You serve the witches up for an orgy (part 1)

In the large wooden cage are the five remaining women aside from Marzena and Hannah who'd accompanied you as spellcasting auxiliaries. You wished that your idiot elf mercenary captain was here right now so you could slap him - he thought they'd be enough to turn a battle around? They hadn't been able to defeat a crowd of common thugs with big swords. As always, the powers of mages brought to a field of battle, though great in theory, made a much poorer substitute for conventional long-ranged weapons than a fearful peasant would assume.

The way you saw it, the one and only woman among them who had pulled her weight and come close to justifying the faith placed in her was Marzena. If you had six like her, you no doubt would've won. As it was, you don't care to let them in on your little trump card, though you still had to keep Ross close to back up your earlier threat.

"I am your ruler," you say to them - drawing more than one sneer of condescension, "and so I must... apologize for where we've ended up here. True, you made the choice to accept an offer, but I was the one who put it in front of you. Until proper training and a proving of your worth can take place, I don't think it is wise to continue with the offer I had made before. Your duties will not change... for the moment. Which brings me to the regrettable cur-"

You are cut off by a raucous round of bitter laughter by Yara. She was at least 15 years your senior (you don't ever remember seeing her as anything younger than a young woman) and had never respected you, least of all now. "The funny thing is," the gangly woman with wavy blonde hair and sharply pointed chin said to you, "the brat isn't entirely wrong - but not for the reasons she thinks. Can you believe she still thinks that this is going to and any other way than being chained up like livestock in a barbarian's hut for any one of us, including her? I dearly hope I live long enough to see her sense of entitlement crushed by the reality of this."

Frowning, you shoot her a stern gaze back. Not because you were bothered, but because you'd been planning to rig the drawing of straws precisely because you didn't like her, and now, if she was one of the ones selected, it would look a bit suspicious.

"You all still have a duty to me," you say, "and you must recognize that I am your only hope of getting out of this all alive. So please, I implore you to LISTEN. The foremost - and, quite frankly, most talented and intelligent - among you, Marzena, has helped me to make a secret deal or two in this group of thugs. See this slack-jawed farmboy here?" you jab Ross in the ribs, and he huffs indignantly, half turning away but not denying it. "He's in my power and owes his life to me... and his boss is in nearly the same situation. This column is marching back to Undrek itself. Despite your failures," you glare hard at Yara, "and the cowardice of Aeson and his soldiers, you'll all be safely home tomorrow. Nobody is getting chained up anywhere except the usual place back in the Crooked Tower. Incidentally, Yara... you, and all the rest of you girls, had better hope we manage to recover the silver manacles I took off of you. If we don't, there'll be no more talk of new privileges until you've paid the Tower back for the cost of replacements."

Most of the other girls look relieved, though two of the spunkier ones tried their best not to show it. Yara sighed and rolls her eyes melodramatically. "Altering the deal at the last minute? I'd expect no better. You can declare what you like. I know what I agreed to. You told me to cast my spell on those charging mercenaries and I did. We all did. The reason why your 'friend', that sado-masochistic madwoman who you've placed in charge of us, was able to do something more impressive is because she flaunts the laws you claim to be serving! She takes off her own shackles any time she pleases and practices, while the rest of us are left to rot and be used by sweaty, disgusting men all night."

Far from trying to deny this in any form, Marzena gives one of her trademark, nasal, squawky laughs (even with a gorgeous body and pretty face like hers, her laughs, the sound of her voice, and her sense of humor could get so annoying that a few would-be customers would occasionally be frustrated into pulling their pants back on and storming off before doing the deed with her). "That's why I fill my quota by street-walking in the day instead of sulking like you do, y'old spinster! Nyehehehee! I don't look at numbers but I would bet a week's servings of dessert that I earn more than any of you!"

