Empire Of Pleasures Ch. 04

Night fell and the main fire pit slowly burned down, plunging the tent into a gloomy twilight. Tah-ri could sleep only fitfully, thanks to her uncomfortable position and the emptiness still aching in her.

Tah-ri shuddered involuntarily awake in the depths of the night as some of Jor's seed slowly seeped out of her. Her dreams had flashed again and again over how Jor had taken her, how hot and demanding he was thrusting in to her, his shaft moving in her with relentless rhythm...

She rubbed her thighs together, trying without success to bring some friction to bear on her sex. Thinking and dreaming of him had done nothing to abate her need for release.

She glanced over at Jor, who was snoring softly. She desperately longed to go to him, to slide her naked body next to his. But of course, she couldn't. She didn't even dare wake him to beg for relief. It was true he had never lashed her, but that did not mean he never would if inadvertently made angry enough.

She looked around, desperate to find some way to quench her inner fires. Perhaps her feet; she was fairly flexible. Her training as a harlot slave under her mother had included a great deal in the art of dancing to entice her future masters, and raw dexterity, to delight them. But, sadly, she soon discovered that she was not quite flexible enough. She could sit on her heels, yes, but the position was too uncomfortable to take much pleasure from it.

Looking around anxiously, her gaze suddenly settled on Jor's family sword, nestled in its scabbard by the map table. Her eyes grew wide, regarding it. The sword with its wonderful, long, vaguely penis-like handle and pommel. If she stretched way out, she could barely reach it with her toes.

But dare she? Her master would be angry if he found out. She would be lashed for sure. But the desires in her empty, empty womanhood were becoming unbearable. She fought with herself about what to do for many long minutes.

The more she contemplated the sword, the more she lusted for it in a way she could not quite explain. Almost as if it were calling her, strumming quiet music only her blood could hear. Maybe she would just have to be very, very quiet...

She extended her foot and tipped the sword over toward her, catching the crossbar quietly and expertly in the nook of her knees. She smirked. Perhaps all those dancing lessons had a pay-off for her after all. She stole a glance at her master, who thankfully still slept, oblivious.

Tah-ri flexed her knees outward, slowly using her toes to inch the pommel of the heavy sword toward the nadir of her furry patch. She bit back a soft cry as it made contact with her ribbon of pink flesh. The metal did not feel cold at all. It felt as warm and tingly as it had before. It felt not unlike a man's probing haft, hardened to supreme stiffness by lust for her...

She flexed well-practiced hips up and down, up and down, trying to work the thick knob of the rounded pommel into her wet nether lips. When it finally popped in, Tah-ri shivered and gasped sharply. At last!

She thrust herself back and forth minutely at the weapon, working up the lubrication to slip the weapon in further. Her breathing accelerated and her heart raced as it penetrated her an excruciating hair's breadth at a time. It was nowhere near as exciting as her master's magnificent tool, of course, but it would do. She smirked as a wave of pleasure shuddered through her as she felt its tingly warmth slide under her cervix. It would definitely do.

Finally she worked the entire length of the handle in, and her toes on the scabbard managed to twist the crossbar up at such an angle that she could rub the center of her sex against it. It took only a few heartbeats of the warm steel on her over-sensitized nub to create an overwhelming orgasm. "S-seasons, yes!" she exclaimed in a hoarse whisper. "Aaaaahhh! Gods and Seasons, I can't believe--!! AAAH!" She convulsed and went rigid, her inner folds gripping the sword's handle with spasm after spasm. She had to bite into the meat of her forearm to keep her loud whimpering from waking Jor.

She used the sword to visit two more delicious climaxes on herself, then gripped the sheath with her toes and slowly withdrew the weapon from her body. She panted breathlessly in satisfaction for a few heartbeats, then slowly, excruciatingly worked the sword into some semblance of its former position propped up against the map table.

- - -

Tah-ri was unaware of how or when she fell asleep just a few heartbeats later, only that it was a deep and satisfying slumber.

Which she was yanked abruptly out of as someone violently wrenched her by her hair. She began to cry out at the pain, only to have a massive hand clamp over her jaw. A cruel, strangely-inflected voice hissed, "Well, looks like the General there has some kinky habits."

Tah-ri's eyes darted back and forth. Darkness still veiled the night, and she could make out three silhouettes towering over her. Two were male, one tall and slender and the other massive and burly. It was the latter who held her. The third had definitively feminine curves.

