Princess (19 page)

Iriel rolled her legs high, trapping Yi's head to her sex. Yi's licking grew more urgent. Iriel stuck fingers into now wet holes and began to lick at Yi's bump, both girls rapt in each other, lapping and probing, ever more urgent, ever ruder. Yi's cunt went tight as she started to come, her anus too. Iriel stuck her fingers in as deep as they would go, her tongue flicking at speed, concentrating on her friend but with her own pleasure rising towards a climax that hit her even as Yi's started to fade.

Clamping Yi's head tight to her cunt, Iriel pulled her fingers out and stuck them in her mouth, sucking her lover's taste down as she squirmed in orgasm, her holes pulsing, her back arched tight. It was long and beautiful, and at the very peak she pushed her tongue up into Yi's bottom ring, as deep as it would go, revelling in the intimacy and impropriety of the act to bring her ecstasy higher still.

They broke, giggling as Cianna's voice sounded from the darkness, calling them both sluts. Iriel made to answer, intent on inviting Cianna to come and sit on her face, only to be told to go to sleep by Aeisla. She lay back, smiling happily as Yi once more cuddled into her shoulder, yet still ripe for mischief.

Briefly she considered leaving the tent and offering to suck the dwarven guard's cock. They tasted strange, somewhat reminiscent of nymph and the scent of goblin, invariably bringing her to a fine peak of arousal. Yet while keen enough usually, she also knew that they could be guaranteed not to accept any offers while on duty. Going further afield was also out of the question, with strict orders not to make themselves known to the general Oretean soldiery. The dwarves would neither fuck her nor let her past.

Her fingers went to her tuppenny, just to stroke her hair and the groove between her sex lips, soothing herself. Before long she was half asleep, her mind drifting in an out of dreams, of Mistress Loida's shop in Aegerion, of being whipped on the roof of the House of Cunt, of kneeling in the slave coffle with a cock up her bottom…

A sharp noise brought her awake, a thud, somewhere far off in the night. Another followed, a crash, screams in the distance. She sat up, the other girls moving around her. Aeisla's voice came, edged with fear.

‘Bombards.'

‘On the southern shore,' the dwarf on guard answered, too distant to warrant concern. Now if that were dwarven artillery, then…'

He broke off with a curse as yells rang out, nearby, from towards the desert, then the clang of steel, the roar of a bombard, another, a horrible whistling noise, a thump, more screams, curses, men's voices calling orders. Iriel leapt up, snatching for her dress even as the dwarf screamed for them to lie down. A roar, a whistle, and the tent was snatched away from above them as if by a giant hand, to leave them in the bright moonlight, flat to the ground in raw fear, snatching at the cushions to cover themselves at Aeisla's order.

Again came the roar of the bombards and the whistle of balls, each ending in a dull thud. Sand showered them, once, then again, closer still, to leave Iriel praying hard to each and every ancestor as she clawed at the desert sand. Another whistle, another thud, more sand pattering down on cushions above her and Iriel wet herself, urine squirting out between her thighs. Another roar, and she was writhing in her growing puddle, screaming as the shot shrieked above them, to thump into the sand ahead of them.

It stopped. She lay, the piddle still trickling from her cunt, her teeth bit into her lip, waiting for the next. Nothing came, only the more distant clash of metal, yells and screams, but drawing closer. Trembling hard, she lay still under the cushions, indifferent to the damp sand beneath her belly and legs. Finally Aeisla spoke.

‘It is done. Now the men come.'

Iriel nodded, weak with fear but struggling to find her courage. All around was chaos. Tents showed black against red fire on the south bank, some burning, knots of men struggling among them. On the Phaetes itself were boats, more fire reflected red on the water. Nearer, pits showed as shadows in the sand among a rubble of tents, bodies and gear, with the survivors already running towards the fortifications. The dwarf was nowhere to be seen, but his axe lay on the ground. Aeisla bent to pick it up and made to speak, only for the roar of bombards to drown her words.

Even before the rumble died away Iriel had thrown herself down into a pit. The shot whistled over, to end with a great splash in the river, then another, and more, roar after roar, whistles and thuds, near and far, to leave her clutching her ears in pain, terror also, her feet kicking, what remained in her bladder erupting from her cunt in little spurts. At last the bombards stopped, and when she opened her eyes it was to find herself alone. She stayed down, sure it would begin again and not knowing where to go or what to do, shaking with fear.

