Triumph Chapter 9

The crowd roared as the javelin plunged directly into the center of the target.  “Princess-Knight!  Princess-Knight!  Princess-Knight!”  The entire stadium was on its feet cheering for her.  Sir Andrew Torrence, the Master-At-Arms of Orlous, the capital of Thesta, clapped her on the shoulder and congratulated her.

“Well thrown, Your Highness.  52 paces!  That’s the best bullseye since your brother competed in a tourney.”

“Thank you, Sir Andrew.  But you must share some of the credit.  You’re the one who taught me how to throw a javelin, after all.  My brother too.”  Amelie smiled up at the older knight, and then turned to face the crowd.  She brushed a long lock of brown hair behind her ear and then raised her hand to the crowd in triumph.

The people of Thesta loved her.  She was born at the end of a period of tragedy for the Kingdom, and since her birth the realm had enjoyed peace and prosperity.  When she earned her knighthood last year the whole city took up a collection to buy her arms and horse, despite the fact that she could easily afford it on her own; they all wanted to be a part of her triumph.

The title of “Princess-Knight” came about quickly and easily.  All her life she had striven to be the perfect Princess.  She was a master of dance, decorum, and courtly manners.  She knew how to weave and bake, and how to manage a household staff.  Amelie gave alms to the poor, even more than what was normally expected of a Princess.  She knew the names and families of her petitioners the same way she knew the names of the soldiers under her command.

But she also knew how to manage an estate and the realms finances.  She knew how to wage war; both as a general and as a warrior.  As she proved today, she was the finest with a javelin in all Thesta.  She knew how to wield a sword, a mace, and how to ride a warhorse.  Amelie strove to be the best at everything she did. 

It helped that she looked the part of a Princess-Knight.  Her lithe, athletic body fit well into a pretty dress and was strong enough to wield a sword and wear armor.  She was beautiful, with long brown hair and crystal blue eyes.  Her skin was fair, but with good color from hours spent outside in the practice yard.  Though her bust was not nearly as large as say, the Queen of Zentara’s, it was still large enough to give her an hourglass shaped figure.

Amelie exulted in the pleasure of the crowd, but as she turned towards the royal box her heart fell.  Her father wasn’t in attendance and hadn’t seen her triumph.  The smile fell from her face and she quickly departed the stadium before her people noticed.

“Fuck the king if he doesn’t care to see your win.  You don’t need him, Your Highness.”  Katerei said.

Amelie shot the mercenary a cold look.  “Watch your tongue when you speak about the King, Katerei, or you’ll find yourself hunting orcs in the Angrian March.”  The foul-mouthed mercenary had been hired to instruct her in close quarters combat two years past.  Amelie reasoned that there was no one better to teach her how to fight against men than another woman.  She was crass, but she knew how to fight.

“Apologies, Your Highness.  I didn’t mean to offend.”

Yes you did.  “Of course my father wouldn’t be here; I just forgot what day it was.”  It was a shame that the Mayfair tournament fell on this day this year.  “Excuse me, Katerei, but I am going to tell my father the good news.”

She knew exactly where to find the King.  Amelie made her way back to the castle, and then down into the crypts beneath.  King Guillaume was exactly where she knew he’d be; at the tomb of her brother, Francis.  It had been seventeen years to the day since he died in the Great Sweltering Sickness.

Francis had been everything her father could have hoped for in a Prince and heir.  He was smart, strong, and brave, but also kind, wise, and compassionate.  The King had never gotten over the loss of his son. “Good evening father.”  She wrapped an arm around her father and pressed against his side.  “He was a great man.  Everyone was talking today about the great throw he made to win the tournament all those years ago.”

Guillaume didn’t turn to look at her.  “He was a great Prince. Unmatched in skill at arms.  It’s a tragedy that he was taken from us so early.”

“Yes father, it was.”  Francis had been born late in the King’s life.  By the time he passed, the Queen was too old to bear him another child.  Under the advice of his ministers, he divorced her, though he loved her dear, and married Amelie’s mother.  Three years later she was born, somewhat of a disappointment since she wasn’t a boy.  Through simple bad luck, or perhaps a lack of interest, her mother never bore another child and Amelie became his heir.  “I won the javelin toss at the Mayfair Tournament today, father!  I threw a bullseye at 52 paces!”

“Your brother threw one at 56 paces.”  Guillaume turned to look at her.  “But 52 paces is good as well.”  He offered her a weak smile.

“Thank you father.  I threw even better than Sir Andrew!  I told you that my training was complete.  I earned my knighthood, it wasn’t given to me because I’m the Princess.”  She waited a moment.  “Please, I promise you father, I can lead our troops in battle.  Let me take the Falcon Guard to Zentara.  We should support our most important trading partner against Heste.  We cannot let the trade from the Elfish Isles fall into Hesten hands.”

Guillaume sighed with a mixture of resignation and annoyance.  “We’ve been over this, Amelie.  Zentara’s problems are not our own.  Queen Jeanette should not have taken the Duchy of Braden from Heste after the last war.  It destabilized everything.  Of course King Connor was going to take it back!  What else did she expect?”

