Vale of the Hist

"We have ... jewels, gold, food, furs ...." Rhialla strove to keep her voice steady, but when she glanced again at her imprisoned sister she felt a burning lump growing in her throat. She noted that the second slavegirl, the one who had appeared just before the arrival of the Broodmaster's carriage, had crept up close to one of the Hist guarding Brianna's cage; she was squatting beside the reptile's leg, masturbating as she peered intently at Brianna.

"The glorious Broodmaster has little use for such trinkets," Glisten was translating. "Humans have very little of value to offer the implaccable Hist."

"But...what will you take in exchange for Brianna?" asked Rhialla, stifling a sob. "The King must have His daughter back; she is His dearest treasure."

She glanced again at her caged sister, and saw that the slavegirl squatting by the cage had turned her body toward the Hist guard. She pressed her small breasts against the gleaming scales of the hideous beast's abdomen, grinding herself eagerly against it. Rhialla could not take her eyes away from the mortifying spectacle -- the shameless slut was trying to entice that vile creature, brazenly seeking to couple with it right in front of the Human delegation, like some rutting animal.

The slave, still fondling herself with her left hand, slid her right hand up under the Hist's tail, behind its legs. The Hist lifted its tail, and its tongue began to flicker with what Rhialla supposed must be arousal. What was the slavegirl doing? How would she pleasure her saurian Master?

"The great Broodmaster makes only two demands on the Humans," Glisten said. Rhialla reluctantly returned her attention to the Hist Broodmaster.

"What are they?" she asked.

"Firstly, the human sluts Glisten and Thistle are to copulate with your human males here for the purpose of insemination."

Glisten's face reddened as she spoke, though Rhialla suspected this was from excitement rather than humiliation. The Princess understood the reason for this demand -- since the Hist routinely sacrificed all captured human males in the name of their foul goddess, they had no means of maintaining their supply of slaves through simple breeding processes.

Rhialla glanced at Sir Arrack, and saw on his face the same steely grim expression he had worn all morning. She knew he and his men-at-arms would couple with the filthy Hist-thrall if it would ensure the return of Brianna; a blade of jealousy stabbed her heart, though she well knew Sir Arrack would derive no pleasure from the deed.

"It will be done," she said.

The Broodmaster communicated its second demand to Glisten, and the slavegirl's eyes widened as she listened. She began crushing her breasts together with the heels of her palms as if determined to macerate them to a pulp. Grimacing, she said, "The majestic Broodmaster also requires..." She hesitated, still savaging her breasts, and now writhing with dismay; but before her Master could lose its patience with her she continued hurriedly, "...requires that thirty human sluts be handed over in exchange for the one named Brianna."

Rhialla gasped, her heart sinking. There were scarcely three hundred adult women left in her father's entire paltry kingdom -- they could not afford to part with thirty of them. Rhialla realized with dreadful certainty that she had made a terrible mistake by revealing the extent of her father's distress over Brianna's capture. Now the Hist was determined to take full advantage of the Human King's desperation.

The thirty women would be wives and daughters, mothers and sisters, condemned to live in abject slavery to the abominable Hist. But she could never agree to such a demand, not after seeing Glisten and Thistle and those wretched ponygirls. She could not force such a nightmarish existence on anyone.

"I cannot!" she said, her head spinning. "I cannot give you thirty innocents to despoil."

The Broodmaster was silent a moment. Then it hissed a few words, gathered up its reins and raised its lash. "The great Broodmaster departs," said Glisten, her voice subdued. "The slut Brianna will wear His collar and His brand."

"Wait!" Rhialla cried. "Do not go, I beg of you!"

The Hist paused, its lashed upraised over the trembling ponygirls.

"I offer the mighty Broodmaster an even trade -- myself for Brianna!"

"No!" bellowed Sir Arrack. "Rhialla!"

He put out a hand to restrain her, gripping her thigh painfully with his heavy gauntlet. She put her own tiny hand on the metal fingers, looked into the knight's face with a sorrowful smile. "This is the only answer, dear Arrack," she told him softly. "Father will mourn my loss, but He will not pine away as He has over Brianna. She must be returned, so that she may be queen one day."

"Do not take this course!" Sir Arrack demanded, in his passion squeezing her thigh so vehemently that she winced. "You are infected by the proximity of the Hist; your thoughts are not rational!"

"I will not send thirty women into the clutches of the Hist!"

"You would choose to spend the rest of your days as a Hist-thrall, like that thing there?" He indicated Glisten with a contemptuous nod of his head. "A slave to beasts!"

The Hist Broodmaster spoke then, and to Rhialla's ears the infernal hissing sounded more sinister than ever. "The implacable Broodmaster graciously accepts the human slut's plea to wear His collar and brand," said Glisten. "The slut Rhialla will disrobe and kneel before her Master; the slut Brianna will be released."