Somewhere off in the night she heard Aeisla's voice, calling out. She forced herself up, struggling to gain strength in prayer, to find a reeking smoke drifting in across the desert, lit red and grey moonlight and fire. A half-toppled tent stood nearby, one pole broken. She made for it, calling out to Aeisla even as the other girls responded, Cianna and Yi, Kaissia, and Iriel sighed in relief to know that all five lived. A nest of spears had fallen beside the tent and she snatched one up, clutching the shaft as she padded towards Aeisla, who called again, softly, then in anger.

Iriel saw the line of men advancing from the smoke at the same instance, black figures running softly on the sand. Metal clashed, a man screamed and Iriel braced, too close to run, praying to her father and yelling defiance as the line closed on her. Her spear thrust out, to clang on armour as flame illuminated the man's face, red on brown skin and dull metal. He stabbed in. Iriel parried and darted back as his companions closed to either side, her spear tip clanging on armour as she swept it wide. She thrust again even as she danced clear of a sword stroke, wild, senseless elation rising in her head, screaming in defiance, expecting every moment to die, the clash of cups and yells of encouragement loud in her ears, her heel catching in the folds of the tent.

She went down, backwards, grinning brown faces showing in the flickering light as the men closed on her, her spear knocked aside even as she thrust up, swords falling, hands gripping her legs, her arms, one already between her legs. She was spread, still fighting, kicking one man free only for two more to take her leg. She was mounted, the man between her legs climbing on, the metal strips of his armour scratching her as he rubbed his cock on her tuppenny. She was fucked, his cock driven home the moment it was hard enough, deep up her hole, until his balls met her twitching buttocks, slapping on them as he began to pump.

Iriel cried out as her cunt filled, still fighting, but helpless, two men to each limb, more beyond, pinned and penetrated, her breasts starting to jiggle as the rhythm of the fucking picked up, her fingers clutching in rage and frustration and a burning, all consuming arousal. They pushed her legs up, spreading her further onto the man's cock as others ducked low, to paw her breasts, groping hard, one nipple taken into a mouth and sucked stiff in an instant. At that she broke, with a last faint cry of shame as she let her body go limp, surrendered to her ravishment.

The man in her cunt chuckled, sensing the change in her body. A leg was swung over her head, a large, hairy scrotum was settled onto her mouth, then in it as she opened up, to suck on his balls as her body shook to the cock thrusts. Another called out, a leader, demanding that the man inside her hurry up. The answer was a dozen furious shoves and an explosion of jism deep in Iriel's cunt.

No sooner was he out than the leader was in, pumping deep up her, his cock squelching in his companion's jism, grunting and cursing. The man with his balls in her mouth had begun to masturbate, jerking on his cock and rubbing his anus in her face as she sucked. He came, hot sperm spattering her breasts and immediately rubbed in by the groping hands. Another replaced him, cock in her mouth, her head held by the hair and twisted into his crotch.

She sucked, eager and wanton, her body receptive, and as her cunt filled for the second time and the leader withdrew, she groaned in disappointment. Still they held her, legs rolled high, cunt spread to the night, until once again she was filled with cock. One came over her breasts, grunting in glee as he sprayed her with jism, and the man in her mouth, pulling it free to soil her face and hair.

More moved in, yet another cock stuffed into her mouth, with men all around her demanding their turn, laughing, complaining of having to fuck in each other's jism, boasting of what they were going to do with her. Another leader arrived, shouting, not for the fucking to stop, but for the use of her anal passage. She was rolled, mounted onto a man beneath, a new cock stuck into her mouth as the leader squatted onto her bottom, his cock already hard as he pressed it to the slimy opening between her cheeks.

She pushed out, letting her ring relax to lessen the pain as she was forced, the leader's fat cock head jammed in. Her hole was wet with jism and juice and gave easily, her rectum accommodating the thick penis in three hard shoves, each making her swallow hard on the cock she was sucking. A cheer went up to see her with a cock in very hole and they began to fuck to a rhythm, Iriel's mouth, cunt and anus working together as the man beneath her sucked and licked at her breasts while two others jerked their cocks in her hair.