“Heste has always been the greatest threat to all the realms.  Taking the Duchy of Braden created a buffer between the Zentaran heartland, and our trade routes, while greatly diminishing Heste’s ability to field and maintain an army.   If it weren’t for the rebellion, Connor wouldn’t have a chance to defeat Zentara.”

“But there is a rebellion.  Do you think that it’s a coincidence?  It’s a further example of Queen Jeanette’s reckless policies.  No, no, Amelie, we are not going to get involved in her wars.  I forbid it!”

“It’s not about that at all, is it?  Queen Jeanette, for all what you may think of her policies, has expanded trade with us through her entire reign.  All our people have benefited from our relationship with Zentara.  It’s not about her, is it?  It’s about me!  You don’t trust me to lead our armies.  If Francis were still here you’d let him go without a moment’s hesitation!”  Amelie fought back the tears welling in her eyes.

 “Your brother was the finest knight this Kingdom has ever seen!  Now that’s enough about Zentara.  You’re staying here and that is all there is to it!”

“Yes Father.”  Amelie said stiffly, before departing the tomb.  One day she’d be as good as Francis was. Then her father would trust her, and would no longer have any doubts about her ability to rule Thesta.

“Amelie, wait!”  Her father called out to her. 

Her heart lifted as she turned back, but the twisted, deranged look on her father’s face made her freeze.  She was so surprised that she made no resistance when he grabbed her by the arms and yanked her forward, then spun her around and pushed her against the side of the tomb.

“How many times do you think I am going to put up with this insolence from you?  How many times do you think I’m going to let you fail me?”  Before she could answer he raised his hand, and then slapped it down sharply on her rear.  The loud crack echoed through the crypt, but was quickly followed by another and another.  Each time after he smacked her bottom his hand squeezed her rear, groping the flesh lewdly.

“Ah!  Father!  What are you doing?”  Amelie cried out as her bottom was struck.  Something was wrong though.  It wasn’t hurting like it should: it was feeling good.  Amelie found herself enjoying being spanked and groped by her father!

“You’re not my son!  You’re not Francis!”  Guillaume snarled as he gripped the sides of her pants and yanked them down, then resumed spanking her.  This time his palm collided with her bare ass in a resounding smack that quickly reddened the pale cheeks.

“Nnng!  Ah! Ah!”  Amelie squealed out loud as her father’s hand smacked her naked backside over and over.  “I know father!  I know I’m not him!  I’ll never be him!  I’m not good enough!”

“No, you’re not!  You’re a slut!  A whore!  Aren’t you?”  The king growled and slapped her bottom one last time, then slid his hands between her legs and pushed two fingers right up her wet slit.

“Oooh!  Yesss!”  Why am I agreeing with him?  “Yes I’m a slut!  A whore!  A worthless whore!”  No I’m not!  Amelie moaned louder as she pushed her hips back into her father’s fingers, making them slide deep inside her.

“I should have known you wouldn’t be a virgin!  You deserve this!  Every inch of this!”  Suddenly his cock was deep inside her, and he was thrusting madly inside his daughter.  “This is what you’re good for!  Not fighting, and certainly not ruling.  But fucking!  You’re a whore!”

“Mmm! Ah!  Fuck me father!  Fuck me like a whore!  Fuck me hard and breed a real heir from me!”  Pleasure began to mount inside her, welling up and building to a crescendo before Amelie snapped awake with a cry. 

Her heart pounded wildly in her chest, and despite the depravity of the dream she groaned in frustration at being left unsatisfied.  It had been happening more and more frequently; despite the lewd dreams she wasn’t getting any satisfaction, just more and more aroused.  The dream was an old one, though it had never ended quite like that before.  She ran her hands down over her chest, moaning softly as her fingers brushed over her hard nipples. 

No, no time for that.  Amelie brushed her brown hair back, tied it into a ponytail and swung off her cot.  There is too much work to be done.  She picked up Drauken’s letter again and reread it what must have been the hundredth time searching for some previously missed detail.  The orc’s letter was vague, but some salient points were clear.  The remnants of Agmar’s army would be reinforcing Grotok and Augras, and together they were going to invade Thesta before the start of the campaign season.

It also told her that they would not be bringing their baggage train with them, but foraging and living off the land.  Beyond that though, there were no details.  The whole plan was being kept secret, so she had no idea what their target was or what their exact timetable was going to be.

“Well, clearly they plan on using Augras’ magic to grow crops and feed themselves.”  She said to herself as her hand drifted between her legs and idly stroked her clit.  “That means they’ll want to leave the mountains and head into the farmlands.”  She looked over the map again as she mused, “Orlous is the obvious target, but they’ll have to get past the Sandoran army first.  They’ll also want to draw us out, but not get caught between us.”  Her breath quickened as she pressed her finger harder against her little button and rubbed faster.