Off to the side, behind Yara, is another of the girls... she was a very recent arrival, and it took you a while to remember her name was Nancy. She was one of the younger witches, but not one of the few who were still below the age of adulthood, hence why she had volunteered for this milita service. She was petite and very cute - still wearing the black stockings, detached sleeves, and sheer black blouse which was among the most common clothes choices for the Tower's inhabitants (they were required to dress in such a way that they stood out, purportedly for the townfolk's safety, but really to make them more eye-catching). Her big green eyes and small button of a nose were making a resigned pout, and she shook her head, causing her two large, girlish unbraided pigtails of black hair to bounce and shake. "Ohhhhh! Marzena, you always say such disgusting things! Countess Zoe, please, can't we have another chance? I mean, if I have to pay back what was lost I guess it can't be helped," she mumbled, blushing and looking down, "but... Yara is right, you did offer us a way out!"

Hopping to her feet, another of the witches comes up. Her name is Olivia, and you were a bit surprised to see that she'd become a part of this group... a woman in her prime, a few years older than you or Marzena but younger than Yara. Her skin was a deep tan, though not quite as dark as the likes of Johari and her family, and her hair was made vividly blonde with peroxide or some other alchemical substance... although Olivia wore her hair very short and closely trimmed, not unlike what a squire might have, her usual attire was daring even by the standards of Undrek, a tight top that barely covered the two great, soft mountains springing forth from her chest and hid none of its bouncing motion when she walked, exposing her taut midriff and belly button all the way down to a leather skirt so short she couldn't even bend over without flashing whoever was behind her. Unlike Marzena, Nancy, and most of the other witches, Olivia never wore stockings and preferred sandals. So far as you knew Olivia had been very successful in her time at the Tower and was a favorite of many, and had an effortless skill at posing sensually for anyone who happened to be looking. On second thought, you realize, her popularity may be part of the problem and a reason that she's out here. "I agree with what Yara was saying before. You're being way too optimistic, Countess. Are you really so sure that whatshisname there is going to do anything that you ask once he's gotten what he wants from you?"

A third one stormsover - this one another sprightly youth not much older than Nancy, and going by the name of Rima. She was a real troublemaker, and one who was always getting in fights with Marzena. Unlike most of the girls in the Tower, Rima had made multiple escape attempts. "This is the WORST! You're the WORST, Zoe! Augh, damn it! Yara, Nancy, didn't you listen to me before? I know that cow Marzena won't, but let me tell you again: My daddy is one of the richest merchants in the Crownlands, and I know he's been spending the last year trying to find me and work out a way to get me out of here. If we were to go to Aldergrove, it'd make it that much easier to find me, and I promised you that I'd put in a good word for freeing any other girls with me, as well!" Rima was a bit on the short and petite side like Nancy and had a somewhat similar cutesy, girlish charm in her face, but she'd been gifted with more ample curves, and the blue silk doublet stretched over her body, as well as the matching powder-blue leggings that clung to her backside, showed off the sensual curve of her hips and the perky, proportionally-large bosoms she was blessed (or cursed, depending on how you saw it) with. She liked to work with potions - the reason she'd been caught in the first place was because she used one with magic to turn her hair a vivid shade of blue to impress her noble friends, a punishment she was now profoundly bitter about. It was still that color (apparently the effect had been permanent without her realizing it) and she now wore it in large, poofy pigtails, which were wavy and unkempt unlike Nancy's short, straight ones.

You lick your lips. Silently, you thank Rima for helping to make your treachery a bit easier. "This is the only way," you say firmly in a tone that brooks no dissent, "that you are going to get back to a decent life. Some of you may think otherwise, but I'm all you have. I WILL rescue you all from this danger. And I WILL consider allowing you another chance to win your freedom from the... market of the Tower. But we have to get through tonight first. Now, Hannah, " you indicate the tall, sweet-faced woman standing far behind you, who avoided her fellow magic users' gaze, "will be tampering mildly with the mercenaries drink... nothing harmful, just a mild sleeping potion. But we can't count on all of them falling prey to it, so a few of us are going to have to be, well... gathered in the largest tent and **** to accept whatever... attention we get, until tomorrow."

