The Warrior's Story

Miss asked me if I'd march back to her camp without causing any trouble; otherwise, she'd have the drover put fishhooks into my breasts with the line tied to the wagon. I agreed that I'd behave and fishhooks would not be necessary. The drover made a face as if to say she'd prefer otherwise. The trip back was difficult, as I was walking barefoot and the ground was rough.

After a few miles, my breasts were on fire. The barbs in my nipples hurt at each step when my breasts would bounce causing the pennants to bounce. Also, I was limping and stopping occasionally to brush small pebbles from my feet. I swore I wouldn't complain. I won't complain. I will NOT complain.

I'm a warrior, and warriors don't complain. Further, I can't complain because of my oath of fealty; however, I berated myself for not choosing death. Now, even suicide is not an option for me. I had given my word, and my word is more important to me than my life. I have nothing more to look forward to for the rest of my life except sexual servitude. I'll be providing sexual stimulation and release for Miss and to whomever she lends me; however, I'll never have anyone love me or give me sexual pleasure or release.

Miss must have seen me limping and motioned for me to come with her. She led me to the wagon transporting the warriors who had been killed in the battle. She told me to board the wagon and ride back to the camp. I swung aboard while the wagon was still moving and sat on the sideboard. I could hardly believe that my captor would be so benevolent. I would have let her suffer if I had taken her prisoner.

I cleaned my feet as best I could with my hands. Then, I looked at the boots of the deceased and had an idea. I found a pair my size, took them off of the woman who would never need them again and pulled them on my own feet. A good fit. I jumped off the wagon and began walking again. Miss motioned for me again and told me to get aboard the supply/medical wagon. She followed me aboard and got the needle nose pliers that the drover had been using to pluck out my pubic hair. I was prepared for Miss to do the same, and I spread my legs and raised up my pussy to make it easier for her to reach my bush, or what was left of it.

She pushed me back and took hold of my right breast and squeezed. I prepared myself for whatever she was going to do to me -- without complaint. I swore to myself that when she tortured my breasts with the pliers that I wouldn't scream or beg. I'm a warrior and warriors don't beg for mercy. She grabbed the pennant barbed into my nipple, told me to hold my breath, and yanked the pennant out. Excruciating, but I was glad it was out. Miss sprayed my nipple with a soothing antiseptic and the pain stopped. It was such a relief that I started to cry -- softly, but tears ran down my cheeks. I have never cried in my life before, not even as a child, and certainly not from pain from battle wounds. I'm crying because this is the first time anyone has ever been nice to me.

Miss took the pennant out of my left breast in the same way. I wanted to throw my arms around her and kiss her, but that wouldn't have been permitted. I know I'm not supposed to touch my mistress unless she tells me to do so. We've all had training as to how to act when a prisoner of war. I thanked Miss heartily. I would have gladly eaten her out right then and there no matter how dirty and sweaty her pussy was. I think I'll love her. (Stockholm syndrome? Jan)

Miss dropped out of the wagon and began marching beside the rest of her troop. I followed suit and marched beside her albeit two steps behind. She looked back at me and smiled. I smiled back and knew I was in love with her. I had been concerned about how in my mind; I would change from being a free warrior to being another woman's sex slave. I'm no longer concerned. At this point, I would give my life to protect Kit'n. I may have to call her Miss out loud, but in my mind she's Kit'n. I certainly AM in love with her. I'll have no problem at all being her sex slave. Odd~! I've never felt love before. I had lust for my tent-mate and a few other comrades although I never approached them. My tent-mate would have thrown me out if I had not been true to her. But lust is not love.

Strange that my mistress was such a fierce fighter and rough when she took me to be her sex slave, and now, when she could be as cruel to me as I would have been to her, she treats me well, with respect and kindness. For some reason, that does bring tears to my eyes. Stop it Kai'la; this is not the time to grow soft. You don't know how you'll be treated once we're in her camp.

I doubt if my former comrades would have been as concerned about me as Kit'n is. They would probably have found my plight humorous and laughed at my pain and discomfort. I intend to be the best-damned sex slave Kit'n could imagine. No one else in my entire twenty-two years has ever been so compassionate towards me.

I have several concerns -- and dreads. How will her comrades treat me when she lets them use me? Will she use me as her piss-pot as I would have used her? Will she make me lie on my back while she pees in my mouth? I have a difficult time swallowing while I'm on my back. When my tent-mate Tan'e sat on my face and came in my mouth, I'd gag trying to swallow her female fluids. Worse when she'd squirt her joy juice in my mouth when she had a G-spot orgasm. She wasn't concerned when I gagged and sputtered trying to swallow it as she squirted. In fact, she'd be annoyed that I couldn't swallow fast enough. Maybe I could explain to Kit'n, and she'd permit me to drink her pee while she was on her back, or when I was on my knees with her pussy in my mouth. I've never had to drink pee before. Hopefully, Kit'n's doesn't taste awful.

Oh my holy novae~! What if she wants me to tongue fuck her anus? I'd have had her do that to me, but I would hate to have to do that myself. Of course, I'd have no choice if that's what she likes and tells me to do.