"Rhialla!" cried Sir Arrack, despairing.

"The decision is made, Sir," the Princess replied firmly. "Remove your hand."

Sir Arrack obeyed, his face ashen. Rhialla breathed deeply, a final breath of freedom, and climbed down from her saddle. Her legs felt wooden, numb, as she unclasped her woolen riding cloak and threw it back over the saddle. She bent and pulled off her riding boots and set them carefully aside; then she fumbled with the ivory buttons of her linen blouse, her heart in her throat.

The eyes of the Hist Broodmaster were on her, impassive and unfeeling. Glisten was also watching her, still clutching her breasts but now merely pinching the prominent nipples, an inscrutable expression on her pretty, gaunt face. The slavegirl Thistle was still devoting her full attention to the Hist gaurd; she had succeeded in coaxing a fearful appendage from beneath its scales -- a ruddy shaft ten inches long and as big around as her wrist, the end of which swelled into a bifurcated protruberance larger than her fist. She stroked the hideous shaft vigorously, panting with excitement.

Rhialla shrugged out of her blouse, baring her small firm breasts. She lowered her face, mortified, wondering if Sir Arrack were staring at her. There would be no reason for him to show decorum to a mere slave.

A slave! A slut, owned by a beast! Her nipples hardened, so hard they ached. She moaned inwardly at the fire which burned in her loins.

Her fingers trembling, she loosed the drawstring of her breeches, wriggled her generous hips as she pulled them down to her ankles. The knights, her former guards, were perfectly silent; but she was certain they could not resist gaping at her creamy nakedness, her tiny waist flaring into her magnificent buttocks. The fire in her loins burned hotter.

She stepped out of the bunched trousers on the ground, stood naked before the Hist Broodmaster. She had wanted to show one last shred of noble pride, standing erect with shoulders back and chin high, but she feared that such a display would provoke her Hist master. Instead she stood with head bowed, trembling, wringing her hands.

The Hist beckoned her forward and she approached the carriage with unsteady gait. Her nostrils were assaulted by the acrid odor of urine as she passed the ponygirls.

She sank to her knees, head still bowed. The Broodmaster spoke.

"The new slut will offer her teats to her glorious Master," instructed Glisten.

Rhialla, unthinking, placed her hands under her breasts and lifted their meager weight upward, toward her Master. The Hist bent toward her, its sinuous body curving down. Rhialla felt its tongue flickering against her face, tickling her cheeks and lips. On impulse she opened her mouth slightly, and her Master's tongue slipped inside. It was rough and dry, thicker than she had anticipated. She sucked it tentatively as the forked end stroked the roof of her mouth.

She indulged an indecorous thought about that tongue flickering deep in her loins, and could not contain a moan of delight and consternation. Already she was acting the slut for her Master, embracing that lascivious nature which she had always denied existed! Her head spun vertiginously, her loins grew wet.

To her dismay, her Master withdrew his tongue, spoke sharply to the slaves Glisten and Thistle.

"Yes, Master!" cried Glisten. "Instantly, Master!"

Thistle, who had been pleasuring the Hist guard with her severely undersized mouth, echoed Glisten's acknowledgement and rushed forward. Together the two sluts crawled on hands and knees toward the Human knights. They evinced even greater reticence than had Rhialla when she approached the Broodmaster.

"Hold!" said Sir Arrack, and both sluts immediately froze. "Before your foul demand is consummated, Broodmaster, you must release the Princess Brianna into my custody."

The Broodmaster hissed commands to one of the guards, who unlatched the Princess's cage. Brianna shrank from the Hist, whimpering, as it reached for her; it grasped a clawful of hair and dragged her moaning from the cage, threw her to the ground.

"Princess Brianna!" bellowed Sir Arrack, standing in his stirrups. "You are rescued, Princess!"

Hearing his voice, Brianna looked frantically about, and noticed for the first time the knights on horseback thirty feet away. She lurched to her feet and stumbled toward them, babbling incoherently of her capture and incarceration. She sprinted past Rhialla, taking no note of her sister, nor of Glisten and Thistle.

"Sir Arrack!" Brianna sobbed, wrapping the knight's armored leg in a fervent hug. "I knew you would save me, I knew it!"

"Clothe yourself, Princess," said Sir Arrack gently. "There are garments there, by your feet."

"Of course," she murmured, recalling her nakedness. She clothed herself hurriedly, but in such a state of distraction that several minutes passed before she had donned Rhialla's garments and mounted her horse.

"Take me away from here, Sir Arrack," she said weakly, gripping the reins.

"I will, Princess," Sir Arrack assured her. "But first we have one more task to perform." He looked at his knights, said distastefully, "Let us have done with those two filthy holes and be on our way from here."