The woman bent close enough to Tah-ri so she could make out some features. Reddish hair, freckles, light skinned. An off-worlder. She quickly and expertly cut Tah-ri's bonds loose.

"Listen closely," the female said, her thickly-accented voice razor sharp. "Cry out or disobey us in any way and you will suffer much agony at Ghend's hands." The huge muscular man smiled wickedly and wrenched her hair painfully for emphasis. "And you will answer our questions quickly and truthfully. Do you understand, slut?"

Tah-ri nodded quickly, her bladder barely resisting the urge to void itself. Oh gods, was this how she was going to die?

The tall, thin man protested, "Don't call her 'slut.' See those tattoos on her back? She's a harlot-slave. It is a profession of some respect, even for a slave." He was the only one of the trio who spoke with a local's tongue.

The woman rolled her eyes. "I little care for what you Zanrini think of your sell-slits, Ar-Ihl-dar. Where I come from, a slut is a slut."

Ar-Ihl-dar crossed his arms. "And that is exactly the sort of thing why you Ximenians will never be welcome here, Rylhan. If you off-worlders can't respect our customs..."

"Enough!" the woman hissed. "We are not here to discuss your gods-shitting customs!" She turned back toward Tah-ri. "So you are the General's little slut, right?"

Tah-ri glanced furtively at Jor, still sleeping soundly in his cot. Why had he not awaken with all this commotion in his very tent? Why had the guards just outside not noticed these three intruders? Had they been ensorcelled somehow? Had...

"Answer!" the woman called Rylhan snarled. Ghend pulled back on her hair violently.

"Y-yes!" she squeaked through tears of pain and terror. "I am his harlot-slave. I am the property of the House of ri. Don't hurt me, please..."

"How long have you been his, slut?"

"A-about a year."

"Is that his sword there?" she pointed toward the weapon leaning against the map table. "The one that his family has had for generations?"

"I think so, yes."

"By the First Clans!" Ar-Ihl-dar exclaimed, reaching for the weapon. "Finally! The legendary Sword of the Trickster! If only those idiot ri had any idea of what they had in their hands. Only my sorcerous research uncovered..." He made a disgusted face as he hefted the blade. "Gods, the handle is all sticky! Doesn't that fool even know how to properly care for his weapons?"

Rylhan canted Tah-ri's chin back toward her. "One more question, whore. You will tell me who I look like, if anyone."

Tah-ri slitted her eyes, confused. "I don't understand."

"You will." Rylhan stood and walked over to the obliviously slumbering Jor, her form redly illuminated by the still-glowing coals in the copper brazier by the cot. She gently lay a hand on his temple, and chanted cryptic words Tah-ri could not understand. Suddenly the woman's form sparkled and shifted. Rylhan became shorter, her hips wider, her breasts swelling from apple to melon size. Her hair turned raven-feather black, spilling down to her waist. Her skin darkened from her sickly pale off-world hue to a richer, duskier, more Zanrini-normal color, until she was only slightly lighter than Tah-ri herself.

Tah-ri's bladder finally lost its hold on her fluids. Ghend made a disgusted sound as urine gushed down her legs.

Dark magic! A sorceress! She yelped a quick prayer to the ghosts of the First Clans. Rylhan-maybe all three of these intruders-were workers of magic! Like all sensible Zanrini, she had always given wizards a wide berth, no matter how useful they may be to the Great Houses at times. Anyone who trucked with their kind without special protection always experienced fates of doom, torture, and sorrow.

Jor! she silently pleaded to her master. Wake up, please, and slay these monsters! Oh, Seasons, please...

The transformed woman clucked with disapproval as she cupped her heavy new bosom through the cloth of her shift. "Big breasts. They always fantasize about big breasts. Didn't any male in the Worlds ever suckle enough as a child?" She turned toward Tah-ri. "Now, who am I?"

Tah-ri surprised herself when she was actually able to find her voice. "I-I don't-" Her eyes narrowed. "Wait. You look like-but that's impossible. She's over forty autumns old, and you are not even older than me, now."

Rylhan slapped her hard. "Who am I, slut?"

The coppery taste of her own blood filled Tah-ri's mouth. "Lady Ru-El-Nik-ri, my master's first wife, the head of his household and holdings."

Rylhan nodded. "Ah. No doubt I look now as she did on their wedding night. Hmf. Not only is your 'Great General' a fool, but a romantic fool as well." Her eyes slitted cruelly. "Have you realized yet that I am an ecstasy mage, slut? The spell I just cast gives me the form of the General's greatest desires and feelings, of his most powerful sexual dream."