Rima and Nancy wrinkle their noses and share a dismayed look. Yara's lip quiveres with ire but she said nothing. Olivia seems mostly unfazed, but crosses her arms. You continue: "Now, although you didn't do as well as I hoped, and Aeson really proved himself an incompetent ass, it is true that... I should have maneuvered this situation better. So, I'm proposing this: Marzena has a bundle of straws here. Each of us will draw one from it. The ones who pull the longer straws will be allowed to stall by 'washing up' or 'recovering from the march', or feeling a bit of sickness... and remain here in the cage. The ones who pull the short straw will be in for some rough treatment, I'm sad to say. Everyone, including me," you say, pausing for emphasis, "will draw, so just this once, we are all on an equal footing..."

"Oh, no!" Rima lurches forward and actually grabs the bars of the cage as she stares daggers at Marzena. "I don't think so! Zoe, I don't know if you're dumb or in cahoots with her, but Marzena is the one who figured out how to slip the manacles off, and on top of that she knows the most spells out of any of us! We're not letting her cheat!"

You want to throw back your head and laugh, and a blush comes to your cheeks - exactly as you planned. You try to look annoyed instead of overjoyed. "FINE then. You all know that I am not a magic user of any degree whatsover, yes? Rima, you examine the bundle of straw, and then hand it to me, I'll shuffle it in my hand, and then we'll draw. Alright?"

There is a general silence. Olivia tries to suggest a footrace instead but Nancy implores her to reconsider, and she eventually relents. The handoff is made, and hesitantly, each of the women comes up to take from your hand and see their fate... The stakes are real, after all, and there is total silence as they prepare to do so. After all, even if it's nothing they haven't done before, these are rough and violent men and they have to consider the non-negligible possibility that they will be hurt or even killed by an overexcited or sadistic soldier. And besides that, being over a days march away from Undrek, they have no access to any pessaries, clay diaphragms, or other contraceptive methods that, while far from infallible, were a good sight better than nothing.

Yara looked like she was winding up to unload on you with a torrent of ire and ****, but when she dares to look down at her hand she sees that she is holding the longest straw, and just clears her throat. Rima seethes when she sees Marzena draw a long straw as well. And, after that, their fates are sealed: all the rest of them are short straws, except for the one you have hidden like a spring in the cleft of your palm, allowing you to let the short straw you'd been left with fall away silently while the last to draw - Nancy - is looking at her short straw with great chagrin and no small amount of horror. With a clearing of her throat, Olivia takes it from Nancy and says "I'll just have to work twice as hard then - go on and get back in the cell, Nancy." The younger girl looks like she is about to cry, but still notes hastily and drops her eyes to the ground. It's almost enough to make you feel guilty. Well, more than enough for that - but far too little to make you speak up or change your mind.

One hour later...

__

Hands still bound tightly together in front of them, the 3 unfortunate women who had been chosen by "bad luck" were gathered atop a heap of fur and leather bedrolls near a fire at the center of the evening's camp. A circle of dozens of the Gaelicans - drinking, bragging, and occasionally leering in anticipation of what was being served up purportedly for them - ringed them from all sides, so even though each girl only had her wrists loosely bound together with twine, they were left with no way out and no real way to defend themselves... especially since Cadh had promised his soldiers that they wouldn't. The hard whiskey which they had brought an entire barrel of with them (and getting lighter with each passing hour) flowed freely. It was fortunate that they kept it all in one container like that - it had made Hannah and Cadh's task of lacing it with a sedative all the easier.

Knowing her, you aren't sure you trust Hannah to have done her job properly - but then, thanks to your treachery, if she did fail to brew the stuff correctly under such poor conditions and great time pressure, she was among those who'd suffer for it. Leaving out Yara, Marzena, Nancy, and one other witch by the name of Alissa who was nearly catatonic from fear over all this, the curvaceous tanned blonde Olivia, the sharp-tongued brat Rima, and Hannah herself (whose inability to tell her friend the whole truth was at the root of this mess by her own admission) were gathered close to one another. Hannah was sitting crosslegged placidly despite the nervous glint in her eyes, back straight. Because of the way the binds held her arms together, it made her shoulders frame and push out her enviably large bosom.

