The High Rider's widow

There is no need to act like one of the barbarian mercenaries who have swelled the ranks of the United Armies. For the most part those soldiers have been relegated to ravaging the common people of the lower city, but a handful of those mercenaries were invited to the be part of the men storming the tunnels of the Citadel. If any of those men found this beauty, you'd hate to be in her shoes. You do not have to be like that; with a gentle smile, you extend a hand to the panicked woman at your feet.

"Here," you offer her your hand, "I didn't mean to knock you to the ground." The buxom woman refuses to accept your help; clearly, she expects the worst from the invaders who had so unexpectedly taken the Citadel.

"You're going to **** me." Her voice is flat, almost emotionless but with a sweetness that makes you smile.

"No, I'm not." You assure her, "But if we don't take care of some matters quickly, the next three or four men who come crashing through that door might not be so accommodating." You offer her your hand again and this time she places her delicate fingers across your battle-hardened digits and allows you to pull her to her feet.

"What do we need to do?" She looks at you with renewed interest and hope, "you're not one of those Heliopolis madmen, are you?"

"Well, I assure you, I'm not a madman." You tell the nervous woman, "But I am here as a guest of the United Armies and the High Priestess of Helios, and what I need to do is make it clear that I have claimed you as my prize." Her brief moment of hope is dashed by this disclosure, but she refuses to let the news defeat her.

"That means I will be sold as a ****." Her voice is soft but clear.

"You will be sold from the auction block," you confirm "but do you have to be a ****? Don't you have anyone who can redeem you?" Your eyes sweep around the suite of rooms, there is obvious evidence of wealth in here. "I hope, for your sake, wherever it is it is well hidden, or you might well spend a good part of the next few years on your back with your legs spread for the pleasure of your new masters."

"I have no-one!" She sighs, "My husband was High-Rider Weller, and he was killed on the tenth day of the siege when the skies above Athenapolis were cleared for good." You look at the young widow with renewed interest, she is truly a prize! You wonder briefly what kinds of goodies there might be lying about these rooms, but your attention returns almost immediately to the woman by your side.

"Tiny drops sparkle at the corners of her eyes." - Damn it, you hate seeing tears like this - "That's a matter to worry about later." You tell her hoping to avoid the sight of a sobbing woman. "For now, I have to make your capture official, or some other jackass is likely to fulfill your worst fears." A little to your surprise she blinks away her tears and extends her arms forward, touching her slender wrists together in an unmistakable gesture of surrender.

A simple set of manacles (provided by a jovial hoplite as you were waiting above) are snapped around the woman's slender wrists and she was yours by all laws of warfare.

You hesitate when your hands move to her shoulders, but she meets your gaze boldly; when she nods her consent, you pull the dress down her arms exposing the swollen tits that you had been eying since you first saw her on the ground at your feet. Her dark nipples are swollen and dripping milk and with a chuckle of pleasure you taste the fluid oozing from her fat teats.

"Mmmm, that's tasty." Her soft gasp of pleasure does not go unnoticed but as much as you'd like to suckle on her breasts and make her moan with need, there are more important matters to deal with. "Where's the baby?"