Attack of the Chakra Witches Ch. 01

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Prologue

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Long ago, before the Great Flood, the vast plains of Idorn, what would one day become central Eurasia, was a strange world where there were kingdoms, even empires, where women reigned over men. While their numbers were small, these matriarchal kingdoms tended to be larger and control more valuable resources than their male counterparts. Their kingdoms were also more stable because their rulers applied a female-centered magic called chakra to control their male populations with an iron fist.

While men were larger physically and more powerful, they feared the females of these matriarchal kingdoms. For if a male was taken, either in war or on a raid, they were commonly broken, through sex, to the will of their captors. Once broken, these men would prove to be particularly loyal to their mistresses whether they were utilized as warriors, laborers, concubines, or whores.

And while in this savage age, strength, virility, and stamina were valuable in fighting, woe be to any such man who fell captive to these kingdoms. For once captured, even the most virile and powerful of males would be broken and trained to become a highly valued 'chakra male'. Once trained, a chakra male was pampered and fed the best of diets. However, his genitals would be literally under lock and key, only accessible to his mistress. When needed the male's chakra would be taken by his mistress in a sex act to create her own penis used to look into other (both men and women) minds, scrye the future, or break down an opponent through rape.

At the same time, each act drew from the male's life force and, depending on the intensity of the act, could drain the male of anywhere from a week to almost a year of their virility. It was even rumored that through careful selection of their 'Chakra Males' and in developing their own chakras some empresses and queens had even been able to reverse their own aging by pulling the life force from both the Chakra Male and their victims. And for most chakra males, their remaining lives tended to be short.

Denina Humbre, Duchess of Yoe, was one the Dokanian Empire's greatest generals. At just under 6 feet tall and extremely well muscled, she developed a reputation as a fearsome and a terrifying opponent. Many of the empire's top male officers had been defeated and then broken by Denina personally as well as some of the empress's oldest and favorite chakra males as well.

One of her favorite chakra males was a Altan eparkos (captain) Kroj Aban, who she captured, enslaved, and molded in her campaign against the Kingdom on Alta whose beautiful capital she would take as her own. This is Kroj's story of enslavement.

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Chapter 1

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I was shaken awake by my NCO Aze,"Sir, the day begins!"

Groggy, I ask,"how are the men's morale?"

"We lost two last night," Aze replied.

"Damn! Fuck those cowards!" I grumbled coming awake. As a female-dominated society, the Dokanians had a fearful reputation of enslaving captured males to their will. And once broken, these males were never able to break this hold their mistresses had over them. I myself have killed several of my former comrades in battle. Not out of hate, or fear. These broken men were no longer former comrades, but just another enemy.

"How's the morale?" I repeated.

"They're scared," Aze said bluntly, "rumors started last night that there are witches among the Dokanians across from us."

"Will they fight? Can we count on them to hold the line?" I asked.

"Sure they will fight," Aze replied, "but if there are witches, I..."

"Fuck!" I cut him off. The Altan army was over two thousand strong battle-hardened males, with another three hundred militia and bowmen auxiliaries. In the briefing last night, Kroj was told that the Dokanians numbered no more than five hundred males, both native-born and broken, and about another a fifty female leaders and slavers among them. Against any other foe, today's battle would have occurred days ago with the king's forces attacking their numerically undermanned opponent.

However, as the two armies met four days ago, it quickly became aware to the king that a powerful witch had accompanied the Dokanian force. For as the Altan king set his forces, the Dokanians quickly countered his every move. This implied that the witch was acting as a warg, using some bird overhead to observe the king's forces, allowing the witch to counter each move. And if there was a witch, especially one capable of warging, there were also at least a half dozen

chakran warrior-priestesses being placed in the most advantageous position for the Dokanians.

Next to the empresses, queens, and duchesses of Doka who ruled their female-dominated domains through chakran magic, chakran warrior-priestesses were probably the most important factor in the rise of female-domination in the lands of Idorn.

While their powers were temporary, drawn through the virility of captive males before a battle, their strength, speed, and agility in battle was uncanny. Furthermore, the pungent scent exuded by the chakran priestesses, while driving their own broken males into a fierce bloodlust, tended to make their opponents more docile and subservient. Accompanied by male warriors, broken by females, to guard their flanks, the chakran priestesses were literally the 'tanks' of the

antediluvian era.

