The bright sun bathed Augras in a delightful warmth as he rode down the beaten dirt path. The dawn of spring was finally shaking off winter’s chill, making the campaign bearable for the first time for the Prince. The steady, almost melodic thrum of the marching army surrounded him, and only one thing prevented his mind from wandering off into a pleasant daze.
“Even if I accept that we’re your distant ancestor, I still don’t see why that means we can’t train more wizards like my nephew.” Grotok rumbling voice held a not so disguised annoyance. While pleased with Augras’ abilities, the King would prefer to have a cadre of them under his own command instead of having to rely on his brother’s willful son.
“It isn’t your sight failing you, Your Highness, it is your mind which refuses to accept the answer given.” Marishka replied.
“Long ago, ancient Mincenntti left the southern continent to embrace a life without magic. They believed, rightly as it turned out, that magic was causing their civilization to stagnate. They settled all through the world, and over time adapted to their new homes. Those in the plains became orcs, those in the more fertile grasslands humans, and in the mountainous jungle islands off the coast became elfs.” Augras explained.
“Yes yes, so you’ve said. So if we’re of the same blood why can’t we all use their magic?”
“The same blood perhaps, but different hearts. Your blood is thin, weak. Only unifying the bloodlines will produce the strength for our spells.” Marishka laughed as she saw Grotok bristle. “You do not like that, do you? You see Augras’ blood as weak because it is not pure. Some of my kind believed the same of yours. It is of no matter, as the truth will tell. His magic works.”
“Orc, human, and elf blood all mixed together. The union of all three races, I am.” Augras smiled smugly to annoy his uncle.
“Your magic has proven useful in this war,” Grotok admitted, “but what about after? What’s to stop us stagnating the way the Mincenntti did?”
Augras didn’t have a good answer to that, but Marishka did. “All my people had power in our blood. Do yours? No. You will not allow your blood to mix so freely.” The Mincenntti woman barked a soft laugh. “Do you want to see this magic in the hands of your rivals? You will control how the blood mixes, and in doing so keep it strong.”
He saw something queer in her smile, but quickly pushed it from his mind. Marishka always looked as if she was enjoying a private joke. “That is next year’s problem, I’m more concerned with winning the war now. We’ll soon be upon the Sandoran army and we don’t yet have a plan to deal with them.”
“Unless you have some spell to vanish their army it will take longer than a year to end this war. Even if we take Orlous there is still Megdis, and the enemy army in Heste.” Grotok grumbled.
“We’ll only take Orlous when Amelie is in our power, and once she falls Thesta goes with her. Without Thesta, Sandora won’t be able to stand against us. As to the Sandorans…” Augras shared a look with Marishka, “…I know just what to do.”
“And sooner than you might think.” The Mincenntti woman extended her slender, bony arm towards the horizon.
Augras and Grotok turned, their heads whipping around as if expecting to see the Sandoran army descending upon them. After a moment, when no army appeared Grotok’s belly rumbled with laughter. “You had me there for a moment, woman.”
“It is not yet your time, King, but look again, and perhaps some of the scales blinding you will fall.”
Grotok’s laughter choked in his throat as a rider appeared in the distance. “Who is that?”
“An orc” Augras observed. “A sentry no doubt, coming to report on the movements of the enemy.” He smiled in satisfaction, even as his heart began to race faster. He knew what he was going to have to do. Magic comes with a price, and this spell is no different. It’s not like I haven’t killed before…he had of course, though not like this.
“Your Highness!” The rider panted, out of breath. “The Sandorans! Camped one day ahead, holding the road.”
“How many?” Grotok asked.
“Many thousands, Your Highness.”
“More than us…” Marishka started.
“…But not for long.” Augras finished for her.
“I hope you’re right, nephew. Amelie is coming up hard behind us, and I do not want to get trapped between the two armies. The Princess-Knight has already annihilated our rear guard. I don’t want to see what will happen if she gets behind us while we’re fighting the Sandorans.”
