“You need not keep your secret from me, my dear Astrid. I know what thoughts drive you, deep down. You are a woman, after all, beneath all of that warrior’s bravado. Why run from your true nature? Why continue to struggle against what you are?”
Astrid shook her head, biting down on the thick ring that had been wedged between her teeth and secured there with a leather strap around her head. The heavy chains around her wrists and ankles shook as she fought to free herself from the stout wooden pillory that held her neck and arms, her body bent parallel with the floor of the dark dungeon, legs spread wide, the chains between her ankles secured to a stout ring on the floor.
The Imperator’s clawed fingers slid along her naked ass, tracing the many stinging marks from his whip that adorned her flesh. Candlelight flickered behind her, and then she felt a new, stinging pain on the flesh of her backside and jerked at her stout bonds again, refusing to cry out. The hot, scalding sensation mingled with the lingering pain of the whip, hot like the desert sun as it seared her, but only for a handful of moments before the wax cooled and hardened.
“You are mine, whether you accept it now or not, Astrid Ragna Vennerod,” said the smooth, intoxicating voice of the Imperator as more wax spilled down her backside. “Perhaps you feel that you are alone in your plight? I assure you, that is not the case, for you have sister slaves to rely upon, if you but accept them. They can ease your burden, share your pain.”
Astrid was suddenly aware of a new sensation, hot and wet between her legs. She groaned despite swearing that she wouldn’t make a sound during this punishment, as a warm tongue probed her womanhood.
“Mmmm, like candy,” said Bekksie from between Astrid’s legs.
Hands were suddenly upon Astrid’s hanging breasts, squeezing the flesh, teasing her pierced nipples. She pressed Astrid’s nipples together, her tongue flicking them with her tongue. “Mmmm, one could make many wonderful potions with your milk,” said Galvaera.
Appearing from the darkness in front of her then, Astrid’s eyes found Samira, the tattoos of the strange symbols of her stranger religion darker upon her already dark flesh, the demon mark upon her public mound glowing a bright pink. Between her legs flopped a large, hard cock, its head glistening. “Our master’s gifts are many, slave sister. We are honored to be of his harem, and soon you will learn this lesson. Perhaps it will be now, perhaps later, but you will learn. Partake of master’s generosity!”
Samira hand gripped Astrid’s hair and tightened, held her head steady, the huge manhood pushing toward her helplessly wide lips. “Submit!” Samira said, plunging her cock forward.
“No!” Astrid shouted, flopping around, feeling hard stone beneath her.
“Ah, it finally awakens,” said the elf sorceress in her smug, superior way. “And here I’d hoped we could leave it behind.”
Astrid shook her head, the vestiges of her dream scattering to the desert winds, though she realized her breasts ached, her nipples ached more, and she was wet from more than sweat between her legs. She glared over at the elf, who crouched near the fire. The goblin was there too, warming a small pot on the flames, each of them looking well rested. It was still dark, and refreshingly cool. Where was the kerryn?
Astrid felt something on her shoulder, then sensed someone beside her. She turned, saw Samira crouched there, one hand near Astrid’s shoulder. Astrid jerked away, then noticed that the kerryn held a black scorpion in her palm, a red trio of red dots upon the top of its carapace, its stinger embedded in the flesh of her hand.
“A deadly venom these carry, possibly killing in a matter of minutes, less perhaps if it were to sting one in the neck,” Samira said, sounding not the least bit panicked, her amber eyes glittering in the firelight. “You are fortunate, warrior. Mafdet’s blessing is upon us.”
The cat-priestess flashed her fangs, and crushed the scorpion in her hand, tossing the remains into the darkness. She stood then, unworried about the sting she’d just received in her hand, despite the warning she’d given about the potent venom. Astrid noted that she was already dressed for travel. “Eat quickly and drink, make sure all waterskins are filled. We must set out within the hour. And warrior, do not wear your armor. You must adapt to the desert sooner, not later.”
Astrid glared at the priestess. “I’ll do as I wish!” she snapped, throwing off her bedroll. “I’ll not be left unprotected in this savage place.” She hastily pulled the heavy steel breastplate around her and began strapping it into place.