It was common in many a battle for inexperienced warriors, upon simply seeing and/or smelling a chakran priestess, to throw down their arms and fall to the ground, beseeching a priestess to enslave them. And if a line broke, the priestesses would, with their broken males rolling up an undefended flank, fall upon any officers and NCOs, breaking them to the female will with their mystical chakra cocks.

And it was the witch and her chakran priestesses that forced the king to withdraw his much larger army from the field and, in a two-day forced march to redeploy on the Mounds of Venii, a V-shaped set of ridges overlooking a flat plain. Named after the Idornian goddess of fertility, the Mounds of Venii formed an almost perfect defensive position. Given that the outer slopes of ridge were so much steeper, an attacking army was pretty much forced to be funneled into

the vertex of the mounds.

On the first night of the retreat, the king lost some fifty men who simply fell away as both armies marched to the east. A few more slipped away the second night of the forced march, hoping like the first group to avoid Altan or Dokanian patrols. And just as morale plummeted at the beginning of the retreat, it soared as the men saw the mounds. Having arrived in the late morning of third, the males of the Altan army had plenty of time to rest and recover from the march. By nightfall, some men even bragged among themselves of taking a Dokanian female as a slave.

Yet just as the two ridges proved perfect for defense, the ground between them proved the mounds weak link. For beginning in the middle of the V, the land between the ridges started a subtle downhill decline to where, at the point were the ridges were the closest, a thousand foot gap still remained.

And that was where I, Eparkos (Captain) Kroj, and my elite contingent of some two hundred males, experienced in fighting chakra priestesses, were placed. Flanked by the king's best archers on each side, each elite warrior was equipped with one or two spears. It was their mission to kill any charging priestesses and dispatch the remaining broken males. Should my men succeed in killing the priestesses the males on each ridge would then descend on the remaining Dokanian army.

However, killing a priestess was not easy, and it was rare that one would be fallen by a single arrow or spear. Rather, the projectiles were realistically used only to slow the priestesses down, while elite troops were needed to engage, immobilize, then finish off the fallen priestesses. If my troop failed, the whole Altan army was doomed to death or enslavement. Thus, the whole coming

battle would be decided within an hour.

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Quick questions "Are the bowmen in place?" "Have the spears been handed out?"

"Have the shipments of arrows for the bowmen, promised arrived?"

Having fully dressed, I flipped open my tent flap to see...Fog! Thick, clinging fog all along the valley floor. My heart fell. Were we doomed even before the battle began? To win, my elite troops needed visibility to initally engage the Dokanians at at least 200 feet. In the moonlight overhead, I could make out Altan troops moving into positions on the ridge over 2000 feet away.

But in this fog, I was unable to see my fellow males 20 feet to either side of the position that Aze and I took up in the line.

About an hour before sunrise, as the moonlit sky began to lighten, I could hear my men making last minute preparations. The sounds were subtle, but distinct. And the fog appeared to lifting in spots where ghostly apparitions could be seen flitting about. But most disconcerting to me was the scent of priestess pussy. Just as the gentle easterly breeze was breaking up the fog, it was also

degrading the fighting spirit of his men, one breath at a time.

Then, as just as I noticed the first calming, soothing, submissive effects of the scent, a clear voice pierced the twilight, "Altan warriors, we all know the battle is over! And you know within an hour, we will have broken your lines and begun breaking your bravest to the will of the female! So throw down your weapons! Come forth to our lines and lay yourself supine so we may begin your enslavement!"

For a moment, all was silent again. Then a male on the ridge to the left yelled out in false bravado, "Come on up bitch! We'll all enjoy fucking your limp body when you get here!"

But there was no laughter following it up. Nor did any Altan follow it up with another insulting jibe. Instead a high-pitched, keening ululation came up out of the fog. Kroj tensed, anticipating a Dakonian charge any second. But none came. Instead, in the otherwise still night the ulaulations continued, unnerving me and my men. Fights began breaking out to both my right and left. I could also see males on the ridges on begin to fight among themselves.