“Amelie will not arrive until this enemy is dealt with.” Marishka confirmed. “My lord’s victory is destiny.”
“Even still, I think we should take precautions. Augras, have your Centaurs deploy behind us as a screening force. Harry and delay Amelie as long as possible to give us time to deal with the Thestans.
“Of course, Your Highness. At once.” So he means to use more of my troops as fodder, does he? Well, his time, or rather, my time will come soon enough.
****
“I knew you’d ask us in again!” Pierre groaned before kissing Amelie deeply while his hands slipped beneath her tunic to fondle her breasts. His rough fingers clamped around her nipples and squeezed, making her whimper into his mouth. “Every time you try to fight the ‘curse’ your body gives in.”
Behind her, Jean was unlacing her pants and grinding his hard shaft into her backside. When she saw that Francois wasn’t on guard duty she didn’t give Pierre the signal that he needed her. Amelie hadn’t wanted to sleep with someone new, to let another one of her soldiers see what had become of her.
But after the latest dream she lost control again. As Jean pulled her pants down to expose her tight ass the soldier pulled her hands back and held them together at the wrist. An unfamiliar twinge of panic flashed through her, and for a moment she felt as powerless as she had in the dream when all her attacks against Augras had failed.
“I should have known this is what you wanted, Your Highness,” Jean murmured in her ear as he rubbed his hard cock up and down the crack of her ass, “I just wish I had learned it sooner. I could have been giving this to you years ago!” His tongue flicked out and ran along her ear, leaving a wet trail then sent a shudder down Amelie’s spine, but not as much as the laughter in his voice did. “How come it took so long to bring me back to your tent for a proper shagging?”
It depressed her to know just how quickly she could fall from invincible commander to sex object in their eyes. Not just their present estimation of her either, but her past too. Her very history was being rewritten before her eyes as that of a lewd, sex-crazed woman. Is that what they’re going to think of me? That all these years living among them was just a way to be surrounded my men?
Any reply she might have made, any protestation that it was the magic was drowned by Pierre’s kisses and her own whimpering squeals as he slapped and pinched her breasts. Next Pierre’s hand traveled down her body to slide between her legs, rubbing the Queen’s drenched pussy.
Amelie moaned in desire, even as her mind wandered back to her dream. She had faced Augras in combat, but every time she raised her weapon to strike she froze, and her body refused to move. Soon after she was pinned beneath him, bucking like a mare as she impaled herself on his cock. Yet no matter how hard she thrust or how fast she grinded into the half-orc she couldn’t find release.
Now she was desperate for it, and finding it difficult. Even though Amelie eagerly humped into Pierre’s hand and rode his fingers the tactile sensation was just not as rich as it had been. She still felt empty, and needed something more to give her the pleasure she sought.
Turning her head to break the kiss, she panted out, “Put it in me.” Amelie moaned with frustration and humiliation at the admission, and perversely those feelings made her clit throb more than Pierre’s fingers did.
“If you insist!” Jean snickered and spit on Amelie’s ass. The soldier rubbed the spittle into her puckered rear, and just as she started to protest that she was talking to Pierre he pushed the tip of his shaft into her backside. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it Your Highness?” With a guttural grunt, Jean pushed it deeper inside before starting to thrust it in and out of her ass in short, shallow strokes.
“Aaaah!” Amelie cried out as the cock pushed inside her, spreading her inner walls apart. Her body tensed in spite of itself as it sawed in and out, tunneling through the tight cavity. Before she even had a chance to adapt to the presence of the shaft inside her, Pierre lined his cock up with her slit and pushed into the hot velvety fold. Amelie groaned again as both cocks filled her insides, stretching her past where she thought she could be.
“O-oh Amelie!” Pierre grunted as he felt his Queen constrict her vaginal muscles around his cock. The tightness of her body, amplified by the girth of Jean’s dick in her backside squeezed his shaft firmly. The tight sleeve milked his cock as he pushed it in and out, and threatened to draw out his seed before he was ready.