And speaking of those - Olivia's round, firm globes with thin white fabric stretched so tightly over them were thrust way out front. Olivia always had a talent for erotic poses, and she sat in a kneeling posture with both her legs folded up beneath her hips, her back bent forward to accentuate her curves to the greatest degree possible. In contrast to the muttered cursing she'd been doing in the run up to this, she was giving anyone who looked to her face a sultry smile and winked at anyone who looked her way. Rima presented a sharp contrast - the exotic-haired, rebellious young princess (figuratively speaking), was bent forward and sitting with her hands resting on her knees. Since she was wearing tight blue leggings rather than a skirt and stockings like the others, she eventually realized that she needed to disrobe if she didn't want one of her only outfits ruined, and she began hesitantly unlacing her corset.

You have quite a warm seat yourself. You are nearby, sitting on Ross's lap, ensuring that his arm is wrapped around your waist to make him look more in control than he is. He occasionally squeezes your thigh or runs his hand over your shoulder, but those who meet his gaze are, hopefully, not too suspicious about the hunted look in his eyes.

Marzena was still off with Cadh, so you were in charge of oversight for the moment... was your sorceress friend going to keep having sex with that man even though she was holding him hostage with a particularly brutal enchantment that threatened to kill him at any time? That seemed rather morbid, even for her, but then, it's her prerogative either way.

At first, you were surprised, for the second evening in a row, by the relative restraint of the Gaelicans. They didn't just rush in the moment the girls were sat down by the fire like starving dogs, even though most of them had surely been quite some time without getting to enjoy a woman's touch. But then again, they had no urgent reason to rush, and you intuit that part of their coarse martial social bonds was a wariness of seeming greedy or selfish. It seemed that knaves like Ross and Aiden didn't represent all of them. Perhaps they still had a bit of concern after the 'crotch rot' threat you had made to Aiden had spread among them? Cadh, before he went off, had had you promise the throng that the girls wouldn't do anything incorrect, but perhaps they hadn't interpreted that venereal threat as solely magical.

And then comes a turn of irony that you are sure Marzena would be cackling like a hyena about if she was outside to see it: the barbarians were bartering, trading, and gambling for rights to first use... Including by drawing straws. The exception, and the first one to make a move on the lot of you, is a big, bearded brute who had succeeded in beheading one of your own soldiers with one swing, which these savages apparently considered a great and laudable accomplishment which entitled him to first rights.

Sure enough, here he comes, giving a little snort as he walks past. "Pfah! I see that smug little sneer ye are wearing there, laddie!" he looks down at Ross disdainfully. "Spoiled wee mousie... that high class cunny is too good for the likes of you." But instead of sneering, he followed it up with a laugh. "Talking your way unnder that skirt... ought tae have been a minstrel, laddie."

Glancing up, Ross hesitated for a moment. You elbowed him as if to remind him that you wouldn't brook anything from him that even looked like sowing suspicion. "Ah, just lucky enough to have charge of her food. Don't get too jealous, Bill. She had no more a maidenhead than any of those witch-whores... aye, likely she'd have less, were it possible."

You blow air through your lips disdainfully. "Yes, yes, go ahead and put on a tough front for your friend. He knows as well as I do that you had to beg me to let me as much as lay a finger on me..." you turn to 'Bill', "and I only grudgingly went along to keep away from the likes of YOU, that're missing half your teeth. At least a pig like Ross has seen fewer winters - and a LOT more baths - than a shaggy ox of your type."