“The Duke of Lisene is going to move to attack them quickly.”  She traced a line with her free hand from the Sanrodan army marker to Hell Pass where the orcs would march through.  Then she traced a line from the Pass in the direction of Orlous.  The only landmark of any significance in the vicinity of both paths was the town of Benodetienne.  “That’s where they’ll meet.  Grotok will want to get their food stores and sack the town, Lisene will want to be the hero who stops them.”  If the General could get there first then the orcs would be trapped between them.  We’ll have to move quickly though, and stay right on their tail.

With a sigh she set the letter aside and picked up the one from her.  Amelie suppressed a shiver of pleasure as she read it again.

Mother,

I hope things are going well with the Falcon Guard and you’re staying safe, well, as safe as you can be during war.  I’m sorry I can’t be there with you, but we both know that I wasn’t born to be a warrior.  Still, you’d be proud of the progress we’ve made in Orlous.  The expansion and reinforcement of the walls has been completed and we’ve laid in enough food stores to last two years of siege if it comes to it.  The guard has also been replenished, and we have more than enough soldiers to man the walls and defend the city.  Are you sure you wouldn’t rather have them on the front lines with the army?

The mood in the city remains positive.  So far the war has been far away in Heste and Zentara, and the tales of victory which have come back have only strengthened the faith they have in you.  That is why you need to be safe, Mother.  The people believe in you, and your invincibility.  Were you to fall, our people would fall.  I trust you mother, but you’re not a young woman anymore.  Be careful!  We need you, I need you.

With love and devotion,

Anna

Amelie rapidly blinked her eyes to fight away the mist building in them.  Somehow she doubted that Jeanette got many letters like this from her children.  But she couldn’t afford to be careful.  Everything was on the line now, and this war would determine the fate of the entire Western Kingdoms.  True, fatigue had been hitting harder than when she was younger, but she wasn’t in her dotage yet.  It was lucky the war broke now and not ten years from now! 

Amelie rolled up the letter and was about to put it aside when she noticed the damp stain on it.  I didn’t think I was crying… Then she noticed the wetness on her fingers, and the smell of sex in her tent and realized what she’d been doing.  Ugh, what’s wrong with me?  I was touching myself the whole time?  Without even knowing I was doing it?  These dreams need to stop, one way or another I need to get some sexual release, just to keep my head on straight!

But there would be time for that later.  For now she had to get the camp ready to move at a moment’s notice.  Besides, I haven’t been able to climax on my own any other time this past week, and what other options do I have?

****

Dew glistened on the grass as Augras stepped out of his tent with Marishka.  It was the first time in months that the land wasn’t frosted in the morning.  The air was brisk, but not biting as it had been.  “You’re sure it will be here today?”  Augras asked for what might have been the hundredth time.

“Oh yes, the darkness arrives today.  You did well in your choice.”  Marishka turned south and pointed into the distance.  Here it comes now.”

Augras turned, and in spite of himself almost expected to see darkness creeping over the land.  Marishka’s cryptic pronouncements could have that effect on people.  Instead, he was greeted by the sight of dust clouds kicked up by the approaching column.  “Let’s go find my uncle then, he’ll want to be here for this.”

The pair wandered through the camp, and Augras couldn’t help but notice the tense, nervous expressions of the soldiers.  Weeks of raids by Amelie’s forces had worn them down, and the state of near constant alert had left them frayed.  Coupled with the fact that they were stuck in place as they slowly cleared the wreckage of the castles in the Pass, and the soldiers’ morale was severely crippled.

People were starting to wonder if they would ever take the offensive again, and if the Princess-Knight could be defeated.  Of course she can, and I’ll be the one to do it, Augras assured himself.  He had a plan, and now finally the weather had turned enough to implement it.  As soon as his cousin Bogor arrived, they could finally get underway.

They arrived at Grotok’s command tent and went inside.  The King was already waiting for them, standing alone over a map of the Western Kingdoms.  They had agreed to keep the number of attendees to a minimum to reduce the chances of Amelie discovering their plans.  “Good morning, nephew.  You’re looking chipper this morning: did you spend the night ‘rehearsing’ your spells with Marishka?”

“Don’t be jealous, uncle, it’s not everyone who can make magic happen between the sheets.  If you’d like, I could give you some lessons; then maybe you’ll finally be able to find a Queen.  Well, besides Grandmother of course.”  Augras smiled pleasantly back at Grotok as the older orc scowled.

“How droll.  Someone should have taught you to respect your elders; but with a father like yours I understand why you never picked up the habit.”  Grotok shot back.

“For once we agree, uncle.”  Before he could continue the repartee the flap to the command tent opened and Bogor strode in, his armor still dusty from the road.

“Good morning, Your Highness” Bogor said, bowing respectfully to Grotok, before turning to Augras, “Good morning to you as well, Prince Augras.”

“Welcome to Hell Pass, Bogor,” Grotok said, “it is good to have you here.  With your help we can finally take the war into Thesta!”

“But first, I think you have something for me?”  Augras asked eagerly.

Bogor nodded and pulled a small wooden casket from his pack and handed it to the Prince.  “Here you are, Your Highness.  As requested.”