A man began to whip her, smacking a thick leather belt down across her upturned buttocks as she was buggered, one smack to each thrust of the cock in her hole. The one in her cunt began to bite at her nipples, and to pump faster. One spunked in her hair, the pushing in her bottom hole grew harder, deeper, faster, also the whipping. She was pushed down, the groove of her tuppenny spread over the coarse tangle of pubic hair, rubbing it directly onto her bump.

Instantly her body had begun to rise towards climax, only for it to break as the man in her mouth came down her throat, to hold his cock well it, forcing her to swallow and leaving her gagging with a froth of sperm bubbles at both nostrils. He pulled clear, another replaced him and she was sucking again, still with her clit rubbing, cunt and anus pulling in and out, buttocks burning beneath the whip, nipples painfully hard, all of it going into contraction, her entire body in spasm as she started to come.

Sperm exploded into her rectum, the man's cock jammed to the hilt, her pulsing anus milking him into her bowels. Another came in her hair, the whipping rose to a mad crescendo of agonising strokes to bottom and back, and at the very highest peak of her ecstasy the men in her mouth and cunt came simultaneously, to flood her with sperm even as the man up her bottom pulled free, his jism spurting from her anus as it closed.

Iriel lay sideways on the hard wooden floor of the wagon, her anal ring moving gently in and out on the cock of perhaps the thirtieth man to bugger her. More had been up her tuppenny, in her mouth, between her breasts, along the crease of her bottom, in her armpits, her hair, even against the soles of her feet. There had been foot soldiers, cavalry, bombardiers, wagoners, even cooks, as the victorious Vendjomois had revelled in the sack of the Erijome forts.

She had seen the sun rise on her knees, with an obese pastry cook in her mouth and a storekeeper up her tuppenny from behind. By then she had been raw with fucking and faint from use, barely conscious, yet still capable of coming as the storeman fiddled with her bump to make her hole close on his penis. She had barely taken in the smoke hazed ruin of the Oretean encampment, and had passed out as soon as she'd come, only to wake up in the wagon, naked, trussed up like a chicken for market and with yet another cock up her bottom.

The man in her anus came with a sigh, pulled out and went back to his work of harnessing the camels. She lay still, the sperm pulsing and dribbling from her anus to trickle down over her bare bottom cheek and into the pool of mixed fluids in which she lay. Very slowly her mind cleared to the aches of her body, her sore holes, her stiff jaw, her smarting nipples, the bruises on her breasts, bottom, and elsewhere. A sense of defeat followed, and fear for her friends, vying for the discomfort of her body until suddenly it was all too much and she was violently sick.

She was still coughing and spitting when the wagoner appeared again. He gave her a single, disgusted glance and vanished, only to return a moment later with a bucket of river water, which he threw over her, leaving her spluttering, but glad of the cool water with the sun's heat already rising. A second bucket followed, and a third, before he climbed into the wagon, calling for a colleague to set up the awning as he rolled Iriel out of his way.

With her body turned she could see the other way, up a long row of wagons around which men worked, tending to the huge double humped draft camels, putting up awnings, greasing axles and loading the spoils of the battle, including girls. Two wagons away a hank of brilliant red hair hung down from the back, and Iriel's heart jumped at the realisation that it had to be Aeisla or Cianna, unless for some reason the Vendjomois sheared the heads of their victims. Then the hair began to move, rhythmic shivers running through it, suggesting the girl was being fucked and therefore had to be alive.

Relief flooded through her, then more strongly still as she saw a group of Vendjomois infantry approaching. Three of their number had girls slung over their shoulders, bottoms to the fore, but with the pale skin and long legs of Aeg unmistakable on two, while the third was a tiny Oretean girl. As they drew closer to the wagons she made out blonde hair and brown, Kaissia and Yi, both alive and still kicking despite having their wrists and ankles bound. Both were dumped into a wagon five along from Iriel's. The soldiers exchanged what was a clearly a lewd joke with the wagoners and left.

Iriel scanned the scene for Aeisla, full of fear and uncertainty, but there was no sign of her. More girls were brought, mainly Oreteans, with some Vendjomois, these last looking smug and relieved, yet still walking with the odd waddling limp that showed they had been fucked as well as any others. Still Iriel hoped, even when a group of senior Oreteans appeared with a charta manifest, moving slowly down the wagons to list the contents of each. Presently they reached her own wagon, the last before the river's edge, to peer within as the wagoner stepped forward with a salute.