The Feast of Blades and Humiliation of a Princess (M/f, Humiliation, domination)

It was cold and wet the day that woman came to the fighting pits. The unseasonal rains had turned to the ground to mud and cloth canvases had been erected over the stands which ringed the pit. Within those, the audience crowded, easily more than a thousand people were watching despite the weather. The air was tense, coiled with anticipation. There were many fighters that day. Many bouts and battles were to be held. It was the tenth day of the Feast of Blades and all of the tribes had gathered. There were only two days left of the great celebration, and it was now that the greatest of all the traditions held sacred by the tribes was to be held.

The fighting pit was where it took place. Warriors from all over the world were free to come and participate. Most were from the tribes but there were always a few who travelled from distant lands. The fighting was always fierce and bloody, though not to the ****. At the end of the final day, there would be only one champion remaining. The reason why so many competed? Because that single champion would then have the right to make any request of Krall, the Lord of the Tribes.

Krall, sometimes known as the Eagle or the Bear. A massive man with a mane of dark, unruly hair. His upper body was heavily tattooed, and he had been a raider before his rise to power. It was said that he was one of the most powerful men in the world. Perhaps it was even true. Certainly now that he had conquered the other tribes, he ruled a nation far larger than most of the civilised lands. His power and his reach were great and growing by the day.

And the man or woman who was the last one standing would be granted the right to ask him any one thing. He could refuse, of course. But he never had. It would be a great shame on him and his tribe to refuse such a brave warrior who had proven themselves so ably. In past days, he had granted wealth, noble titles, access to the tribe lands to foreigners and even the aid of his personal forces to a besieged kingdom.

So long as you did not ask him to do something that was against his nature or the code of his people, everyone knew that you would certainly get it.

And this was why warriors flocked to the Feast of Blades. Why contestants thronged and battled for the pleasure of the watching spectators. The arena was crude; a circular depression in the ground ringed by thick wooden walls. There were only two entrances. One to the front and one behind. The stands looked down upon it all.

Krall sat upon his throne, gazing down at the fight about to commence. The throne was, in fact, not a throne in the traditional sense at all. It was a large chair made of hard wood. Sheets of silk and cloth had been piled atop of it in an attempt to make it more comfortable, but it had been a failed one. People fussed around him. Servants and hangers on, they bombarded him with questions and offers that only served to annoy him. He growled and many of them fell silent. For now, at least. He knew to his regret that they would start up again soon.

He looked down, seeing the two fighters lining up. One of them was Uthgirt, a warrior of his own tribe and a veteran of a dozen battles. The other was an outsider. A woman with pale skin and dark hair. She was clad in simple green tunic and wielded two swords. Uthgirt had brought a massive, double-headed axe which shone in the weak sunlight that penetrated the heavy clouds.

“A swordswoman against an axeman,” Krall mused. “This one will be short and bloody.”

It was true. Technically, the matches here were not to the ****, but the People of the Tribes did not much care if someone died by accident. When blades clashed, accidents happened. Only if the **** was deliberate would there be punishment. And when swords met axe, it almost always ended in a swift ****.

“You think she will die?” Asked a voice from his side. Krall turned. A woman was standing at the side of his chair. She had a slender build, but her arms were toned and strong. Her skin was tanned and her hair was dark. Like him, she had tattoos running across her exposed chest, circling around her arms and lower body. Unlike his, which were the wolf and the bear, hers were those of a snake. They wrapped about her throat and descended down towards her breasts. Each serpent seemed to encircle one of her nipples, spiralling across her body from there. She wore a skirt of loose reeds which did little to cover the sensuous sway of her hips as she moved.

She was an extremely desirable woman to say the least. Her face was proud, her body strong. Both sexual and hardened by a life of trials.

She was also his wife. One of them, anyway. Rather more importantly to Krall, she was the one who had helped him engineer his rise to power. She held the wooden staff of her calling loosely in one hand. She was a Shaman, and one of the most respected figures in the tribe.

“Hmm?” He said. “I am afraid I was awestruck by your beauty and did not hear the question.”

“My beauty?” She cocked her head to the side. “You mean my hips and my chest.”

“To many they are the same thing,” Krall said. “You know you do not have to dress in this way.”

“I prefer it.” She said. “I am just as proud of my tattoos as you are, Krall. The difference is merely that where your body arouses awe and fear, mine simply arouses.”