I imagine she'll whip me for slight infractions. Hopefully, she won't whip my breasts until my nipples heal.

What's the worst that she can do to me or order me to do? What would I have done to her if I had taken her prisoner? Licking her pussy? I enjoy licking pussy, but what if she has me licking her when she menstruates? I would have had her do that for me. Well, a warrior has to drink blood anyway. What difference is it to drink animal blood or human blood?

I would have had her amuse me by having my dogs mount her, so I guess I can expect the same.

I would have had her keep my pussy licked clean all the time, so I wouldn't have even bothered to wash. I've always hated the harsh soap I've had to use to wash my genitals. I wouldn't have had to if she had kept me licked clean. I assume I'll have to do that for her.

I would have humiliated Kit'n in so many ways. I can handle pain, as I'm a warrior; however, I won't do so well with humiliation -- as I'm a warrior. I should have let her finish me when I was still stunned.

When the suns go down and the temperature, as usual, drops thirty degrees, I'll have to sleep naked on the frozen ground without furs or thermal blankets. Maybe I'll die of hypothermia. Then my concerns won't matter.

The suns are low on the horizon, and I am already feeling the grip of the lower temperature. My captors are wearing their furs, but I know I'll not be awarded any. Mine are back in the supply wagon heading back to my old encampment. Any spares here are used to cover the wounded.

I've heard that freezing to death is not a painful way to go. Maybe I'll ask Kit'n if I could sleep in the funereal wagon to be above ground when the suns set. I'd have to sleep on top of the corpses, which would not be giving off heat, but it would still be better than the frozen ground. I can't stop shivering; it's getting really painful and hard to walk.

They're calling a halt to the train. They must be preparing to stop marching for the night. Kit'n, mmm, Miss, is beckoning for me to follow her to a supply wagon. She will be picking up a thermal sleeping bag and will want me to carry it back to where she plans to sleep. I hear her tell the drover, "No, not that one. The one in the other pile." She hands it to me and tells me to carry it over next to the tree yonder. There are already troops laying out their bedding in rows.

As I start to do as ordered, I see Kit'n walk to the funereal wagon where several of her comrades are shackling two other of my fellow captives aboard the wagon. She is arguing with them. Odd, they are removing the snap clips from the prisoners' wrists to ankles and allowing them to walk back to the campsite.

She is following her comrades and seems to be berating them.

While I'm laying out the sleeping bag, another warrior approaches and tells me she is Kit'n's tent mate, K'leete. She will be sleeping in the bag with Kit'n. I suppose I'll be sleeping on the frozen ground next to them, and maybe I can rest against their sleeping bag and keep part of me warmer.

When Kit'n returns, she hugs and kisses K'leete and thanks the Old Novae in the sky for K'leete's battle survival. After K'leete climbs into the thermal sleeping bag, Kit'n holds it open and looks at me. I have no idea what she wants of me. Oh, I suppose she wants me to hold it open while she climbs in. I try to take the corner to hold it, but she slaps my hand away. I'd ask her what she wants me to do, but she hasn't given me permission to speak to her. I'm perplexed, but I better figure out what is expected of me before she punishes me.

Oh my Holy Novae, Kit'n is pointing into the bag and nodding at me. Could she possible be expecting me to climb in? I must appear bewildered as she is nodding and pointing into the bag next to K'leete who now is patting the space next to her. I'm in shock, but I tentatively step into the bag and Kit'n smiles and nods.

Am I already frozen to death and dreaming my death life? As I climb in, K'leete guides me to spoon with her. She reaches around me and squeezes my breasts. I must be dreaming my death life. When Kit'n slides in, she backs her bottom against my belly and wiggles tight against me. I AM dreaming my death life. Within minutes, I am warm and comfortable and, Lord Novae, I'm turned on by the warm female flesh that sandwiches me. Is my death life dream going to continue, or will I wake to find myself sleeping on the frozen ground, freezing?

After a few minutes, I realize that I'm still alive and that I'm not dreaming my death life. I begin crying again. Why do I do that? Warriors don't cry. I would march into hell beside these women and gladly give my life for them.

The warm, physical contact makes my body relax after a difficult, stressful day of combat and despair. I begin to doze, but my last thoughts before sleep are that somehow, as I'm in love with Kit'n. I must protect her at all costs in future battles. If she dies, I die. Then too, I'd be passed around by her unit comrades -- possibly by the entire company, and they wouldn't be as benevolent as my Kit'n. But what if she marches into combat against my former comrades? I'd have to choose between them and her.

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Endnote:

Readers: I ended the Warrior's Story here and would leave the rest up to your fertile imaginations. Remember, the warrior's thoughts are just that -- thoughts - and the things she thinks about like death and bestiality are not actually happening.

I hadn't intended on continuing the Warrior's story as it is just part of the original story I am still working on; however, if I get enough requests, I'll write more about the Warrior in a future chapter. As I've mentioned, this chapter was written as a basis for a sexual fantasy of a man called Arthur. In any case, I will go on to write about his fantasy in his story. -- Jan