“It is to your detriment,” Samira said, sitting a small clay cup next to her before returning to the fire.
Astrid said nothing, only answered in grunts, as they had a quick meal, the strange-tasting tea the goblin had brewed still not to her liking, the dried meat and cheese more like what she was used to. All too soon, they had refilled their water and were on the move again, the kerryn in the lead as scout, with she and the lazy goblin taking up the rear with the cart. The coolness of night in the desert didn’t last long, the first vestiges of sun upon the horizon bringing the unbearable heat with it.
She remained troubled by her dreams, only recalling flashes now, but knowing that the ache in her nipples and the heat between her legs was not natural. The foul sorcery that was tattooed upon her flesh from that demon who dared to call himself her master. She would slip his leash, and she would see him dead, no matter how much he filled her head with his depraved sexual fantasies!
“You should cover your head; sun’s going to be up soon, and it’s going to get hot again,” said the goblin from behind her.
“Silence, pest!” Astrid snapped, concentrating on driving the cart and guiding the mules.
“Fine, it’s your funeral. Maybe I’ll enjoy some of your baked flesh when its cooked in that oven you’re wearing,” Bekksie said, disappearing behind the wine casks again.
All too soon, the blazing sun was overhead, the bland, brown and tan landscape shimmering in the early morning heat. Astrid, already feeling her scalp tingling, reluctantly pulled on the headscarf, managed to arrange it easier than the previous day, and without the damned goblin’s help. Why did people chose to live in a place like this? How did they live in a place like this? This had to be the closest place to the Hells in the world.
Shifting on the seat, Astrid then took hold of her breastplate and shifted it, feeling her still-hard nipples pressing against her clothes and the inner layer of padding. Those damn rings were the problem, but the last time she’d tried to remove them, she’d gotten a painful shock, and had been whipped by one of the Imperator’s mistresses. Those had to go first before she could see her revenge carried out, but how? The useless sorceress said she didn’t know how to remove the magic that held them there.
Was she lying? The dream version of her had certainly been very eager to serve the Imperator…
The hours passed slowly and miserably, the cart trundling along over what passed for a roadway, some harder-packed sand for the most part, some stone. Once more, Astrid was soon covered in sweat, her breastplate hot to the touch, yet she stubbornly refused to give in. None of them would have the pleasure of seeing her proven wrong!
Sometime in the mid-morning, in the distance, Astrid saw Samira and Galvaera speaking atop those foul-smelling camels they rode. They actually conversed long enough for the cart to nearly catch up with them before the kerryn rode off again at high speed. When Astrid brought the mules to a stop near the elf, she saw the anger on the elf’s face. “Something wrong?”
“Perhaps, perhaps not,” said the sorceress in that cryptic way she had. “She thinks we may be watched from somewhere ahead, but I think someone is following behind us.”
“You know, I thought I saw a glint back there a couple hours ago,” Bekksie said, poking her head out from beneath the tarp. “It was mixed in with the shimmer, so I wasn’t sure.”
“Be alert,” Galvaera said, turning her gaze ahead. “The road ahead takes us through a ruin according to the priestess, a good place for an ambush.”
“Why don’t we just go around it, then? That way looks smooth and easy,” said Astrid, waving her arm to their left.
Galvaerae laughed, her condescending tone rankling Astrid and getting on one of her few remaining nerves. “Those sands are too loose to traverse. You might as well try to take that cart through quicksand! Even a child could tell that.” With that, the elf turned her camel and swatted the beast with her crop, moving quickly ahead.
“Damn her anyway,” snarled Astrid, slapping the reins to get the mules moving. “Curse this gods-forsaken place!” she spat, realized her mouth was dry, and took a swig from her waterskin, which was already half empty.
* * *
“I think I saw another glint of metal on the horizon behind us,” Bekksie said suddenly. “No shimmer this time, something reflected the sun, pretty sure.”