Krall chuckled.

“Perhaps it is so,” He agreed easily. “Now what was your question?”

His wife - Tylana - gestured with her hand towards the arena. The two warriors were circling now. The dark-haird woman had a blade in both hands. Uthgirt was swinging with his axe, forcing her to keep her distance.

“You think that she will die?”

“Perhaps,” Krall allowed. “But the way she moves tells me she is no stranger to a sword and Uthgirt does get overconfident. Tell me, what are the odds of a swordsman against an axeman?”

“You already know,” Tylana said. “You merely wish me to repeat them.”

“Then do so.”

“As you wish,” She sighed. “When an axeman fights a swordsman, it is a matter of range. If the axe is large and heavy enough it will bite through any armour so one clean hit can kill. Therefore, when amateurs fight, the axe has the advantage. When two experts fight, it is more difficult to tell, but the axe still has a slight edge because of its reach.”

“And when two masters fight?”

“You think that woman is a master?”

“I do not know yet. Answer the question.”

“When two masters fight, there is only one thing that can be said for sure. The battle will be short. Either the swordsman will slip below the reach of the axe and deal a mortal blow while the axeman is trying to draw it back or they will attempt to do so but suffer a mortal blow themselves. Either way, such things are decided quickly.”

“Yes.” Krall said. His eyes were back on the arena now. The two were still circling. “Tell me, is there anything special about that woman?”

“Why?” Tylana asked. “Do you desire her?”

“I desire all things that I do not have,” Krall said. “That is why I came to rule. In this case, there is something about her which catches my eye. Use your magic.”

“As you desire, my lord.” Tylana said with a shrug. It was true that they were married but the idea of Krall desiring another woman did not bother her. That was the way with their tribe, and a powerful chief could have many wives. Her position as a Shaman assured that she would always be the most prestigious and respected of them. She did not care if he wanted to collect lesser trophies as well.

The Shaman closed her eyes, muttering a soft chant. There was a moment of tension and the air around her grew cold. Then, she was done.

“Well?” Krall demanded.

“Her name is Vrasha.” Tylana said. “You were correct. She is a suburb swordswoman. She has been fighting for the last two years of her life.”

“What is she feeling now?”

“She is calm. Confident. Uthgirt’s axe does not worry her. She is waiting for her chance and is sure she will soon have it.”

Even as Tylana spoke, Vrasha surged into action. As the axe swept past her, she swayed to the left and charged. One of her blades cut for Uthgirt’s throat - Krall was impressed, for it would have been a killing thrust if it landed. Outsiders did not normally fight so well during their first matches.

Uthgirt lumbered backwards, his muscles strained against the weight of the axe, fighting its momentum to drag it back. Vrasha’s second sword lashed out, quick as thought and a line of red was stitched across his upper shoulder. The pain distracted him merely for a split second, but it was all she needed. Vrasha’s first sword pricked the soft skin of his throat and Uthgirt froze. A moment later, he dropped the axe in surrender and the crowd went wild.

“Interesting.” Krall said. “Very interesting.”

“What are you thinking, my lord?” Tyalana asked.

“I am thinking that I desire her very much,” Krall said. “What as her buy-in?”

“Herself.”

“Ah.” The barbarian lord grinned. “How very useful. Have an invitation extended to her, would you?”

“You are going to fight her?”

“Only if she wills it,” Krall said.

[hr][/hr]

The invitation came a few moments after the fight was done. The crowd was cheering as Vrasha exited the arena, moving back into the sheltered wooden tunnel. Her face was sweaty and she wiped it down with a cloth provided by the aids who lurked unseen there. She was not tired yet, but there was much further to go before she stood before the Lord of the Tribes.

At twenty years old, Vrasha was very different from the woman she had once been. Born a young a princess of the kingdom of Khol-Hon, her life had been filled with lessons, tutors and quiet politics. She was not the oldest daughter and stood no chance of inheriting anything of worth, so her only goal in life was to be married off to some other kingdom somewhere. Truthfully, it was not a fate that she had despaired of. It was all she had known for most of her life, and Vrasha had dreamed of little more than finding a handsome suitor with a noble title and continuing the family line.

