had a layer of fat around her middle. She walked over to Nina, looking down a moment, and then reached out and shoved the girl onto her back. Squatting, she sat on Nina's stomach. She didn't bother supporting her weight, and the breath was driven from Nina's lungs. Por's knees squeezed at the smaller girl's hips. Leaning forward, she initiated a slobbering, drooled out tongue-filled kiss that made Nina uncomfortably aware that Por's breath smelled of alcohol. One awkward hand groped at Nina's breast, and Por hunched her back more and scooted her knees slightly forwards as she continued the messy kisses. Then she pulled her mouth away and leaned in to Nina's ear. "Might as well do a good job of it, baby." Then she scooted her knees forward until she was sitting on Nina's upper chest. She lifted her underdress and looked down at the girl. "Tell me it's beautiful," she tapped one finger in the place she meant, like Nina didn't know. "It's beautiful," Nina said emotionlessly. "Liar!" Por struck Nina's cheek hard. Nina yelped, half expecting Marro to come to her aid. But her mistress just watched, grinning, as the larger woman inched forward and Nina's head disappeared between her thick thighs. Por dropped her undergarment over what little of Nina's head could be seen poking out below her, and settled herself into a comfortable position. -- Months passed. Nearly three years had come and gone since he'd seen his wife. Desperation at last drove him to the Business District. And, on his second day there, he found someone who knew her. The large woman behind the bar described her as shy, scared, young and almost impossibly beautiful. She'd left with one of the regulars. This was months ago, maybe. Neither woman had returned since. She'd overheard a bit of the conversation, sure, and if he had some money... He did. The girl said she lived in a small house near the market. He felt revitalized. All was not lost. -- Her jaw ached. Her tongue was tender and tired. Her face hurt. Por was hardly as insatiable as she liked to act, but her presence had become a driving force for Marro's own arousal. Just as it had been with Anne, so it was now. The two found great delight in finding new ways to use and abuse her. With Marro it was not an issue...in fact Nina saw it as sensuous, wonderful lovemaking. With Por, the very same acts were grotesque and humiliating. She hated Por. The morning ritual never changed, so today started like any other. She woke before the two women, cleaned herself and prepared breakfast, then bathed them after they ate. Marro bathed quickly. Por liked for Nina to kiss and lick at her neck as she rested in the warm water. Then they all moved to the living room. Marro was the one with the power, and thus she always went first. She was, as ever, predictable. She would stand bottomless, her blouse on to help keep warm, and Nina would adoringly kiss her stomach and thighs. Eventually she would turn around, put her hands to the chair or tall center table, and Nina's kisses would then fall on the backs of her legs and on her buttocks. At last, she would gently guide the small face to her true bottom, and she would talk with Por about the day's agenda as Nina lovingly serviced her tush. Later, she turned around. She made a much greater show of her thick sexual secretions, with Por around. Both women liked to watch as Nina swallowed again and again. Por would sometimes abstain from the morning festivities. But when she took part, she was more insistent than Marro. She would piston her hips against the tightly-held head or, more often, ride atop Nina's face until she screamed her pleasure out. This morning, she had not abstained, so Nina was sore and tired. Nina was alone now, home by herself while the other women shopped, and usually that meant that she would not answer the door. But she was lost in her thoughts, her hatred for Por, and had pulled it open before she realized what she was doing. The man who stood there, bearded and crazed, stared at her. "Nina," he said. Fear ran through her. "Who are you?" She started to close the door. He pushed hard, throwing it open and knocking her down. Before she could get back up, he was grappling with her and grabbing her hand and she felt a ring slide on her finger... -- Probably, Guyen Tahlen would have been glad to see the way that Anne Jall had died. Similarly, Anne Jall would certainly have enjoyed watching the deaths of Marro and Por. It would have pleased her to know that Nina Rawlings cut both women down, and left them twitching in their own blood. Nina, truly Nina now... a normally sized adult woman, a strong fighter and queen of a nation...rested her head on her husband's shoulder. She had the memory of all that had happened to her, thanks to the ring that sat on her finger. She knew what she had suffered, and she know that it would always be a part of her. But she also knew, from the permanent smile that had rested on James's face the last few weeks, that she would not have to deal with it alone. And she would never have to worry about his ability to deal with it. "The last three years," she had admitted to him in one of many bouts of tears, "will follow me for the rest of my life." "So," he had responded quietly, "am I." Love... true love, not forced or faked... was what lay ahead of them now. They rode slowly north, their suffering over. Their future ahead of them... a life's worth of beauty. So long as she never, ever lost that ring. END ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ This story was written as an adult fantasy. The author does not condone the described behavior in real life. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Kristen's collection - Directory 55