Phaedra the one-handed Amazon

You watch the three women as the recruits file past, each dropping a pebble in one of the pots to add their mite to the choice of the new Phoenix Company's Mistress of Quarters. Flora stands confidently. Her ginger-gold hair and fuller curves, perhaps, draw some soldiers' eyes. Merrimay stands tall, quiet, surveying the men, the noble lines of her face marred by the pink scar above an eyebrow. Will the company choose her for their queen? Phaedra holds herself with the taut attention of the soldier she was, before she was maimed and captured. As Flora said, even lacking half an arm, Phaedra looks more than equal to most of the recruits.

Some recruits, hesitating to make the first real choice since they had joined the King's Own, press their pebble into a fellow soldier's hand, saying "You choose." Somehow during the evening's ceremonies you've impressed a couple of the young recruits, and you hold three pebbles as you approach the time of choice.

Phaedra's expression softens as the choosing starts. She tilts up one hip, eases her shoulders, and tries to catch the eye of each recruit as he steps forward. No longer standing at attention, and with her slim lines, she looks more girlish than the others, though from her looks you suspect she's the oldest.

You watch Pinch, just ahead of you, make his choice. With his smock tented out in front of his member, his cheeks pink and his eyes shining, he drops his pebble into Flora's pot. In your turn, you take another step, and rattle your pebbles into the pot in front of the captured Amazon whose physical grace and confidence outshine the others. Phaedra.

When the pebbles are counted, the Phoenix Company's choice is made. Phaedra is ahead by a handful of pebbles, followed by Flora, then Merrimay. The woman whom the others spoke of as a peacemaker, commanding respect, of unbreakable will, is to be the company's Mistress of Quarters.

You hear some mutterings of disbelief from recruits more partial to Flora. "Eh, she's still to be our wife," one consoles the other. "And One-hand'll keep 'em in line."

"Women of Phoenix Company, three cheers for your commander!" the company sergeant calls. "Hail, Mistress Phaedra!"

The women of the company raise their voices in chorus for Flora. "Hail, Mistress Phaedra! Hail, Mistress Phaedra! Hail, Mistress Phaedra!"

"Men, your Mistress of Quarters! Three cheers!" the company sergeant calls.

The men cheer Phaedra in loud and lusty voices, but more raggedly.

"I can't hear you, men!" the company sergeant calls. "Louder! Honor Mistress Phaedra as your COMMANDER in Quarters!"

There's some clucking of disapproval from the women.

The second round of cheers meets the sergeant's satisfaction.

With the evening growing late, the final ceremony is conducted quickly under the eyes of the regiment's officers and senior barrackswomen, including the Mistresses of Quarters for the regiment's other companies. The soldiers of Phoenix Company are married to the women of Phoenix Company, all to each, each to all, under the rule of Phaedra, Mistress of Quarters, and First Wife of the Company. Each man pledges faith and obedience to Phaedra's rule in quarters and among the women.

"And now begins the wedding night," the company sergeant announces. "I discharge you to the rule of Mistress Phaedra for the night. Honor your wives in love, as they desire, with never **** nor anger. The punishment is dire."

"Why'd it have to be that one-armed bitch?" a recruit murmurs behind you.

"She'll make the other girls sweet," another says. "Not to cross her."

In the next room are pallets, towels, and all that is needful for the men and women of Phoenix Company to consummate their wedding together. Off come the smocks and slippers. There seem like acres of skin glowing in the lamplight, pink, pale, gold, and dusky. You've never seen anything like it. So many male members, short and long, fat and slim, at every firmness and angle from low and soft to high and hard. So many naked women, smiling boldly or shyly, searching the men's faces, standing with their stature, posture, and figure in every combination. Some are as young as the recruits. Others are old enough to be their mothers. With Flora born to the regiment, you wonder how many men born to a company's wives return as soldiers in a later year. More than one woman shows the firm, prominent round belly of pregnancy.

The rest of the evening is a blur of warm flesh, sweat, and moans. The women, coached in advance by their seniors, mostly older than the recruits and few, if any, still virgin, are patient and encouraging with the inexperienced young men. Much seed is spilt in eager excitement by recruits before they even properly connect to consummate their wedding. Your old scapegrace page, Pinch, finds himself in demand. He starts with Flora, bringing both of them to the height of pleasure together, before cutting a swath through Flora's friends and favorites among the women, and returning to Flora after she has received the tributes of several young men.

Phaedra picks you out early, lays you back down upon a pallet, and rides you, doing all the work, her dark hair curtaining your face as she leans forward. She's hot and tight, but clearly experienced, and knows what to do to find her pleasure. She reaches her peak twice before she encourages you to move, to thrust, to find your own. You raise your hands and grip her taut, muscular buttocks, thrusting up at her. And it's so satisfying, in a room of rutting men and women, to release yourself, to add your cry of joy to the chorus, to spurt into the queen of this night, the one-handed amazon Mistress Phaedra.

By the end of the evening, you've drained your stones first in Phaedra, next Flora, in a wild ride from behind following Pinch's second go. Then Kay, a sweet-faced, roundly pregnant lady of perhaps thirty who whispers encouragement and gratitude, and last of all, in Merrimay, thrusting slowly and gently, sitting face to face with her soft buttocks cupped in your hands, till you find your release. She holds you tight and kisses you, keeping you close until your member ebbs and slips out of her. As you wipe, you see a smear of blood on the soft cleansing rag.

"Was this your first time, this evening?" you ask.

"Yes," says Merrimay in her foreign accent, looking into a distant lamp flame. "I went virgin to my wedding night. And now I have bedded Cal, Serge, and Robin. They were so eager, so quick. It hurt at first. And you, Rex," she said. "With you I felt what my mother said was that sweetness a woman finds with a man. How was it with Phaedra?"

"It was good," you say. "But you are sweeter. More loving."

Sometime in the dark, Lanks finds you and bundles you back to the palace through a secret tunnel. After dreams that the wedding night continues on and on, you wake in your bed, your head bleary and your member throbbing. You have a day at Court, and then your Royal Progress to begin.