“Oh fuck this is good!” Jean groaned as he started to move his hips faster, thrusting in and out of it as he pinched and groped Amelie’s rear. When he realized that the Queen would clamp her muscles each time he did, Jean started to pinch it more often, and faster, until her backside was littered with red welts.
“Ah! S-stop! Not like that!” Amelie protested, fuming inside at the liberties that Jean was taking. She couldn’t deny the effect it was having though. The rough treatment was turning her on, in a way it never had before. She was never interested in this sort of play with her husband, when he had been alive. It’s Augras, she thought, it’s what he’s done to me. Thinking of Augras sent another thrill through her. Both that he had wrought this change in her, but also in imagining that it was him doing this to her instead of her own soldiers.
“Don’t be like that Your Highness” Jean snickered as he rolled his hips into her, grinding his cock around in a circle inside her to further stretch her walls, “we’re all just having a bit of fun.” He chuckled louder, emphasizing his point with a loud, sharp smack to her pert ass.
“Yeah, you wouldn’t coming back if you weren’t getting something out of it.” Pierre added, breath labored as he struggled to hold back his climax.
The worst part was that tonight she wasn’t getting anything out of it. For all the extra little thrills her depraved thoughts gave her, it just wasn’t enough to push her over the edge. Something was missing and she didn’t know what it was…or perhaps, she did. Deep inside she knew it was Augras that she wanted, or rather, that her body wanted. It’s the spell, she assured herself, it makes my body crave him, need him!
“Aaagh!” She cried out in frustration as her climax eluded her, despite her furiously grinding into the cocks impaled in her ass and pussy. Already her strategic mind was working on the problem. She couldn’t have Augras, and if she were able to capture him she could force him to remove the spell, rather than slake her lust. Perhaps it’s not just Augras who will do…
“Ah, ah, that’s it, that’s it my Queen!” Pierre cried out loudly and slammed his cock all the way to her cervix before shooting his load, basting her pussy in his hot goo. “Nng!” He continued to grunt and pant, slamming his hips forward in rapid succession to fully milk his shaft as he drove through his climax.
When he was spent, Pierre fell back onto the floor of the tent to catch his breath. Jean tightened his grip on her wrists and bent her further forward, forcing her head down to Pierre’s crotch. “Clean him up Your Highness! You owe it to him after he kindly volunteered to help with your problem!” Jean laughed and pushed Amelie’s face into Pierre’s slick dick.
Amelie started to lick the mixture of her juices and his cum off of Pierre’s cock with resignation. She knew she wasn’t going to get what she needed from them, and the sooner she finished up the sooner they would be gone. She started to flex her ass, tightening and releasing anal ring in rhythm with Jean’s thrusts to bring him to climax even faster, all the while shaking her hips and rubbing her ass cheeks into the base of his cock.
She wrapped her lips around Pierre’s dick, and sucked so hard that it made the soldier shudder as she slurped his shaft clean. As she fucked her ass on Jean’s cock, the soldier slapped it furiously, until finally he cried out and shot his load deep into her bowels. Once his climax was finished and he came down from the high he released Amelie’s hands and stepped back to fix his pants.
Amelie stood straight as their cum leaked from both her holes, then reached to her breasts to wipe off the beaded sweat. Her tent smelled like sex, and their loud cries probably alerted half the camp. That was a problem for later, however. “Thank you for your assistance.” She stated simply, trying to ignore the undue liberties they took with her. “I trust in your discretion, please don’t give me reason to lose faith in you.” They’ll have to be first in line in the next battle, she thought grimly.
Grabbing a sheet of paper and her quill, she quickly scribbled out an order to capture prisoners. “Take this to the chief of scouts immediately, we do still have a war to conduct.”
“Yes, Your Highness.” Jean gave her a smug smirk as he took the paper and left.
No matter, his time will come. And so will mine, once I have my hands on another orc prisoner.
****
The biting wind screamed through the entrance to the old mine, wailing like the cries of the spirits of those interred within. Maybe it is, Rosalind thought, most of the Tribe thinks so. No one else liked to come here, not anymore. Too many of their people had been thrown into the ‘Mouth of the Abyss’ when that monster Agmar ruled the hills, and many more orcs joined them when they were liberated. Along with all the babes they tried to spawn on us.