Astrid jerked to alertness, though it only last a few moments before she again slumped forward, as if the sun were physically pressing down upon her and trying to crush her with its heat. She stared forward, panting, baking in her juices, her eyes struggling to make out anything in the glare of the midday heat. The mules plodded steadily forward as they topped the rise, and in the distance, through the wavering heat, amidst the sand-blasted ruins of an ancient city, she thought she saw the kerryn atop her camel, waiting beside the legs of a massive statue that had disappeared above the waist, and, somewhat closer, the elf, plodding steadily forward.
“I just hope they’re as miserable as I am,” Astrid muttered, not even caring about the prospect of someone tailing them in that moment.
“You really should take that armor off; you’re going to bake yourself,” said the goblin.
Astrid grumbled wordlessly, shook her head stubbornly, and slapped the reins, urging the mules to move faster. Of course, they didn’t listen, just kept plodding ahead at their own pace. At least they hadn’t been stubborn enough to stop outright during the trip.
Had the priestess mentioned water in the ruined city? Astrid couldn’t remember for sure. Surely they were due for a break, and surely there was somewhere that had shade nearby; some of the buildings, even collapsed as they were, stood tall enough to offer some respite from the sun.
Astrid pulled up the nearly empty waterskin, took another draw from it. She adjusted the headscarf and squinted against the brightness. She blinked a few times, thinking she’d seen movement amongst the rubble to either side of the roadway, but in the next moment couldn’t tell from the heat shimmer. The kerryn still sat waiting, so it was probably nothing, just Astrid’s eyes playing tricks on her.
As the mules brought them within the collapsed wall at the edge of the ruins, Astrid heard the howl of wind ahead, blowing through the broken buildings. Sand rose and swirled directly ahead along their path. She blinked, looking to the skies, but saw no clouds that would have indicated a storm.
“What is-” she started, just as veiled shapes suddenly appeared as if from the sands themselves, two snatching the bridles on the mules, another landing on the seat beside her, reaching for the reins.
Even with the oppressive heat, Astrid’s warrior blood surged with the sudden threat.
She grabbed at the man beside her, moving faster than he had anticipated, and closed her meaty hand around his throat. In the next moment she flung him off the cart with a roar, her newly freed hand grabbing up her battle axe from just behind the seat. Astrid leaped from the seat toward the veiled man to her left, shouting to the god of battle. She heard him utter something in an unfamiliar tongue, likely a curse from the tone, as he released the bridle and fell backward, her axe splitting the ground between his legs.
Ahead, amidst the sandstorm, lightning crackled, and low thunder rumbled.
Astrid pulled her axe from the earth and rushed forward, roaring as she brought it up, then down again. The cloaked and veiled man rolled aside a heartbeat before the heavy blade would have cleaved him in two. In the next moment Astrid saw the flash of steel as he drew a curved sword from within his loose robes. She heard a pained cry of another man behind her, heard the goblin spitting something in her crude tongue, and promptly ignored the pest.
Snarling, Astrid strode forward as the man rolled to his feet, his blade flashing in the sun, its metal clanging against the wide swipe of her axe. His blade was swept aside easily by her greater strength, and she quickly pulled back, swung the axe in another wide arc.
The veiled figure was already rolling away, narrowly evading her swing, his curved blade whirling.
“Stand still and fight, damn you!” Astrid shouted.
“What good a weapon like that if you can’t hit anything with it?” said the man, dancing around a series of quicker swings, using his blade to deflect the last one, laughing as if he were having the time of his life.
Astrid swung her axe again, a quick swipe, but just as she thought she was set to land a blow, metal rang against metal and she was knocked forward, a sword blade having met the rear half of her breastplate. She corrected her footing and turned, drove the haft of the axe backward. The second veiled assailant laughed as he he hopped backward, effortlessly dodging her strike.
Cursing these cowardly desert rats, Astrid whirled her axe around her in a sweeping circle, forcing both of her attackers to move away. She quickly stepped to the side, bringing both of them around to her front. She huffed and shook her head to dislodge some sweat, narrowing her eyes against the sun’s glare.