Augras opened the box and pulled out the jet black ring contained within.  “The Eye of the Abyss!  I’ve never actually seen it, until today.”  Augras looked at Bogor with a mischievous glint in his eye.  “Did you look into it?”

“Yes, more than once, to see what the fuss is about.  It’s just a ring.”

“It is more than that,” Marishka said, “it is as black as the souls who cling to it.”

“Then you don’t care to gaze into it?”  Grotok asked haughtily.

“I do not need to, for I have already seen its darkest depths.  But it will serve.”

“Serve what?”  Grotok asked suspiciously.  “What foul magic do you have planned next?”

“It is time to continue the plan against Amelie, and this stone is the key.  I’ve already begun influencing her dreams; probably why she has not been seen personally in the field as often.  But once the next phase is completed, I’ll be able to begin binding her directly.”

Bogor snorted.  “Is this why I was summoned all the way here?  To win the war with magic tricks?”

“Magic isn’t going to win the war,” Grotok declared, before adding, “though it may help us win it.  You’re here because we need your expertise.”

“We’re going to abandon our wagons and push through the Pass on foot.  My magic will grow us the food we need on the other side.  Other than that we’ll have to forage.  You’ll take my Minotaurs and march to the Catabrian Hills from behind, while we check the Sandoran army.”

Bogor strode towards the map in the center of the tent and gazed at it thoughtfully.  “That will draw the Tribesmen serving with Henry off his army, making it easier for King Belkor.  It will also threaten his base with the northern Hesten lords.  It’s a bold move.”

“Amelie won’t pursue you,” Marishka said before Bogor had a chance to continue, “Augras will see to that.  She will chase after us.”

“How can you be so sure?  If you’re wrong, we’ll be run down and annihilated.”

“Because as much as she might care for the Catabrians, she cares for Thesta more.  Besides, I intend to give her all the motivation she needs to chase after us.  Trust me, she’ll do as we expect.”  Augras said confidently.

“It is the best plan we have” Grotok insisted, “we can’t continue to sit here and bleed.  We need to retake momentum, and the offensive.  Augras, you have the rest of the day to do what spells you need.  Bogor, rest your men and start gathering provisions.  Take as much food as you can carry, because tomorrow we march!”

“One other thing, uncle.  I need one of your soldiers, an orc.  Someone brave and reliable for a mission.”  When Grotok nodded his ascent, Augras and Marishka left the tent and walked over to the blacksmiths.  Augras idly twirled the ring around his finger as he mentally centered himself in preparation of the spell.  The blacksmith was ready for them, waiting with a long sword blank wrought in cold, grey iron.

“I have the sword you requested, Prince Augras, but are you sure you want an iron sword?  It won’t be as strong as steel.”

“Yes it will be, when I’m done with it.  Here, “Augras pulled out the Eye of the Abyss and handed it to the blacksmith, “set this into the hilt, and then start working the iron.”

The smith shrugged and held the iron over the fire while Augras began to reach inside himself to summon the magic.  He pictured Amelie in his mind, or at least what he imagined her to look like.  Though he had never seen her himself, he had heard that she was tall for a woman, fair skinned, with light brown hair.  He saw her as being lithe, and toned from years of riding and martial training. 

In his mind’s eye she was sleeping, and the world began to spin as his point of view zoomed into her forehead and into her dreaming mind.  Power gathered within him, pooling in his center.  At first the images he saw in her mind were random, though each one a depraved tableau.  He saw Amelie being gangbanged by her soldiers, or being raped by orcs, Minotaurs, and centaurs.

Drawing his dagger, Augras held his hand out over the iron blade and cut his palm.  He squeezed his hand into a fist and dribbled blood out onto the sword as it was tempered.  He pushed his power out with his blood, and as he did he envisioned sorting the rampant images from chaos into order.  Instead of random people or scenes, it was Augras fucking her, controlling her, directing her.

In rapid succession, images of Amelie serving him flashed through his mind, faster and faster.  Augras’ blood sizzled on the sides of the blade as his magic dripped into the iron of the sword.  As he channeled his power, Marishka knelt by his side and pulled out his cock.

Disregarding all the onlookers, she took him into her mouth and began to suckle his cock.  With the sexual overtones of Augras’ magic, a more direct reagent was needed to augment his blood.  She began to bob up and down as she sloshed her spittle around his member.  Her lips hugged the contours of his ridged cock as she worked her way halfway down the length before pulling back up again.

A stifled grunt was the only evidence that Augras felt Marishka’s ministration.  He had spent long hours over months and months practicing and building up the discipline to maintain focus when channeling his magic.  Though his cock grew and stiffened in her mouth, he kept projecting his power and imagination into the blade.  As Marishka’s mouth formed a moist pocket around his dick he pulled the pleasure from his groin and pushed it out with his magic, letting it flow into the inky, bottomless depths of the Eye of the Abyss.

The Mincenntti woman was skilled, and her mouth and tongue provided an endless source of pleasure to draw from.  Faster than he could draw it out, she grew it inside him.  She moved faster and faster, feeding more of his cock between her lips.  Her tongue swiped about, rubbing his member all over while she stroked it with her lips.  Her enthusiastic pleasuring of his dick quickly brought him to the edge of climax.