The child Agmar put in her was down there as well, rotting in the mountain of corpses. Rosalind spit into the cavernous depth of the pit mine, and then turned and began walking up the hill. No sense spending any more time here, I’ll be joining them forever soon enough. Her slender fingers tightened around the shaft of her spear and her other hand clutched her side as she pressed the butt of the spear into the ground. Even months after giving birth her body hadn’t fully recovered, and now she was being thrust into conflict again.
The eastern watchfires began burning a fortnight ago, but it took a week to learn what that meant. Never before had an enemy come at them from the east. When the first messengers arrived spreading tales of the return of the green orcs alongside monstrous bull men they were met with incredulity. How could the orcs have gotten past the Thestans? And bull men, or Minotaurs, were the stuff of tall tales told by the traders who occasionally passed through their village.
Then giant flames joined those of the watchfires in illuminating the night sky. Bonfires that large could only come from villages being torched. With all the Catabrian men of fighting age off with Black Pete and the northern Hesten Lords (who could have ever imagined that they would be allied with Hestens?) Rosalind only had old men and young boys to defend the Hills, and even then not enough to stand against the enemy. Instead, they had been fortifying as best they could while drawing in their strength to withstand a siege.
“I refuse to believe that the Princess Knight has been defeated. The orcs may have out maneuvered her, but she will be on their tail, I’m sure of it.” Rosalind had told her niece. She believed it too, she didn’t have any other choice.
Despite the damage done during the battle, much of the wood from Agmar’s fort was salvageable and had been reclaimed after the orcs and the Thestan army had moved on from the Hills. It had been intended to rebuild villages, fence in grazing areas, and create wagons to haul supplies from Thesta. Now destiny was making its claim, and the wood was set to its original purpose of war.
Day by day more refugees and streamed in from the east, affirming the tales of the monstrous bull men. The Minotaurs were as bad as the orcs if the stories were true. Rosalind had decided not to give them succor, but to send them on to the west. She would make her stand here to buy the rest time to evacuate into Heste where the allied army could protect them.
Now the enemy would be here by nightfall. The enemy always attacked at night, and led by the Minotuars. That much was clear from the survivors. Rosalind’s heart began to beat faster as she considered it. In only a few short hours she would see for herself if the stories were true. As Rosalind reached the entrance to the new fort she looked back to the Mouth and a shiver went down her spine. She did not intend to be captured again, no matter what. She couldn’t go through it all again.
Rosalind stalked through the camp to retrieve her bow and arrows, wading through the silence that permeated the fort. How different it was than the first time she had marched for war. Then she had been flush with excitement and sure of eventual victory. But now she knew that defeat was certain. She had resigned herself to die, but to buy her people as much time as possible to spare them the horror that she had suffered under the orcs.
As day faded into night she took her place atop the battlement. Soon, she hoped, her scouts would report back with the enemy’s movement. Her own people knew the land, as well as hidden ways through it, but they lacked the apparent night vision of her monstrous foe. Rosalind was gambling that their knowledge of the terrain would win out.
Scattered below the battlement were the wooden cheval de frises left behind by the orcs when Amelie routed their army the year before. She had ordered torches affixed to them, both to serve as range markers for her archers and, she hoped, to blind the Minotaurs night vision.
The top of the battlement was clear of any such light so as not to silhouette the defenders. Only the barest sliver of the waning moon illuminated the night sky, and that was mostly washed out by the fires below. With luck they would be able to rain death unanswered upon the Minotaurs and their orc allies.
Occasionally she thought she heard the whispers of battle on the wind, either faint screams or the clash of iron and wood. Rosalind knew the final hour was approaching, and sure enough her sentries began returning to the hastily constructed fort.