She lunged toward the man to her left, started to swing, then pulled back at the last moment, redirecting her strike toward the man on the right. He raised his blade and parried, though it was a rough defense, the force of her blow causing him to stagger backward and nearly lose the grip on his blade. A wild smile on her lips, Astrid moved in for the kill, bringing her axe down before he could recover himself.
Another sword struck her breastplate, knocking her aside, and sent her axe head into the sand. Though the strike of the blade against her armor didn’t hurt, she felt it, and Astrid whirled, leading with her axe, a third assailant rolling out of the way. Another sword blow rang out against her armor, made her stagger right into another sword, which clanged off the curved metal around her breasts.
She swung wildly, hoping to hit something, anything, as the trio of men danced around her, laughing as they struck at her armor, each metallic clang knocking her around without harming more than her pride.
“Face me like men! Bastards!” Astrid shouted, getting a firm strike into her back, then another into her side, and a third on her stomach, knocking her back and forth.
“This is fun, brothers! She fights as a clumsy child!” one of them said.
“Perhaps she’s too young to be away from her mother; she doesn’t know how to fight!” said another.
“Women should know their place!” said the third.
Astrid dove at the first one that came into her line of sight, swinging her axe behind her, hoping to tackle the man to the ground, bloodlust raging inside of her at the mockery. Reacting faster than she could match, he leaped over her, planted a foot firmly against her back, and pushed off, diving behind her and causing her to stumble forward, right into a pile of sand. She heard them laughing, the sound of the goblin shouting something mixed in underneath.
Snarling, Astrid rolled and shook sand from her head as she got back to her feet, bringing her heavy axe up in front of her.
She would have blood this day!
The men spread out. Astrid roared and charged, raising her axe high at the one in the middle.
She saw quick flashes of movement in her peripheral vision. Suddenly there were ropes tightening around her forearms and left leg. Astrid saw weights dangling from her arms as her axe came down, but the men to either side of her pulled at the ropes, jerked her off balance. Her forearms came together and her grip on the axe became awkward as she fought to keep her footing. The two men pulled again, and in the next moment Astrid was face-down in the sand.
Before she could respond, the man she’d been trying to kill just then was on top of her, grabbing at her legs. She kicked and tried to roll, but the other two were on top of her a moment later, one of them kicking her hands, dislodging the axe, then kicked it aside. Astrid tried to swing her arms at one of them, but they were too quick, their combined strength overwhelming her.
Shouting curses and wordless rage, Astrid struggled, however uselessly, as the men rapidly bound her, looping more ropes around her ankles and lower legs. Two men grabbed at her flailing arms as they loosened the weighted rope, then hauled them behind her, quickly rebinding them more tightly at the wrists, then above her elbows, drawing them painfully close together. The speed at which they worked told her they had prior experience in such capture.
Moments later, the man atop her stood, and Astrid’s bound wrists were pulled toward her bound legs, more ropes secured to bind them together, drawing her wrists toward her ankles.
“This one will be fun tonight, brothers!” said one of them, and they laughed as she snarled and shook, trying and failing to overcome her bindings. One of them snatched her braid and quickly did something with it that she couldn’t see. She opened her mouth to curse at the man when another stuffed a rag inside of it, then worked leather thongs around her head and between her lips to hold it in place. Her muffled curses ended in a pained yelp when the man fiddling with her braid pulled sharply at it, forcing her head backward.
When the three had finished and stood, Astrid was left in a strict hog tie, her breastplate biting into her arms, her braid tied off at her ankles, forcing her head back, growing quickly painful if she tried to lower it. The rag in her mouth tasted of sweat and man-stink, and though she tried, thanks to the thongs wrapped around her head several times, it wasn’t going anywhere.
As she lay upon the hot sand, Astrid noticed that the whirlwind around the sorceress had ended, and wondered if the elf had escaped and left them to their fate or had been killed. Near the wagon, the goblin’s shouts and cries were muffled now. She saw one man working to restrain her, blood staining one sleeve.
Astrid’s face heated with new shame, having failed to draw blood from a single one of her attackers, while the goblin had managed to at least wound one.