The smith did his best to keep his eyes off the strange scene playing out before him.  He continued to hammer and fold the blade, working the dark grey iron into a dangerous weapon of war.  Still, in the back of his mind he trembled as he saw the prince’s blood splatter onto the blade.  It didn’t sizzle and evaporate, but sunk and stained the iron.  The prospect of blood magic frightened him, but even still he couldn’t help but wonder at the idea of forging a magic blade.

Augras felt his orgasm growing and began to prepare the final surge of power into the sword.  In his mind’s eye he saw himself picking up the blade and holding the tip to Amelie’s forehead.  The blade sank inside the princess knight, but as it pushed inside her head it grew out of her sword arm.  Augras continued to push, feeding the sword and his magic into Amelie until the hilt disappeared inside her and she was left wielding the blade in her hand.

As he saw her lifting it up his power exploded out of him as a mixture of blood and semen shot into the forge.  Marishka furiously stroked his shaft, milking out his seed until the pressure inside him eased and the spell came to an end.  The smith lifted the sword and plunged it into a nearby bucket of water to cool the metal.

When he pulled the blade out again the dark iron almost shimmered malevolently.  The sides of the blade were stained indelibly with his blood.  The edges were splattered with it, and looked as if it had been freshly pulled from a corpse instead of a bucket of water.  The cum had stained the blade as well, though they had pooled into white stars that ran up and down the length of the sword.

“It’s perfect!”  Augras beamed in satisfaction at the sight of it as he took it from the smith.  It was the first magic blade he made, that had been made in possibly a millennia.  It was just a shame it wasn’t meant for him.

“Prince Augras, the King ordered me to report for a mission.”  A grizzled veteran orc approached him now that the ritual was complete.

“Good!  It will be a dangerous one.  It will test not just your skill in battle, but your poise and discipline as well.  Are you up to it?”

“Always, Your Highness.  Just tell me what needs doing.”  The orc replied.

“Here,”  Augras slid the sword into a simple leather sheathe and handed it to him, “you are to take this sword and take it to the other side of the Pass.”

The orc looked confused.  “The other side?  Where?”

“There is a cave that belonged to my people,” Marishka explained, “when they first came to this land.  When you get to the other side, turn towards the rising sun and walk until it reaches its zenith.  Then look for the lifeless fallen tree on the side of the mountain.  Behind it is the cave.”

“Are you sure?  How do you know it’s there?”

“I have seen it.”  She replied, simply.

“It will be there, but finding the cave is the easy part.  Here’s what you have to do next…”

****

“Get these tents packed up!  I want everyone ready to move in an hour!  The orcs think they’ve slipped past us and I want to let them know they can’t escape!”  Amelie bellowed at her men as they bustled about the camp, tearing it down and packing it

up to move out.

Her sentries had reported that the orc army was preparing to leave, and she wanted to be right on their tail when they did.  The war would be entering Thestan soil for the first time, and she wanted to make sure they paid a toll in blood for entering her domain.  Amelie was thankful for the work, as it was a distraction from the fire burning between her legs.  She still hadn’t managed to find any respite from the lust blazing within her.

“Your Highness!”  One of her scouts ran up breathless.  “The orc column split shortly after exiting the Pass.  The minotaurs and the green orcs are hugging the mountains to the east while the main body is moving towards Orlous!”

Amelie blinked as she absorbed the report.  Why are they splitting their forces?  Especially the minotaurs?  I wouldn’t think Augras would want to lose any of his personal troop, especially not his heavy infantry.  “Good work!  Get something to eat and drink, then report back to your commander.”

After the soldier left, Amelie pulled her map out of her pack and examined it.  As she traced the projected path of the orcs’ secondary force she couldn’t find any immediate targets.  But as she followed the mountain range she quickly determined their purpose.  They’re going to attack the Catabrian Hills from behind.  That’s why they have the green orcs; they are the ones with the most experience.  I’m not sure why the minotaurs are going.  Either Augras wants his personal stamp on the attack or he thinks they’ll be suited to the mountainous warfare.  They’ve certainly gotten enough experience fighting us in the hills surrounding the Pass.

The splitting of the orcs’ forces presented her with something of a dilemma.  She didn’t have the resources to go after both armies.  True, Lisene could move to intercept the main force, allowing her to pursue the splinter.  Unfortunately, she didn’t trust him to defeat Grotok and Augras.  Besides, the defense of Thesta itself would best be served in the hands of a Thestan, even more so its Queen.

Unfortunately, that left the green orcs and the minotaurs free to ravage the Catabrian Tribes.  They had already suffered enormously during Agmar’s invasion, and now most of their surviving warriors were off in Heste fighting, leaving the Tribes defenseless.  Amelie briefly thought about Rosalind, but then pushed the tribeswoman from her mind.  They all would have given birth by now, and she didn’t want to think about the fate of all those half-orc babies.

They’ll have to manage, she thought.  The Catabrians are going to desert Henry when they find out.  Hopefully he’s inflicted enough losses on Belkor to make up the difference.