“I saw them Ros, a whole great block of them, marching straight for us. Just like bulls, big giant bulls except with the body of a man. Armed and armored too, with thick axes that look like they could fell a tree.” One of her scouts reported, causing murmurs to spread through the camps. By now everyone had heard that there were Minotaurs, but many had scarce believed the fanciful tales.
“What about orcs? Did you see any of them?” She asked impatiently.
The scout’s answer didn’t satisfy her. He fled before seeing any, just as the others had. It was almost preternatural how the Minotaur vanguard was able to detect her scouts, or perhaps it was just their inexperience showing. She had to rely on boys for her scouts, as they were the only ones left with the eyesight and stamina to get back. But their lack of seasoning meant they didn’t stay long enough to get an accurate accounting of the enemy’s disposition…or stayed too long through a sense of invincibility and thus never returned at all.
The heavy drum of hooves stomping on earth distracted her from that worry though. Right on the heels of her scouts were the monsters themselves marching steadily towards her palisade. “To arms! To the walls! Wait for my signal!” Rosalind rushed back to the wall to get her first glimpse of a Minotaur. The sight of the bull men shook her. Monstrously tall, and monstrously strong. Worse, and to her surprise, they were armed and armored in steel, and were moving in a disciplined formation. At least for now. Perhaps their ranks will break when they charge. It was the best she could hope for, anyway.
“Archers, ready! Loose!” Arrows flew as the Minotaurs marched past the first marker. But as the arrows flew through the air the beastmen raised their massive shields above their heads to absorb the attack.
A humungous Minotaur, seemingly a head taller than the rest bellowed out in some primitive tongue and pointed towards the fort, and the mass began charging the wall.
“First squad, up! Second squad, straight!” She called out, and the first squad loosed another barrage of arrows into the air to rain down on the beasts from above. As the Minotaurs raised their shields, the second squad loosed as well, this time directly at their foe. Rosalind herself joined the second squad, and taking aim for the lead Minotaur loosed an arrow towards the beast.
The massive bull roared as the arrow slammed into his shoulder, but didn’t slow down as he led the column straight to the wall. More arrows followed as the Minotaurs passed the second beacon, but by the third the front ranks had lowered their shields to stop the oncoming fusillade. Rosalind scowled at the arrows jutting out from the shields like the quills of a porcupine. The Minotaur lines hadn’t bowed from the assault, and she wasn’t even sure she had seen a single one of the beastmen fall.
“Keep up the pressure! Keep it up!” She called out, though the large shields made their arrows ineffective at best. Even when they made it through, as one expert shot from a boy to her right did, bounced harmlessly off the Minotaur’s mail. We just don’t have the strength to punch through.
CRACK! BOOM! The crashing sound of wood rending sent shock waves up the palisade as the Minotaurs began to hack away at the wall. Surely they don’t mean to cut through? But it seemed they did. Capitalizing on their great strength, the bull-men were chopping through the wooden beams like lumberjacks.
With the supply of arrows rapidly dwindling, Ros knew she needed to make every one count. Looking for a breach in the wall of shields, she spotted the large Minotaur from before. With careful aim, she loosed the arrow, sending it through the gap between two shields. She grinned in savage glee at the savage roar she heard, but her spirits dropped a moment later as she realized she hadn’t managed to kill him. I wounded him sorely though, at least.
She began to line up another shot when the wall shook, and one of the beams beneath her shifted out of place. Looking down, she saw a splintered end thrusts into the interior of the fort. By the Abyss! They’re through already! Rosalind grabbed her spear and sprinted along the wall towards the stairs leading to the rear gate. I can’t let them cut me off!
As she retreated from the wall darkness began to surround her as she left the light that the burning torches on the far side of the wall had provided. She had to fight off the moment of rising panic when she found herself blinded before her eyes adjusted to the night. She continued along the wall by muscle memory, but by the time she reached the stairs she was able to see enough to sprint down them.
Unfortunately, she could also now see the devastating effect that the Minotaurs were having on the defenders. Towering masses of darkness were enveloping the scattered boys and old men, leaving only choked screams in their wake. They were not so advanced as the rear gate however, and she managed to lift the draw bar with the help of one of her men; she couldn’t see which one in the darkness.