Seamlessly changing subjects, you turn your head to the side and flick your eyes to direct Bill's attention. "Though, because I know your type, I can make a suggestion - why don't you go over and help Rima, that outrageous blue-haired trollop, out of her leggings, since she can't use her hands properly. She is always whining and spinning stories about her daddy. Why don't you see if you can make her call you that?"

"Zoe, you biiitch!" Rima says in her sharp, peevish way - but that was all the encouragement the brute had needed. He chuckles evilly and swaggers over, pulling Rima's hands up over her head, arms brushing against her bushy blue pigtails before sliding down to hook under the waistband of her tights. Too crude and aggressive to figure out how to properly take them off, he grabs a big handful of the delicate powder blue fabric and rips it, pulling it so harshly that she would've toppled over if it weren't for his grip keeping her upright, leaving her pale lower body completely exposed. He doesn't stop there, and a chorus of supportive cheers, jeers and claps comes from the mercenaries as he brutally tears Rima's outfit to shreds, leaving her standing there in just her skin.

"Ha, it's true!" Bill says, wrapping one hand around the squirming Rima's waist and using the other to lift her thigh up, holding her up and forcing her legs wide open to give all of the leering eyes a glance. Rima rolls her eyes and gave a disgusted little snort but chose not to give Bill the satisfaction of squirming against him. "These Undrek lassies cut their hair 'tween their legs. Lookit that tiny little puffball she has left! What d' ye say, lads, going to be a problem for ya?"

There is a wave of shaking heads and roars of denial but Bill just chuckles. "Nah, nah - don't make your minds up yet, I'll give it a test for ye first, lads!" He roughly tosses Rima's whole body onto the pile of bedrolls, drawing a surprised 'Ooof!' from the girl, and then bent down to **** her legs apart and start toying with the pink lips he'd exposed.

"Ugh, so gross!" Rima complains again as Bill's head delved between her thighs and started noisily licking and slobbering all over her sex. It was but a minute before the oversized roughneck reached down to push his kilt off and toss it aside, showing that his arms weren't the only huge and apelike parts of his anatomy and that he certainly didn't intend to stop there.

There comes an arrogant laugh from among the lot of them as another one is pushed forward. Another grizzled-looking mercenary whose left face was one huge mass of a scar along with several similarly large ones on his back and legs... and indeed, during the battle, this particular one had taken a spear through his upper arm, tearing it up awfully. The rag bandages around it were still bloody and, walking around in this filthy landscape, he was probably doomed to lose the arm to infection, if not his very life. But for now - the encouraging rowdies around him called him Harb - looked like he considered himself eminently fortunate for being chosen to go first. He walked up to Olivia and began running his good hand over the crown of her head, dragging his fingers through her short blonde hair before curling it gently around her neck, then tracing further down to give her breasts an open-palmed squeeze. He said something you couldn't hear, but the point of it was clear, as after she shot you a dirty look, Oliva did her best to assume a sultry smirk, licking her lips and sighing sensually before pulling Harb's (likely none-too-pleasant smelling) cock out from under his kilt and running her tongue up over the tip. He wasn't a patient fellow and almost immediately gives himself over to taking hold of her head with his good hand and starting to forcefully thrust himself into her throat.

Hannah maintained a good calm demeanor but you are pretty sure she is beginning to sweat as two younger mercenaries - still good-naturedly quarreling as they came up to her, having apparently 'tied' when rolling dice, come up to either side of her and bend over to start running their hands over every inch of her curves, with a particular emphasis on her soft breasts... being inexperienced by the looks of them, they were even rougher than the older men sating their hunger with Rima and Olivia.

Obligingly, Hannah gets to her feet to give the two of them easier access to her body. One of the two roughly grabs Hannah by the shoulders and presses his mouth against her, cupping his hands under her breasts and bouncing them up and down, marveling at their heft and softness. The other one, apparently convinced that Bill has the right idea of how to start things, pushes his head up under the young woman's skirt. Although from where you are sitting you can't see everything, you can see a shiver run up and down Hannah as the young buck puts his tongue inside her.