“Your Highness!”  Another scout came running up to her.  “We’ve got a prisoner!  Caught a damn orc skulking about near our lines!”  

“Good work!  Let us see what he has to say; have him brought to the quarters we built for the farmers.”  They had built a small longhouse for the farmers they took prisoner before resettling them in Thesta.  It would serve as a perfect place to interrogate the prisoner.

After overseeing the packing of the last of her own stuff, she designated one of her sergeants to take over for the rest of the gear as she made her way to the longhouse.  Two guards were already waiting for her outside.

“Good afternoon, Your Highness.  The prisoner is inside with Wilkens and Jennings.  He didn’t have any papers with him, but he was carrying this.”  The guard lifted up a sword and held it out to her.

The sword itself wasn’t unusual, except for the deep black stone set in the hilt, at least until she pulled it from its hilt. The sword was made of iron rather than steel, and the metal had been marked during its forging, giving it the appearance of being splattered with blood.  The white star patterns were interesting as well; it wasn’t done by a technique she recognized.

“A strange weapon for a foot soldier to be armed with.”

“He wasn’t armed with it, Your Highness.  He was armed with a spear, and just seemed to be carrying the sword.”  The guard responded.

“Strange, but we’ll soon get to the bottom of it.”  She stepped inside the longhouse and approached the orc, who had been tied to a chair in the center of the room.  Her step nearly faltered as she noticed the orc’s bulging chest and prominent square jaw capped with tusks protruding upward.  A shiver of excitement at his raw masculinity shot down her spine which she quickly suppressed.

“He hasn’t said anything yet, Your Highness, but we’ve not started asking properly either.”  Wilkens said, shooting the orc a nasty glare.”

“Hopefully it won’t come to that, so let’s start with something simple.  I’m sure you know, or can guess, who I am, orc.  But why don’t you tell me your name at least?” 

The orc looked up at her with an impudent, inappropriately confident, gaze.  “Jarrik.”

“Well Jarrik, that is a good start.  Now, what were you doing in the hills?”  When the orc didn’t say anything, she continued, “What were you doing so far from the rest of the army?  Somehow I doubt you were the only grey skinned orc attached to that splinter force.  What was your mission?”

When the orc still didn’t respond, she sighed and turned towards Wilkens, “Start heating up a poker in the fire.  We’ll have to be quick about it, as we don’t have a lot of time.”

“Wait!”  Jarrik interjected, “There’s no need for that, I’ll talk, but only to you.”

“You don’t get to set the terms here, Jarrik.”  Amelie shot back.

“You’ll want to hear this alone, Your Highness.  Trust me!”  He grinned up at her, sending another shiver down her spine.

Amelie considered the orcs words.  What could he have to say that I’d want to hear alone?  She wasn’t worried about him posing a threat to her, especially not being tied up.  And although she wouldn’t admit it, part of her wanted to be alone with the orc.  “Very well.  Wilkens, Jennings, wait outside.”  She raised a hand to forestall their protest, “That’s an order. I think you both know I can handle a single orc.  But do get that poker ready, in case Jarrik is just pulling our chain.”

When the two guards had left, she turned back towards Jarrik.  “Well?”

“I was sent to find that sword you’re holding there.”  Jarrik nodded towards the sword.

“What do you mean, find it?  What’s so special about it?”

“It’s a Mincenntti sword, forged long ago.  Long, long ago.  The Mincenntti witch knew it would be here, and Prince Augras told me to find it and bring it to him.”

A Mincenntti sword?  What trickery is this?  “That seems farfetched. How would she know where it was, and what’s so special about it?”

“She saw where it was in a vision.  Described the cave perfectly, up on the side of the mountain by an old tree.  Even knew what kind of pictures were drawn on the walls.”  Jarrik shrugged as best he could while bound to the chair.  “As for what’s so special about it, well, answering that is going to cost you.”

She didn’t like the look on his face as he said that last part.  “You’re not in a position to dictate terms here, Jarrik, as I already told you.”

“Aye, you could torture me, Your Highness.  But that will take a while, and even then you won’t know if what I’m telling you is the truth or just what I’ve spouted off to make the pain stop.  Don’t you want to at least hear what I’m asking for before dismissing it out of hand?”

Amelie didn’t trust him one bit, mostly because he was making perfect sense.  The smug look on his face told her he still had some trick to pull, even if she couldn’t see it yet.  She found she wanted to though, she was intrigued to find out what it was that gave his orc prisoner such confidence.  “Very well, then, let’s hear it.”

“I want to see your tits.”  He crudely remarked.  Before she could protest, he continued, “Oh don’t get upset, Your Highness.  It’s not that big a deal, is it?  Such a small thing, but the information I have could save lives, maybe even win the war.”  His grin grew wider as he leered at her chest.  “All you have to do is take your tunic off.  “That’s not asking too much, is it?”

Red, hot rage burned through her at the orc’s impertinent request.  Even still, her nipples hardened in response, as the orc’s sexually aggressive manner tapped into the lust she’d been trying to suppress all day.  She opened her mouth to protest, but before she could say anything the orc interrupted her.