"Hold!" I screamed over the din. But now I heard pounding footsteps of one of my own elite soldiers running to the Dakonian lines. "I said hold, save your spears for the witches!"

It was at that moment that a cohort of males on the ridge to the right, threw down their weapons and sprinted down into the fog. More fighting to my right and left as an NCO on our left yelled out,"just kill the coward! Fuck him!"

And another set of footpads as another elite male ran to his Dakonian enslavement. Uncertain of the integrity of his own lines, Kroj yelled out over the ululations, "Reserves forward! Into the lines!"

So there it was. I had commited my unproven reserves to shore up the shaky front line of elites...all before a single Dakonian warrior had appeared from the fog. And just as sudden as the ululations had started...they stopped!!

In the silence following, I could make out the binding and blindfolding of Altan warriors. How many men did we lose in the last ten minutes? A hundred? Two hundred? And how many Altans lay dead and dying in the Altan lines? Slain by their own brethren. Kroj guessed at least another fifty.

As I contemplated these sobering calculations I, the leader of my kingdom's very best soldiers, fell into a terrible depression. Only when the first rays of morning broke overhead and a trumpet blast brought the Dakonians charging out of the mist, that I snapped back into warrior mode.

At least 80 broken males lept out of the fog over the two hundred feet of ground that we defended. And instead of the two or three priestesses I expected to see, at least six witches were running forward. And even with the reserves, I had maybe 40 warriors to hold the Altan line.

Of course, as soon as the Dakonians appeared, a rain of arrows and at least two dozen spears flashed out of the Altan lines to meet them. At least a dozen males and one priestess went down on this volley. However, the priestess, a tall blonde popped back up and began pulling out the four arrows that found their mark in her chest. I thought two of the arrows would have killed a normal man, but as she plucked these arrows out, with blood flying, they seemed only to

get her mad as she charged forth once more.

Alerted by a blood-curdling cry, I spotted a huge black-haired priestess charging directly at me and hit her with his spear from 30 feet. Rather than hitting my intended target, her exposed neck, it still drove through her upper left shoulder. Barely losing a step, her eyes flashed upon me as she shifted her war club to her left hand and snapped off the shaft with her right.

Another four broken males fell in a second arrow volley before they crashed into the Altan lines. My men maintained their discipline and felled at least another five males from the first wave of Dakonians. However, at least two more waves of broken males with a sprinkling of priestesses were still coming. To my left, Grik, a valued veteran was felled by a priestess with a single blow from her war club as Grik was pulling his blade from the chest of a broken male.

To my right, Aze was being tackled by two broken males in a bull rush as a third was beating on Aze's head with the hilt of his sword. I quickly dispatched two broken males and was engaging a third when thunderous blow rent my helm and drove me to my knees. As I turned to defend myself, I looked into the face of the huge black-haired witch I had driven my spear into. Before I could react, she struck me across the face with the broken shaft of that same spear, and I fell unconscious.

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I awoke to the sight of the broken male who was bludgeoning Aze now sitting astride his now stipped nude and unconscious body. As I looked around, I saw that the day was not even an hour long. The Dokanians had not only broken our line, but were now assaulting Altans on the ridges, easily driving back the inferior forces. In the valley where I lay not a single Altan was standing.

As the broken male began trussing up Aze's legs, I attempted to come to Aze's aid, only to crash back down. As I hazily looked around all I could see were dead and trussed up Altans like Aze. There was the sound of distant fighting and...slapping.

I looked to my left to see Grik face-down pinned underneath a busty redheaded priestess half his size who was slapping her hips into his bare ass. Around the two battling warriors stood four broken males, swords drawn, but intently watching the strange wrestling match. A mountain of a man, Grik's arms struggled to push him to his feet and fight the priestess, but she showed immense strength as she kept him in place while pounding her hips into his ass. Suddenly, Grik

seized up and then collapsed, bonelessly under the priestess who let out a cry as she pinned her hips to Grik's ass.

"FUUUCCKKKK! What a beast!" the priestess crowed to the cheering of her men. As she got off the now stunned Grik, I saw what he always thought was a myth and a rumor meant to intimidate his men.