She caressed Tah-ri's cheek almost gently. "Part of my talents also include sensing the feeling of others, and yours are as obvious to me as dawn breaking the night. In your own stupid, sluttish way, you love General Jor, don't you? You would willingly do anything for him, wouldn't you? Hells, I bet you already have. But tell me, whore, how does it feel to see that his greatest sexual and emotional desires have nothing to do with you at all? That when my spell probed his mind for images, there was nothing of you in them?"

Tah-ri looked away. Rylhan's words stung more than she could ever have imagined. "I-I am the property of the House of ri," was all she could think of to say.

"You should also know that I will now Seduce your 'Great General,' and will make him my unquestioning sexual slave. He will fall in line with the will of my Master as all the other nobles and sorcerers on this pathetic backwater eventually will. I just want you to know that I will be slipping his manhood deep into my folds, milking his seed for me and me alone, long after you are worm shit buried in a shallow grave no one will ever find." She glanced at Ghend. "Kill her."

The large man's blade flashed into his hand faster than Tah-ri could see as he viciously pulled back on her hair, fully exposing her throat. Tah-ri was too choked by terror to even scream.

Ar-Ihl-dar's hand shot out, staying Ghend's wrist. "Wait. I want her."

Rylhan scowled. "This is not the time for misplaced lust. Your stealth spells will last only a little while longer. She will slow your escape."

"You are not from Zanrina," Ar-Ihl-dar explained. "My house and the House of ri have been feuding since long before any of us were born. It my right under Zanrini custom to claim booty in any victory over our rivals, and making Jor-Gu-Hal-ri a docile slave is definitely a victory for the House of dar. You are off-worlders and don't understand how valuable a commodity a well-trained harlot-slave is. She's the most valuable thing here besides the sword, and Entos will insist on keeping the weapon for himself. It is my right under Zanrini law to take her as spoils."

When Ar-Ihl-dar saw the disapproving frowns on his partners, he sighed. "And I will split half of my promised fee from Entos among the two of you in exchange for her. Fair?"

Rylhan's head dipped, followed a moment later by Ghend's. "Fair," Rylhan said. "But you two must go. Now! And for the Seasons' sake keep your new slut quiet!"

With almost superhuman efficiency Ghend bound her hands fast with loose linens and gagged her securely. Under dire threats of great bodily harm Ar warned her not to try to resist in any way just before he threw her over his shoulder and the two men dashed out of the tent. Tah-ri managed one last glance back at Jor as she was carried away, only to see Rylhan dropping her tunic and slipping her impossibly perfect form next to his on the cot.

Tah-ri's tears blurred the rest of their flight.

- - -

Tah-ri was vaguely aware of passing sentries standing senseless as if in a stupor, completely unaware of their presence as they ran into the nearby hills. They came across a secluded notch in a cliffside where three fully-provisioned horses had been hidden away. Ar-Ihl-dar roughly threw her across one as the two men mounted and galloped away.

Dawn was just licking the horizon as the horses were finally allowed to slow to a trot, and then stop just under a secluded rock outcropping in a remote valley. "We will wait out the day here," Ar-Ihl-dar announced to his partner. "A few well-placed illusions and wards and we should be safe enough from detection."

They left her on the horse as they dismounted. Ghend held the animals as Ar-Ihl-dar stood, waving his hands in various patterns and chanting words completely unknown to Tah-ri. His digits glowed, and Tah-ri could barely make out dull flashes of light at the mouth of the valley. No doubt the illusions he spoke of to conceal the valley from prying eyes.

The Zanrini sorcerer turned toward the other male. "Just be careful not to break the wards. You can sense them, yes?"

Ghend shrugged. "Vaguely."

Ar-Ihl-dar smirked. "And you call yourself a Mage."

"The Order of the Body demands a great deal of discipline, and there is little time for cross-training."

Ar-Ihl-dar rambled over to the horses and pulled Tah-ri down. After he untied and ungagged her, he threw a waterskin in the sand at her feet. "Here, girl. Drink."

A thousand insect stings numbed her hands as circulation slowly flowed back into them. Her throat parched, she clumsily grabbed up the water skin and drank greedily.

"Don't try to escape," Ar-Ihl-dar warned her. "Not only would that displease my partner and me greatly, but there is no other source of water besides us for quite a distance. Even if you somehow got away you would be food for the scavenger wyverns within a day at the most. Now, what is your name, girl?"