“Oh come on, are you going to let a little modesty stand in the way of saving your men’s lives?  Of potentially saving your Kingdom?”  Jarrik laughed gutturally.  “You’re out here, a lone woman surrounded by men, men you’ve fought and bled with and you’re worried about a little modesty?  I’m sure they’ve seen ‘em before, so why not me if it will get you information that might prove decisive?”

Some traitorous part of the back of her mind whispered to her that his argument made sense.  It really wasn’t that big a deal, was it?  Besides, it cooed treacherously, he might be the answer to your problem.  What better way to sat your desires than with a prisoner?  He isn’t one of your men; you’ll never have to look him in the eye.  No one will ever know, and you’ll be able to focus on the war.  Now that things were moving, that is more important than ever!

Her surrender began like a crack in a dam.  First a little stream pushed through, then a flow, and finally a torrent as she gave in to the wicked impulse eating away at her.  Amelie’s heart echoed the staccato beat of a galloping horse as she reached down and wrapped her fingers around the hem of her shirt and lifted.  She peeled the light, airy shirt up her body and over her head and then threw it to the floor.

Her breasts hung freely, and arousal burned through her as she felt the orcs leering gaze devouring the orbs.  Despite her excitement though was also a tinge of trepidation and embarrassment.  Amelie was no longer a young woman, and her breasts had begun to sag.  “Well?”  She asked, stroking the underside and lifting them up so they would look perkier.

“Very nice,” Jarrik replied, “for an older woman.  Quite smooth, good shape, decent size.  Not udders like my Queen.”  The orc laughed.

Amelie scowled at him and released her breasts.  “I meant for you to tell me more about your mission, not my bosom!”

“Hah!  Well, I don’t know too much about it, other than that it’s a magic sword.  The young Prince is smart, brave, and strong sure, but he’s still young.  He doesn’t have his uncle’s experience or skill, at least not yet, so he wants the sword as a cheat.  It’s supposed to make him stronger and faster, at least, that’s what the witch woman said.”

She wanted to strike him for telling such an absurd story, but unfortunately she couldn’t rule it out.  Amelie had seen proof enough of his magic powers.  By the Abyss, that same magic destroyed the fortresses she built, and killed the Crown Prince of Sandora!

The blade slid forth from the hilt as she drew it halfway.  She had to admit, it had a magical look to it, and seemed a deadly enough weapon.  As her thumb idly stroked one of the stars a shiver ran through her, making her remember that she was still topless.  She would have to investigate the sword later.

“A magic sword?  Is that it?”  Amelie found herself walking closer to the orc, drawn towards his masculine presence.  Having her breasts swing so freely made her think of the lurid dreams she’d been experiencing.  It was almost like a flashback as she found herself reveling in the experience of being publically exposed.  Her pussy began to moisten as she drew closer and looked down at the tusk faced orc.

“Isn’t that enough? With that sword you’ll truly be invincible on the battlefield.  Even the damn Minotaurs will be like children before you.”  Jarrik’s mouth hung open as Amelie’s tits hung tantalizingly close to his face.

He’s right, she thought, with a sword like that I would be unstoppable…as long as I can clear my head.  Amelie took a deep breath and then thrust her chest out, pushing her chest against the orc’s face.  The beast’s tusks scraped at her skin as the orc licked and nuzzled her cleavage.  Am I really going to do this with an orc?  Once, the very notion of it would have disgusted her.  But after being bombarded with lurid dreams for weeks her standards had changed.  Jarrik didn’t seem so bad, not compared to a giant squid, or being gangbanged by her army, or worse, ravished by her father.  “Ooooh!”  She sighed softly as her nipple brushed over his tusk, and then got caught between his lips.

It’s been so long, and it feels so good!  She assured herself that it would be for the best, that once she got some relief she could put this behind her and focus on defeating the orcs.  But first, she had to get past her pent up lust!

Her hands dropped to the Orc’s lap and gripped his inner thighs.  Jarrik’s shaft bulged against her palm, its thick girth throbbing as it yearned to escape from its prison.  Amelie gave it a squeeze, and rubbed it firmly as she continued to rub her breasts in the orc’s face.  “Mmm…”

“I bet this is your first time feeling orc meat, isn’t it Your Highness?  There’s nothing quite like it, is there?  Bigger than anything your human men have.  Take it out, touch it for real.  Go ahead, see for yourself!”  Jarrik urged her on as he tried to hump against her hands.  His biceps strained against the ropes as he tried to take a hold of her, but the knots held and he remained tied to the chair.

“Try not to talk” she said, trying to picture someone, anyone besides the orc warrior in front of her.  Still, the gruff words made her pussy tingle.  Her free hand unlaced her pants and slid inside, tracing her wet slit as she continued to stroke him through his pants with the other.

“Don’t be like that, Highness.  There’s no reason we can’t both get something out of this.  It’s just a little harmless fun!”  Jarrik nipped playfully at her breast, giving it a little bite, but hard enough to leave a mark.  He laughed when she squealed, and bucked his hips higher off the chair.