Thankfully the reports had proven right, and the Minotaurs made a direct attack instead of trying to encircle the fort. She ran into the darkness towards the black maw of the Mouth of the Abyss. This is it, time to end this- her thoughts were distracted as she nearly ran into a large orc charging from the darkness. “No!” Rosalind cried out, thrusting her spear into his side. She didn’t stop to see if she penetrated his armor, but kept pushing into the advancing tide. So this is where the green orcs went! She thought with despair.
Light burst into being and the reverse slope of the hill became revealed as if a cloak had been lifted. Green orcs bearing torches were cutting off the escape of the remaining defenders, and with them her chance of casting herself into the Mouth. Curse them! But moments later, the despair gripping her lifted as she spotted Bogor in the crowd. At least I can kill Agmar’s bastard!
Rosalind dropped her spear and readied her bow, nocking an arrow. Bogor was focused on the battle ahead, and didn’t see the danger. Her arrow was lined perfectly with his unguarded throat, but as she loosed the arrow another orc caught it in the chest as he charged into combat. At least she had the satisfaction of seeing the orc fall to the earth, but it was small recompense for missing her chance to kill the new chieftain.
As she lined up a second shot the wind was knocked out of her as a large orc barreled into her and sent her to the ground. Rosalind reached desperately for her spear as she looked up in terror at the orc’s leering grin. A moment later blood showered down on her as a powerful blow cleaved the orc in two. Her relief was short lived though, as a powerful roar shook down her spine and the massive hand of a Minotaur grabbed her by the front of her armor and lifted her up.
The massive brute, with a broken arrow still jutting out his eye snarled at her, sending hot breath wafting over her face. She drew her dagger, but before she could strike back the huge beast through her onto the ground, sending the blade flying from her hand and knocking the wind out of her lungs. Before she could even take a breath the Minotaur’s thick fingers curled into her pants and ripped them down.
Her whole lower body went with them as he dragged her along the earth before the seams of her pants finally burst. The leather peeled off her thighs, and the terror of being violated again nearly paralyzed her. Not again! No! She desperately reached for her dagger, or the spear, or even the arrows that were falling out of her quiver but couldn’t grasp a single one. She just continued to flail desperately as the bestial bull man ripped her panties away next.
Then the beast squeezed both ankles together in one hand as the other pulled his shaft out from beneath his loincloth. He rubbed the tip against her ass cheeks, then thrust it between her thighs, forcing it in as his hips started to stroke back and forth. A lewd snort rippled out from his snout as his lust began to take over at the prospect of having a new female to rut.
“Ooof!” Rosalind felt her long red locks brush through the dirt at the Minotaur lowered her down again. His massive hands wrapped around her ankles, keeping her legs spread far apart as he slapped his massive shaft between her legs. “No!” She bucked her hips, trying to move out of the way but the bull man’s shaft was inescapable.
Nor could his urge to mate be denied. The one-eyed Minotaur skillfully aligned his cock with the entrance to Rosalind’s sex. The large beast was used to mating smaller females, and knew just how to get his mammoth shaft inside their narrow slits.
“Aaah!” Rosalind shrieked as the gigantic slab of meat thrust inside her, stretching her walls in a way that even Agmar and all his tortures couldn’t manage. The back of her head rolled in the dust as the brute yanked her back hard, impaling her even deeper and positioning her so he could grab her by the knees.
Rosalind winced in pain as her back dragged and scraped along the ground. The Minotaur was wildly pulling her up and down on his shaft, creating an obscene dance between them as she jerked undulated on his iron rod. Her insides ached, and the invading shaft was so thick it made her hips feel like they would be knocked out of socket. Still, the constant friction of the monster’s cock against her inner walls began to make her moist, helping to lubricate its passage in and out of her tight tunnel.