Glisten and Thistle could not have been more eager to be put to use. They swiftly positioned themselves in readiness for the knights, lying on their bellies with their legs slightly apart, buttocks upturned sharply. Even Rhialla, virgin that she was, knew that this was not the ideal pose for intercourse; but Glisten and Thistle clearly lacked any previous experience copulating with human males, and were presenting themselves as they would to their Hist masters.

The thought was shocking to Rhialla. She imagined one of the Hist lowering itself like a lizard onto all fours atop one of the slavegirls, its bulk crushing her against the ground as its monstrous organ filled her. That odious image was frightfully arousing, and the heat which had been smouldering in Rhialla's loins suddenly blazed with a searing intensity. She moaned, her mind seething, her body shuddering. Seeking release, she sank two fingers into her torrid hole, found it willing and receptive, fairly drooling with lust.

She had previously touched herself down there on more than one occasion, but those had been timid, experimental probings, which had brought her more shame than pleasure. Now she was an avowed slut, a slave to the Hist, no longer bound by shame or decency; she abandoned herself to lubricious iniquity with the fervor of a neophyte. The pleasure of it swelled precipitously within her, threatening to shatter her when it finally burst. She groaned deeply.

Sir Arrack, meanwhile, had stepped down from his charger and was standing over Glisten's body. He had removed his codpiece, and his pale cock protruded from the mass of black hairs at his crotch. Glisten gazed up at him over her shoulder, panting with excitement.

"If I am to couple with a beast, then we may as well do it like dogs," muttered Sir Arrack. He bent and seized the girl by the hair, shaking her head fiercely as he lifted her. "Get your hands and knees under you, swine!" he ordered.

Glisten gasped and squirmed, clearly relishing the savage treatment. She obeyed Sir Arrack's instruction, and the knight shoved himself inside her without delay. He fucked the slavegirl ruttishly, his thighs hammering against her buttocks. She groaned with joy, thrusting herself backward in an attempt to maximize his penetration. After little more than a minute Sir Arrack stiffened, clutching Glisten's buttocks and shuddering as he spent himself. Glisten looked about in bewilderment, brow furrowed, as the knight stood up and stepped back.

Two other knights had now dismounted, and one of them took Sir Arrack's place at Glisten's quim; the other one took Thistle. Both men finished in under two minutes. The two sluts were left whimpering with frustration, obviously accustomed to far more rigorous and prolonged use by their Hist masters.

Within five minutes all six men had loosed their spunk, three in each girl. Glisten and Thistle were writhing on their bellies, moaning. Rhialla, watching it all, had not stopped masturbating. She groaned in her desperation to unleash the intolerable pressure which had mounted steadily under the impetus of her finger strokes.

Her Master began hissing, insistent commands which she knew instinctively she would do well to obey. She saw that Glisten and Thistle were crawling to the Master, answering his summons, but Rhialla could not take her hand away from her gluttonous cunt; her body was shaking uncontrollably, her orgasm imminent -- a few seconds, a few strokes...

The Broodmaster's lash cracked, and she felt its blistering kiss across her buttocks. Instantly she climaxed, screaming with pain and release, her body shuddering helplessly.

Glisten and Thistle had prostrated themselves beside their Master's carriage; Rhialla scrambled to join them, urged on by an even harder blow from the lash. She was still cumming, her mind reeling in fear of antagonizing the Master.

Rhialla squeezed between Glisten and Thistle, her shoulders and hips pressed against theirs. She put her face to the ground, hands clasped behind her back. Her climax was subsiding, but the thundering waves of pleasure still resonated through her body, radiating down her limbs. She was weak and breathless.

She panted as she waited, her heart swelling with joy. When her Master spoke again, the sibilant speech did not seem so sinister, but insinuated itself almost seductively in her mind. She did not understand the words, but she knew they were being addressed to her.

Glisten translated, her voice muffled by the ground against which her lips rested. "Master announces that His newest slut will hereafter be called 'Princess'."

A new name, to cut her off irrevocably from her past and yet always serve as a reminder of it. She responded timidly. "Yes, Master."

The Broodmaster hissed at her in angry reproof.

"Master commands His slut to show more ardor," said Glisten. Her tone was sharper now; she was no longer addressing a Human woman, but merely another Hist-thrall slut.

"Yes, Master!" cried Princess fervently. Her throat constricted as she spoke, and her loins flared anew with unexpected arousal. Her Master brought his lash down sharply across her naked shoulders, and she squealed at the searing pain. "At once, Master!" she gasped. "Princess obeys!"

She flinched as her Master's whip cracked again, but this time it merely fell against one of his ponygirls' buttocks. The chariot lurched forward, turned back toward the Hist lands. The three sluts rose as one and trotted dutifully alongside their Master; never once did Princess look back at the small party of Humans returning to their bleak mountain enclave.