Amelie’s tongue ran over her lips as she looked down at the red mark he left on her creamy breast.  A moan escaped her as she rolled her fingers over her clit and then dipped them inside her wet snatch. After luxuriating in the feeling of her digits pushing through her folds for a just a moment, she slid them out and then slapped Jarrik sharply across the face.  “I’ll take my pleasure from you, Jarrik, and if you get some enjoyment out of it, that’s your affair.”

Her fingers ran up his leg to undo the orc’s pants, and quickly freed his twisted and ridged member.  “Ugh!”  She grunted at the inhuman sight.  Amelie wrapped her fingers around the thick girth and began to stroke up and down as she pushed her own pants down to her ankles.

“Got a little fight in you, eh?  I guess that’s to be expected from the great Princess-Knight.  You handle a dick well enough, but let’s see how you take it in your mouth!”  Jarrik grunted again as he strained against the ropes.  Amelie’s pumping fist was driving him wild and every instinct drove him to want to reach out and grab her and force her on his dick. 

“I told you to be quiet!”  She didn’t like hearing Jarrik call her ‘Princess-Knight’; it was a reminder that she didn’t need right now.  Her mouth watered at the sight of his cock though, and she found herself sinking to the floor and guiding his rod to her mouth.

“Mmm…” She moaned sweetly around his dick as her lips closed around the shaft.  She continued to pump his shaft in her hand, but mostly focused on lapping the cork-screwed ridges and stroking his meat with her lips.  She bobbed up and down along the length, taking it in and out as she fed more and more of it into her mouth.

“Oh that’s good, Highness.  Just like that; I knew you’d be good at this.  Hah!  You’re good at everything you do I bet!”  Jarrik groaned in satisfaction as Amelie formed a tight seal around his cock.  With something he could finally press against, he started to hump in earnest.  He bucked his hips into her mouth, trying to push more of his cock inside her.

The slanted tip of his shaft hit the back of her throat, making her cough and choke.  She slid the cock out and squeezed it firmly as she glared up at him.  She quickly tore her pants off and straddled his lap, facing away from him. She rubbed her firm ass against his cock, then worked it beneath her and to the front to line it up with the entrance to her sex.  “I told you,” she groaned as the head pushed past her folds and entered her body, “to be quiet!  I don’t want to look at you, or hear you.  Just be quiet!”

Amelie moaned loudly again as she tried to picture her husband, or one of her lovers.  She couldn’t do it though: Jarrik’s cock was too inhuman.  There was no way she could escape the size or strangeness of his shaft.  Each time it slid into her his visage entered her mind unbidden.  She imagined him behind her, tied up, his his eyes fixated on her bare ass she rode his prick up and down.

Her breasts bounced, wilder and wilder as she rode him.  Each time she plunged down on the shaft the ridges rubbed her insides and sent shockwaves of pleasure out through her body.  “Ahh! Yesss! Mmm!  Ah!”

“Oh fuck that’s good, Highness!  Ride me!  Ride my cock!  Take it inside that tight royal cunt!”  Jarrik groaned as her pussy squeezed his shaft, gripping it so tight that he was already on the verge of cumming.  He began to thrust wildly, bouncing off the chair in reckless abandon as he strove to stuff her full of his cock.

“AH!”  Amelie arched her back as one hand furiously stroked her clit.  She clenched down on his cock, holding it tightly deep within her body as she brought herself to climax.  Spasms rocked her body as the waves of pleasure coursed through her.  Amelie’s wild undulations milked Jarrik’s cock until moments later he joined her in ecstasy and his cock erupted, splattering her pussy with his hot seed.  “Nnng! Ah ah ah!”  She continued to cry out and moan as his twitching shaft emptied inside her, until finally she came down from her orgasmic high.

As her pent up lust was released and ebbed from her it was replaced with a deep shame.  What have I done?  I just fucked a prisoner.  An orc?  What is wrong with me? She tore herself from his lap and stumbled away.  She saw the sword on the floor and picked it up. For what?  A magic sword? I was so stupid and wanton I let an orc talk me into sex for a magic sword?  Cum dribbled down her thighs, making her want to retch.

“Ah, not bad Highness, not bad.  You looked like you needed that, and I did too truth be told.  Want to go again?  I think I got another round in me!”

Rage built up again within her; at the orc, the war, at herself for being so stupid.  Jarrik’s words echoed in her mind as tears welled in her eyes and the sword slid from its sheathe. It was light in her hand, and as it slipped free she felt an energy flow through her.  Her rage seemed to condense in a ball, and in a flash she spun around.  Without looking the blade swung unerringly into Jarrik’s neck, sinking in like a knife through butter and severing the orc’s head.

Jarrik’s head, its face caught mid-gloat, flew through the air, before striking the floor and rolling away.  Amelie looked at it, and then at the headless body, stunned.  She had trained and fought with swords for years, but never had she swung with such power and speed before.  Maybe it is magical after all, she thought as she stared at the bloody blade in wonder.