“Nnng!” She tried to push herself off the ground, to somehow twist out of the Minotaur’s grasp, but his hands were locked around her legs like vices. She couldn’t escape, and had no choice but to submit to the brutal fucking. Rosalind knew that soon it would be too late, that her body would become too battered and weakened by the coupling to be able to escape. Then she would have to wait for the war to be over for a chance to be rescued; or a chance to kill herself.
But those thoughts were for the future, not for her calamitous present. Rosalind’s bestial lover wasn’t done with her yet. After pulling her all the way down his cock until the fat tip smashed into her cervix, he left her impaled as he reached to grab her wrists. Rosalind groaned as her upper body was lifted off the ground, then winced and turned her head away as the Minotaur’s fat tongue lapped up her cheek, smearing the scent of his spittle all over her face and neck.
With her legs now free she tried to kick him, but the blows were weak and at a bad angle with no leverage. Then he started thrusting again, and the last of the fight went out of her. The renewed battering against her cervix sent shockwaves through her, and each impact made her jerk and spasm. “Ah! Ah! Mmmph!”
The Minotaur’s bull head loomed over her, making the bestial visage inescapable to her, allowing her to see nothing else. Another low groan rippled out her mouth as the Minotaur plunged his tongue into her mouth. Rosalind was forced to suck on it as she struggled to breath. The thick appendage was too large for her mouth just as the beastman’s cock was too wide for her slit, though somehow he managed to cram both inside.
Rosalind’s mind began to spin as the monster rutted her at a ferocious pace. She knew, at least, she hoped that he would be finished soon, and she’d get a respite from the torment. The Minotaur’s stamina seemed endless however, and he continued to ravish her, spearing her with his fat cock again and again.
Finally, he pulled her down hard, skewering her on his cock as he pinned her in place and trapped her on the length. A moment later his seed exploded forth from the tip of his cock, basting her cervix and the inner lining of her vagina with the potent cum. A mighty roar filled the air, momentarily drowning out the cries of battle.
As she felt the bull-man’s cum gushing inside Rosalind slumped forward in final defeat, the resistance seeping out of her alongside the cum dribbling out the rim of her stretched pussy. The large Minotaur wasn’t done humiliating her. He dumped Rosalind onto the ground as he pulled out of her, and then pressed his sloppy cock against her face.
Around her the battle was coming to an end, with her people slaughtered and defeated. Fortunately, there weren’t any other women present to share her fate, and she only hoped that the rest would escape to Heste before the orcs and Minotaurs caught up to them. As for herself, the dream of rescue was already beginning to fade. If they got past Queen Amelie, if she couldn’t stop them, then it’s over, for all of us.
As the Minotaur’s cock stretched her jaw wide and thrust into her mouth her vision began to fade, before turning to black.
****
The fires of the camp could have matched the stars in the sky, if seen from above. But there were no mountains here; they have been left behind when the army marched through the Hell Pass. Now they were in the rolling green fields of Thesta, the breadbasket of the Western Kingdoms. Nothing stood before them, behind them, or around them. The orc army was impossible to miss, but also impossible to sneak up on.
Soft, mewling groans brought Augras’ attention to the prisoner trapped in a wicker cage. It’s getting easier, he thought, taking prisoners. The first time he marched out with the Minotaurs to capture one of Amelie’s men had been the first time he’d done such a dangerous night time raid. Oh, it hadn’t been his first fight, truly. But it was the first time he had ventured out, away from camp, behind the enemy lines to capture a foe.
Now though, it was starting to become routine; the combat part of it at least. As his gaze lingered on the enemy soldier he felt the familiar building of pressure around his heart returning. I hope this part doesn’t become routine.
Only Marishka and four of his men were with him in their own section of the camp, separate from the rest of the army. Grotok doesn’t want to see this again, not after last time.
“He doesn’t like what we do” Marishka observed, “but he doesn’t stop us either. He’s willing to benefit from your power, even as it disgusts him.”
“We’re nearing the end now, it won’t trouble him much longer.”
“No, it won’t.” She agreed, before turning to the captive as well. “You know what you have to do.”