The last two years had changed all of that. When she looked at herself she didn’t even recognise that little princess anymore. She was a warrior, a soldier. Two years of unending civil war had seen to that. At first it had been her father and then her brother. Both had proven themselves to be greedy and cruel, legalizing the trade of slaves and starting wars of conquest to fuel that trade. It made them rich, but also gave them many enemies. Vrasha had been one such enemy. It wasn’t that she’d started off trying to rebel. Rather, it had come in small steps. First, she had heard the suffering. Then she had seen it. Then she had witnessed the naked women chained and abused. Rumours had reached her of the fighting and the killing.

At some point, she’d stumbled from simple childish defiance into actions which could not be taken back. Now she led an army. Two years of hard fighting had worn away the cultured and dignified princess. She had been **** to learn new skills; tactics, strategy, how to fight and win. She’d killed, her hands were stained with the blood of many and they would be even more stained before she was done.

She had no other choice. For herself, for those who followed her and for those she fought for, defeat truly was not an option.

“You are Vrasha?” A woman said, breaking her out of her thoughts. Vrasha turned. The speaker was a tall woman with tanned skin. Tattoos wound across her body, and her chest was bare. Two snakes circled her breasts, and she clutched a wooden staff in one hand.

“I am,” Vrasha said. “And who are you?”

“I am Tylana, A Shaman of the many tribes. My lord, Krall, sent me to extend an invitation to you.”

“An invitation?” Vrasha said warily. “What sort of invitation did he have in mind?”

Tylana chuckled.

“You know how the Feast of Blades works, do you not?”

“Of course.” Vrasha said. “Anyone can challenge and the one who wins is granted a single request.”

“Indeed,” Tylana said lightly. “But there is more. Anyone can challenge, but they must have something to wager. Money usually or goods. Should they fail in their challenge, those things become the property of the tribes. You however offered no money or goods. You offered your body.”

“That is right,” Vrahsa regarded her cooly. “It is all that I had. I cannot travel with much wealth on me, but I am confident in my skills.”

“I see.” Tylana said. “And you are aware of what will happen to you if you lose?”

“Are you trying to scare me?” Vrasha asked. “It isn’t working. I know what the penalty is if I lose. My body becomes the property of the tribes to do what they want with it. If I were a man, I would probably be made a warrior or servant and serve out my time. As I am a woman…”

Tylana grinned, though there was not much humour in the gesture.

“As a woman, you would be used for your body. You would be made a **** of the tribe and **** to obey all those who stood above you in the pecking order. You would be stripped down, a collar around your throat. Your warrior pride would be broken by humiliation and degradation, a sex toy for all of those in need.”

“I am aware of those risks,” Vrasha said. “You’re telling me nothing I have not heard or thought before.”

“I see,” The shaman spoke. “You must want this request very badly to risk that fate. Or…maybe that fate is why you have come here in the first place?”

There was a flash of movement and Vrasha’s sword was pointed towards the Shaman. Tylana had not seen her move!

“Do not accuse me of such,” Vrasha said slowly. “It is a risk I take because it must be taken. No more. I have a great need - beyond wealth or power - which only your lord can help me to acquire. For that, I would risk anything.”

“Very good,” Tylana said. She showed no sign of fear even as the blade pressed in close to her. “You have spirit and will. My lord, Krall, had noticed this. He desires you.”

“He wants to fuck me?” Vrasha said.

“That is part of it,” She agreed. “But not all of it. He wants to own and possess you. He wants to break you and humiliate you. To make you fully his just as he did with me so long ago.”

“You’re his ****?”

“No, I am his wife.” She grinned. “But this is the way of our people. I sought a strong and powerful husband and Krall proved himself by forcing me to submit to him. Now I serve him and do his bidding and in doing so, enrich us both. He wishes you as well.”

“Then he can keep wishing,” Vrasha said. “I don’t have any desire for a relationship like that.”

“And yet you will accept that risk,” Tylana told her. “Krall wishes to invite you to single combat. If you lose, instead of becoming the property of the tribes, you become his property instead.”

“Why would I ever agree to that?”

“Because it is only wise. A **** of so many would surely be abused. If you serve just one however, you will have much more freedom. He is a great man. Powerful and strong. He is the first in generations to unite the tribes. Besides, there is something for you as well. If you win against him, you are allowed to make your request.”

“I can make one anyway so long as I continue to win during the Feast of Blades.”

“True, but how many battles will you have before you can do that? Ten? Twenty? Are you sure you can win each and every one of them? You are very good at what you do but even you will tire. If you agree to face my lord, you must battle only once.”