The goblin’s mouth had been fitted with what looked like a thick wooden bit between her teeth, tied off behind her head. In short order, Bekksie was bound more intricately than Astrid had been, the crimson-haired goblin’s wrists crossed and tied behind her upper back, secured to her slave collar. Ropes wound around her ankles and thick thighs, another wrapping securing her ankles to said thighs. With her face on the ground, the bandit worked thinner leather thongs around her fingers, tying them together in pairs, then securing the ends into a pair of the goblin’s four pigtails, making it practically impossible for her to use her nimble fingers.
The men shouted, making motions to one another. One quickly hopped on the cart, and more appeared around them. Three of them roughly picked Astrid up off the ground, her struggles and muffled curses doing little to dissuade them. They half dragged her across the sand toward the cart, then heaved her into the back of it, in front of the wine casks.
Astrid heard Bekksie make a short, pained yowl. A few moments later, the bandits tossed a sack into the back of the cart beside Astrid. The sack moved, though, and it took the warrior a moment to realize that it was actually the goblin, her head poking out of the top of the sack, which had been tied off around her neck. She gnawed at the gag, her big ears flopping as she shook her head, but ultimately failed to free herself.
The cart shook and started forward at the sound of leather on mule-flesh, bouncing down the harder roadway. Within a few minutes, Astrid saw more men and camels falling into line behind them. Atop one camel sat the cat-woman Samira, bound tightly in ropes around her upper body, arms behind her, her legs tied at the ankles, the ropes leading beneath the camel. A blindfold had been fitted over her eyes, and her mouth was stuffed fuller than Astrid’s. They must have gotten the jump on her while she’d been scouting ahead of them, used her to bait them in.
Then Astrid caught sight of the elf sorceress, also tied to her camel. Unlike the cat-woman, she was thrown over the saddle face-down. Her hands were wrapped in what looked like torn strips of her robes, keeping them balled into fists, wrists crossed and bound tightly with rope, the other end leading beneath the camel to her bound ankles, with more ropes wrapping around her body and tied off at several points on the saddle. She made muffled grunts and shook her head repeatedly, trying to dislodge the sack that had been tied off around it, blocking her vision completely.
As the scorching sun beat down on them, Astrid groaned, feeling exhausted as she sagged into her bonds, the cart bouncing along at a steady pace, feeling faster than she’d managed with the mules. Humiliation didn’t begin to describe what she felt at her performance, though her anger did flare for a few moments when she saw one of the veiled men hefting her axe and speaking to one of his compatriots, displaying it as some kind of trophy. The sun proved hotter, though, and she resigned herself to suffer in silence as they bounced along, her hands quickly growing numb. Even the goblin beside her ceased struggling after a time, her ears drooping.
What were these desert bandits going to do with them?
* * * * *
This story features the following themes from this year’s Kinktober list.
Tangle/Trap
Stretch/Grope
Sadistic/Imaginary
Strip/Encase
Squeeze/Secret
Quicksand/Harem
Clean/Dirty
Dramatic/Punish
Balance/Hood
Wax/Mummification
Magic/Fantasy
Natural/Camouflage
Hostage/Doll
Vintage/Ancient
Revenge/Mischief
Candy/Potion
This story contains the adventuring party experiencing: Multiple males dominating multiple females, bondage, capture, ropes, leather, heavy BDSM, suspension, being bound together, bit gags, ring gags, stuff gags, whipping, nipple rings, nose rings, clit rings, slave collars, orcs, kerryns (catgirls), goblins, humans, elves, mazoku (tieflings), swords & sorcery, pulp adventure, blood, sacrifice, bound sex, orgy, group sex, footjobs, handjobs, blowjobs, vaginal sex, anal sex and maybe more I’ve forgotten to include here.
This is a story written as a call back to the old pulp style sword & sorcery adventurers, so some themes are dark and a bit graphic, but that’s kind of the name of the game with this setting. If Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom was too much for you, this might not be the story for you (but that’s not until Chapter 6)!
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