Poking out from the priestess' hips was a blood-red cock! About a foot long, it was heavily veined and throbbing, literally glowing. Pulling her knife from her scabbard, the redhead easily flipped Grik onto his back.

As she began cutting away Grik's trousers and codpeice, Grik came out of his trance and began to struggle. However, unlike before, his resistance to the priestess seemed weak and disorganized.

Throwing her knife aside, she sneered, "on your back my little whore!"

Pinning his legs up to his ears, the priestess was laughing as Grik tried to slap and push her away. But when her chakra penis penetrated his ass once more, Grik cried out in pain and began grabbing at the turf beneath him, trying to now pull himself from underneath his tormentress. Grik's struggles slowed, then stopped as his smaller foe picked up the pace in fucking his ass.

The priestess was now fucking him hard and fast, showing no mercy, the chakra at her hips glowing a pale red. Grik groaned out coquettishly as his cock spewed cum all over his bare chest. Lying passively underneath the redhead, Grik's eyes were glazed over, and his mouth going from a grateful smile to a passionate 'o' as the redhead repeatedly slammed her chakra into his ass.

His cock, once stiff and red, now flopped round on his belly. A couple of times Grik foze and began shaking, like a woman orgasming. After one such convulsion, the priestess stopped thrusting, keeping Grik pinned on her chakra. As Grik's spasms began to lessen, the witch grabbed his hair and began slapping his face, "Look at me! Look! What do you see?"

"Mmmmissstress?", Grik sputtered, his eyes only now focusing on the redhead's face.

"Mistress Jaen! You slut!," his mistress roared, striking Grik alongside the head as though she was trying to beat sense into him. Grik only lolled boneless beneather her, content in his new position. By the time she dropped his head to the ground, he was already unconcious.

"Gracii!", Mistress Jaen roared, pulling out of Grik, her chakra now an ugly glowing orange-red.

"Yes Mistress," the broken male behind me responded.

"Get over here and truss up this slut," she ordered.

"But what about this officer? Shouldn't..." Gracii asked.

Cutting off the broken male, Jean replied, "forget him, can't you see Duchess Denina coming back to claim him? Make sure you mark this one properly. And make sure he gets registered back at the slave pens. I've probably lost four males in my pack today and I will not," slapping the ass of the passed out Grik, "lose this fine peice of ass to any fuckup on your part!"

"No Mistress Jaen!", Gracii groveled sprinting to Grik's prone body,"I will personally deliver him to the pens myself!" Mistress probably did not hear his reply as she ran off to the left to pursue another suitable male.

Looking behind me I saw Denina, the tall, black-haired priestess who had knocked me out several minutes earlier, approaching. Still addled by the blow I began scrabbling around for a weapon. Throwing aside her war club and without missing a step, the duchess kicked me in the face, flipping me onto my back. At 6'3" and 200 lbs, I should have easily defeated my smaller foe. But my concussion, the phenomes, and Denina's ferocity made my efforts a hopeless effort.

Soon I was flat on my back with Denina sitting on my chest, pinning my arms under her knees. To further humilate me the priestess began delivering open-hand slaps to my face, "You think I forgot about you cunt! That you drove your spear through my shoulder! Get ready to meet your master!!!"

At this point I gave up, lying passively under Denina as she continue to strike me with open-hand slaps. Satisfied with my submission, she grabbed me by my hair and pulled me to my feet, "Strip!"

I kept my head low as I began to remove my armor. As I was doing so, she tore away her codpeice, revealing her chakra cock. Dark red, it throbbed and twitched.

When I had stripped my armor, Denina pulled a dagger from her sheath. Fearing that she was now going to finish me off, I turned to run...only to have Denina knock me down and straddle my back. "Hold still cunt!" she roared, cuffing the back of my head. Sufficently cowed, she proceed to cut my undershirt and breeches from my body.

Getting up, Denina flipped me over and let out a subtle gasp. My cock, released from its own codpeice now stood at attention. Thick and ten inches long, I had used it to fuck many a woman to satisfaction. Yet now, despite the many humilations laid on me by the Dakonians, it was engorged and fully erect.

"Oh my," Benina cooed as she reach down to fondle it, "to think I was going to make you a just a broken male. No, I now have much greater plans for you."