Raid away

Boudicca and Theodora take you to the Legion’s camp outside city limits. Roughly 5000 soldiers are lounging around camp, sitting around fires or playing cards in their tents. You walk alongside them towards the center of camp, ogling at beautiful women scantily clad in seemingly impractical armor.

“Are there any men here at all?” You ask, confused at why an army would even have women in it.

“This is your world Throaticus,” says Theodora quietly. “There can be men, if you’re into that.”

You shake your head in response. “Oh no, I’m ok thanks. Where are we going?”

“To meet the general. She’ll tell ya if you’re cut out for the job or not.” Boudicca sings from the front. “And we’re almost there. Here’s her tent.”

The three of you saunter up to a tent twice the size of the others, richly embroidered with intricate patterns around the entrance. Boudicca taps on the roof of the tent before strolling in. “Knock knock! We have another recruit to show you.”

You follow closely behind her, nervously surveying the inside of the tent. Warm oil lamps illuminate the room, their lights flicker menacingly off the walls. Two olive skinned women clad in skimpy armor are leaned over a war table in the center of the tent, the table marked with flags at points of interest on a map. From the back of the tent, an imposing voice booms through the room.

“Send him in!” A grizzled blonde women steps out of the shadows, clad in armor so useless it’s a wonder she bothered putting it on at all. She looks to be about 40 years old, and like she’s been through hell and back twice. Rough scars pockmark her arms and chest, and her left eye is covered by a black eyepatch. Still, her body is fit and tight, and her toned breasts almost shine in the oil light.

“This here’s Throaticus. He’s got his own suit of armor and an itching for some action,” says Boudicca, patting your shoulder a little harder than you’d like.

The general peers at you through her good eye, analyzing both your build and your character. “Scrawny build, weak constitution, a bit flabby in the middle too. Pass. Nice armor though,” she mutters before turning back to the war table.

You stutter for a minute in disbelief. “W-w-what? You don’t even know me!”

“I’ve seen your type before. Liability to the rest of the soldiers and you’ll be dead before we even get to Illyria. Pass.”

You seethe for a moment before exploding at the general. “NOW YOU WAIT JUST A FUCKING SECOND WHORE. THIS IS MY UNIVERSE AND I CAN DO WHATEVER THE FUCK I WANT, AND IF I WANNA JOIN THE ARMY I CAN JOIN THE FUCKING ARMY. GET DOWN ON YOUR KNEES.”

Compelled by your power, the general kneels down with a confused look on her face. You storm over to her, drawing your cock out from under your armor. Her mouth widens in shock as you smack her in the face, and you take this opportunity to stick your dick in her bitch mouth, fucking it with anger and fury.

The two olive skinned soldiers jump in surprise, scrambling for their weapons. They attempt to grab you and pull them away from their leader, but Boudicca and Theodora step in between you.

“How can she lead an army if she can’t defend herself,” Theodora growls, brandishing her spear. “This is between her and Throaticus.”

The general, paralyzed by the laws of your universe, weakly smacks at your thighs, unable to fight off your furious jackhammering. You moan, half in anger and half in pleasure, her seasoned throat grips your cock quite nicely. Her lips are spread wide around the base of your cock, kissing your pelvis as you rearrange her esophagus.

“You fucking bitch, you fucking bitch…” you moan weakly, your anger replaced with erotic self indulgence. You reach down and squeeze her breasts, kneading them sensually in your hands.

The general’s attempts at escape begin to fade as she submits to your facial ****. Her once lively eyes have transitioned to a thousand yard stare, and her hands hang limply at her sides. With a roar, you blast a heavy load in her throat, spurting thick ropes of cum past her windpipe and into her stomach. She takes your load feebly, not even attempting to swallows.

As your last pulses fade away, you release your grip around her head, and she drops to the floor. Semen slowly leaks out of her slack jaw onto the floor.

“Ya know what this means Throaticus?” Says Boudicca, massaging your shoulders. “You’re the general now!” The four women in the room hoist you up onto their shoulders, your limp dick flapping up and down. They parade you out of the camp, chanting at the top of their lungs.

“THROATICUS, CONQUEROR OF THROATS!”