Augras exhaled sharply, and then steeled himself for what was to come. He nodded, and lit the first of the smaller fires that surrounded the center bonfire. One smaller circle of flames was lit at each cardinal direction surrounding the fire. When they were all lit, he stood between the south and western fires and said, “Begin.”
The four guards picked up the wicker basket by long poles and carried it as if it were a litter. When they began to move, the prisoner stirred to life and grasped the bars. “My lord! Please! What are you doing? What is this?”
The prisoner was carried to the northern flame, held up high enough so that he only passed through the smoke. As they moved to the western fire Augras began to channel his magic down his legs and through his feet into the earth, extending tendrils of power to the five flames.
“Please my Lord, ask your questions! You don’t have to put me to the fires! I’ll answer as you wish!”
Augras tried to drown out his words as he focused his attention and willed his power outwards. Three times they carried the prisoner around the circle, passing him through the smoke of the lesser fires. When they completed the third revolution they halted before the northern flames until Marishka approached, clutching a small cloth bag that writhed in her grip.
“What’s that, my Lord? What is that? Oh, by the Abyss!” The Sandoran soldier cried out in fear as Mischa’s bony fingers plunged into the bag and drew out a fat brown rat by the tail. The rodent squirmed about, thrashing madly as she held it in the smoke over the flames.
Images of boils, blisters, pustules, and countless other festering wounds flashed through Augras’ mind as he pushed out his power. The beast’s frantic squeaking was silenced as it finally succumbed to the smoke or heat and dropped it into the fire. The prisoner retched as the scent of burning hair and flesh began to waft through the air. As the rat’s carcass was consumed the guards held the soldier over the flames, forcing him to inhale the smoke until he was coughing violently before carrying him to the western flame where they halted again.
“What is this magic? You’ll be accursed! Please, stop my Lord, please!” The Sandoran’s wail resounded in the night air as Marishka joined him again with another bag. This time she shook the bag out and six fat mosquitos, dulled from the smoke fell onto her outstretched palm. One by one she held them into the flames until the bodies, bloated with blood burst and sizzled into the fire.
This time images of liquid waste and offal flashed through Augras’ mind as the prisoner was held above the flames to inhale the smoke again. More power flowed out of him, and the center fire seemed to glow brighter and hotter as his magic took root.
“I have a wife, Renee is her name, and two small children. Please I beg you, don’t do this!”
Augras forced himself to look the Sandoran in the eyes as he was carried past to the southern fire. He drowned out the feelings of guilt as he saw the wild desperation on his face, and focused on the task at hand. More lives will be saved this way, even if it costs this one.
At the third fire Marishka pulled out a snake, its scales withered and rotted with disease. It twisted weakly in her grasp as she held it over the fire. As its skin began to slough off the prisoner vomited through the wicker cage and into the fire. Augras focused on the sickness, and pushed the image into his power as he fed it out into the fire.
The prisoner slumped forward as the inhalation of so much smoke began to overtake him. At least his protests have been silenced, Augras thought grimly as the Sandoran was taken to the last fire. By now even his own stomach was beginning to feel unsettled, and he wished for the ritual to end.
Marishka reached into the last sack and pulled out a bat, alert and squirming in her grasp. It screeched into the night, then sank its teeth into the Mincenntti’s hand, drawing her dark blood. She let it drip into the fire as she held the bat to the smoke, before finally releasing it to be consumed in the flames.
As she did, Augras pictured an army of men with blood flowing from their noses, their mouths, and their ears while weeping tears of blood. It gathered into a pool, then a pond, and then a lake and drowned them all as the force of his magic flowed from him in a torrent of power.
The four guards carried the prisoner high on the poles, now suspended over the central bonfire. Mercifully, the Sandoran had lost consciousness, but it did not matter. Slowly they lowered him down onto the flames, which licked the clothes from his body, then the skin off his flesh. The fire flared hotter, consuming the man faster, reducing him to ash and smoke. As the body disintegrated, Augras release the breath he hadn’t even known he was holding out, and a great wind caught the remains and blew them north east, directly towards the Sandoran camp.
