Slaves Sex Test

The pawn dangled. The neck of the piece pinched by the fingertips of the man bathed by the glow of campfires and smelling sex always the same when he had a woman by his side. He sank into the whore by his side and drew her lips in for a kiss. His daughter watched this, wordless before her hand caught the handle of a weapon. “Girl don’t you ever get tired of killing? I’ll ‘daul’ you when I feel like it not before.” He eyed her from over the flesh of the whore he was enjoying, peeking out from behind their shoulder he grinned. “In the meantime celebrate and clean yourself up.” He noted the blood sight she had arrived in, head to toe covered with blood no wonder most of the more sober soldiers gave her a look of dread when she had first entered the encampment. “Roland!”

“What you want you golden-haired shit!?” The insult provoked a runtish laugh from her father, as Roland walked out from one of the side tents half-dressed his torso bandaged.

“Handled my brat. Make sure she has received my gift.”

“What the fuck are you going on about?!” She growls out every fibre of her being needed to tear this man into chunks of flesh and bone before a harsh sucker punch from Roland knocked her out.

The next thing she saw was the ground moving as she was being carried over the man’s shoulder. “The hell Ro?” She groaned.

“Don’t give me any shit just follow orders beside you’ll forgive me later am sending you to heaven.”

“That’s nice a real fucking angel…” She was fine with Roland than most of the band, like the others he was guided by coin and was smart enough to allow that to be the end of his vices. She learned early as a kid it was best to kill the ones, who eyed her with a lustful gaze, in their sleep. The only ones who followed her father were the best killers the empire had to offer and the best were always the worst pieces of shit that had graced said empire. Herself is included.

Roland carried her into the warm tent only to be replaced by the freezing cold water of a full barrel. “AH! You son of a cunt!”

He had dropped her in and dropped a clean rag onto her head. “Again following orders, get yourself cleaned up I’ll be back in a moment.”

The blood clung to her like a second layer of skin no matter how much she bathed she only wondered when she’d have to wash it off again when the next battle ended and then the one after it was a vicious cycle that she pondered, she questioned if so much **** was worth it just to get a chance to kill that bastard, yet mostly she feared eventually ending up like him, enjoy each fight, impatience for the next siege the next crimson bubble waiting to be burst once the gate finally opened and she could do her work.

Unknown to herself their hand had wandered down south as she bit her lower lip, she sank into the water and simmered with a blank expression looking at nothing in particular. “What the fuck is wrong with me?”

She didn’t know when she had managed to get out of the barrel but as she walked naked in the tent, her foot stood on something and cried out, looking down she removed her foot and her cold hunter’s eyes glossed over to a boy, dressed in church finary, the black robes of a choir boy she had assumed, he was bound by rope and gagged, he was bruised but unscathed and pretty, his pale angelic features **** her to glump, frozen as the boy stared back at her in panic.

Unable to tear her gaze away from the bound choir boy, she slowly walked towards him, her naked body shimmering under the dim light of the tent. Every step was deliberate, a hypnotic dance that drew her closer to the raw energy emanating from the bruised and gagged captive.

Leaning down, she freed his mouth from its confining gag with a swift tug. His eyes widened in surprise and fear, but the moment their gazes locked, a spark ignited deep within them both. She could feel his desperation mixing with an unfamiliar longing that mirrored her own.

As if under a spell, her fingers trailed gently across his bruised cheek, tracing the contours of his face. The touch was delicate yet possessive, claiming him as hers in that moment. His shuddering breaths betrayed his unease and arousal, feeding into the intoxicating atmosphere surrounding them.

The scent of heated desire filled the tent as she leaned even closer, their lips hovering millimeters apart. The anticipation hung thickly in the air, urging her to close the remaining distance and taste his sweet innocence.

But just as their lips were about to meet in a forbidden kiss, Roland's voice boomed from the tent's entrance.

“Couldn’t you put some clothes on? I ain't interested in your scrawny ass. ” True to his word Roland returned and dragged along with him a second boy, however, this one was far more scruffy looking, held up by his red hair his face was coated in black soot and burn marks all over his forearms. ‘A blacksmith’s apprentice?’ She had thought.

Keeping Roland in a capturing glare she didn’t care about her nakedness to him only answers. “Ro? What the hell is this?”

“Orders.” As if that was the answer. “Choose one. The other will be tossed and shared around the guys before we sell them tomorrow.”

“You can’t be serious?” Her eyes were almost feral the girl provoked some innate fear from the mercenary as he rested his hand over the head of his axe and tossed the boy at her feet.

"As I said am not the one you should be giving shit to you fucking bratt... just hurry up and pick one if not have a good night I'll get them out of here.”

Alexandra looked at both of the boys and was the first time in a long time she felt guilt. She hated it. Surprised herself she would remain naked that night and the morning after, sandwiched in the warmth of the naked flesh of two others a chorus of moans of pleasure and agony shared between the three of them.

“Greedy bitch.” Roland muttered to himself as he walked back to her father’s tent.

“Roland is that you?”

“Yeh.” He said nonchalantly as he watched his commander bury their cock into the whore they were enjoying.

The muscles of the old man tightened into a fierce display of raw strength as he pounded again and again into the woman pressing her face into the straw bedroll, while the other two whores worked themselves against his positioning themselves they enjoyed his balls and lick his ass. “And…” He spoke mid breath moaning from the treatment the women were providing. “Which one did she pick? Come on out with it, I need to know her preferences if I ever want to reward her in the future.”

“She didn’t pick.” Roland strolled up to his commander, the brute's chest heaved slowly his heartbeat quickened at the display, he reached his hands down towards his pants and worked to remove them. Out sprung free a slab of pulsing meat, Roland struggled to keep his composure as it glanced against the cheek of the blonde warlord prince.

“The fuck?!” He rammed harder into the whore from the response he had heard. “What do you mean she didn’t fucking pick?! Don’t tell me she doesn’t want to fuck! Bullshit!”

“Would… you let me finish?” His eyes filled with rage slowly simmered down as his pension for lust overcame his want for ****. Roland looked to the prince and grasped a hold of his own cock and slowly began to work it with a few good strokes “She took both slaves. I can’t rightly tell you if she fucking them right now…”

“Did she now? Father like daughter.” The prince pull on the whores waist and drowned her womb with his seed. “Honestly it's down right now heartwarming. I have more in common with that **** daughter of mine than I do with my other brats.”

“I wouldn’t tell your wife that.”

Finished with the main whore he moved to free his cock and left the women stewing across the floor, as he eyed the other man’s cock in the corner of his eye. He reached a handout and helped him stroke it slowly at first before not too long Roland’s hand was free of his cock and the prince was working it, which left the strong brute breaking out in a number of gruntish moans. “Let’s not talk about my wife, I have two more rent wives for the night, do you want to join us?”