She wiped the excess water from her mouth with her hand. "T-Tah-ri."

"Not anymore. You are now my property, and as such you now belong to the House of dar. Your name is now Tah-dar."

"No," she said weakly. "There has been no proper exchange. I am still the property of the House of ri." She stood up, almost defiantly. She was still in a grip of fear, but now a spark of anger had risen to join it. If there was one thing she was absolutely sure of in her life, it was her status as dictated by every custom she had ever known. Nothing this monster could say would change it. "I belong to the Great General Jor-Gu-Hal-ri."

Ar-Ihl-dar's hand exploded from his side, smashing her forcefully across the jaw. She went sprawling, ending up next to the pile of provisions Ghend was unpacking from the horses. Before she could even form another coherent thought, the sorcerer was kneeling over her, pinning her by both wrists.

"Listen closely, harlot-slave. Just because you have some intrinsic value does not mean I will not do what is necessary to discipline you. Bruises heal, bones mend, and scars can be hidden. Understand?"

Despite the pain, her fear ebbed away as her anger sparked into an inferno. She yelled, "I belong to the Great General Jor G-!"

His fist smashed into her jaw. When she tried to speak again, he hit her again before she had even formed her first syllable. Then he got up and kicked her a few times for emphasis. Tah-ri rolled into an agony-wracked ball, sobbing wildly.

Ghend smirked sardonically. "I suppose now you will rape her."

Ar-Ihl-dar sneered. "It is not rape for a master to take what is rightfully his. But tell you what, I am not greedy. You can have her yourself, after I of course take the first turn with her."

The Body Mage shook his head. "No thanks. She is not my type."

"Oh?"

"Wrong gender, and far too old. But you have your fun." He ambled off toward the horses.

Ar-Ihl-dar only laughed and bent down to easily tear off Tah-ri's stringy jewel-and-pewter garment. He dragged her limp body to the main pile of provisions and spread a blanket. He rolled her onto it and undressed himself.

Only when he began kneading and licking her breasts in the most disgusting way possible did Tah-ri recover enough of her senses to act. She punched and kicked her assailant, crying weakly, "You can't do this! I am not your property! I belong to the House of ri!"

But Ar-Ihl-dar was much bigger and stronger than her, and laughed at her blows as he pinned her with his body weight. He slowly pulled her legs apart and poised his repulsively throbbing member to violate her.

"NO!" Tah-ri cried, her hands searching desperately around her for something, anything, to hit him with. Miraculously, her hands found and grasped a familiar length of metal, just as his member touched the outer gates of her womanhood.

She snarled with a ferocity that surprised even her. She swung the sword out of its scabbard and thrust it with surprising force into Ar-Ihl-dar just below his ribcage all in one smooth motion.

Ar-Ihl-dar screamed primally, his face contorting into an impossible rictus. His body jerked and contorted, and just as Tah-ri was sprayed with his life's blood, his member erupted with powerful jets of seed. She tried to back away from the double torrent, but was quickly bathed in his fluids, both crimson and white. She jerked the sword out of him with a sickening slurk just as he fell back, his eyes staring blankly into eternity.

Tah-ri tried to stand up, but all she managed to do was double back over and vomit violently.

"What in all the hells happened here?" Ghend exclaimed as he returned from the horses. "When I heard you two screaming, I just thought...How in the seasons did you get ahold of that sword, girl? I swear I left it on AR's horse!"

Tah-ri looked up at him, then at the sword, confused.

Ghend snickered and casually pulled his massive long sword from the sheath on his back. The curved blade alone looked to be as long as Tah-ri was tall. "Well, I guess I now have every right to call him a fool, for bringing you along and then getting so careless for just a moment's pleasure." He slowly walked toward her. "Nothing personal, girl, but you were his booty, not mine. I have no use for a harlot slave. Don't resist and I will make this as painless as possible."

His blade arced high, descending toward her with astonishing speed. Before she was even consciously aware of her actions, Tah-ri sprang to her feet, no longer sickly or in pain, and clanged her sword violently up against Ghend's. Ghend's blow stopped dead a foot away from her face, the grinding metal of the blades moaning. The Body Mage gaped in utter astonishment. Tah-ri growled low, exulting that all her rage and pain and humiliation now had an outlet, and redoubled the force of her strike with another lightening-quick upper-cut swing. Ghend's blade flew out of his hands with the force of it. Ghend was already backing away when she slashed at him, leaving a wide, shallow rent across his chest.