“That is a good point,” Vrasha nodded. “Is it not said however that Krall is particularly skilled? Facing him would be dangerous.”

“As dangerous as twenty lesser fighters?”

Vrasha said nothing for a moment. She knew Tylana was leading her on. She knew the Shaman wanted her to accept. Most likely, Krall was far more skilled than any single opponent she might face today. But twenty warriors would wear her down. One fight against a supremely skilled foe might still be the easier choice. If that was, she thought she could beat him.

Could she beat him? She’d not yet found a foe who was her equal. Vrasha had found that, upon leaving a life of blandness and mediocrity as a princess, she had one true talent. It was killing. Vrasha was beyond merely ‘’good’. She had a natural instinct and grace. It was a skill she never would have found had things gone differently, but she had found it, and it made her one of the deadliest women in the kingdom.

She would do anything to protect her people, face any enemy or threat, and she was sure of her own skill.

“Very well,” She said. “Tell your lord that I will meet him in the arena. When I beat him, I want his help for the civil war. I require his backing and his army.”

“You ask for much,” Tylana said, cocking her head to the side.

“Yes,” Vrasha agreed. “But I do not think he will deny me.”

“No,” The Shaman said. “I do not think so either.”

___________________________________________________________

The two of them met in the arena fifteen minutes after that. Vrasha with her two blades and Krall with his one. Krall was a powerful and muscular man, naked from the chest up. Like Tylana, he was tattooed heavily. He had a mane of dark hair, and piercing eyes. He towered above her as they walked into the arena but Vrahsa refused to be intimidated.

The crowd was silent and tense. They watched from the stands but no one made a sound. It was rare indeed that Krall chose to fight for himself, but he had once been a legendary warrior of the arena.

“You are a beauty,” He told her as they met in the centre. “Deadly and fast. I will enjoy possessing you.”

“Perhaps,” She said. Her heart was pounding. “But first you have to beat me. Did Tylana tell you what I wanted if I won?”

“You wish my army.”

“Yes.” Vrasha said, her resolve hardening. “I will bring an end to the civil war that has gripped my kingdom.”

“Noble intentions,” Krall said. “But first you must earn the right!”

He surged forward, his blade licked outwards but she swayed below it. One of her blades cut to the left and he side-stepped, the very image of grace. His sword curved around and she darted backwards. Krall was very fast, but he was wielding only a single sword. She had two and knew how to use them, so her advantage was speed and angles. She could come from twice as many directions, rapidly overwhelm his defences.

But he had strength. Using a two-handed grip, his blade was more powerful than hers. If they locked or clashed directly, he would **** her back. So she danced and swayed around him, chaining strikes like bolts of lightning. Their blades danced and whirled, blurring into webs of sparking steel as hits were exchanged faster and faster.

Moments passed and they broke apart. Vrasha was panting, Krall was sweaty.

“You are very good,” He said to her. “Very good. I think there is not a warrior to match you in my whole tribe. Except for me, of course.”

“You are too confident,” Vrahsa growled. “I haven’t yet even begun to fight and you’re already wearing out. Why don’t you surrender now?”

“Surrender?” He laughed. “Woman, this is the first time I’ve been pushed in years!”

He roared suddenly and sprang, his blade lashed out but she turned it aside with a parry. There was a look of savage joy on his face as he landed. He spun, his sword cut for her throat and met only empty air. She’d ducked under it, rising with a stinging riposte which tore a thin line of red across his shoulder.

Blood! The crowd seemed amazed. Krall was the first to bleed?

The warlord’s laughter was thunderous.

“Yes!” He roared. “Finally, someone who can fight me! I was right to pick you out, Vrasha! I must have you! Once I have cast you down, you will serve me. Not only will you be my ****, but you will be my guard as well! With your skills on the battlefield, none will be able to match our combined might!”

“You think I would serve you?” Vrasha asked him.

“Eventually,” Krall answered. “But I am sure you would need to be trained first.”

“I would never submit.”

“I have heard that one before. But truly, it is not such a bad life. You will have wealth and power and fame. It is true that you will serve me in all things, and I will use you and your body as I see fit, but beyond that, you will be above most others on the tribe. You will be respected for your skills. You will even give me children who will inherit those skills.”

“Never!”

She stepped forward, launching a sweeping strike which **** him backwards. His blade rang out, meeting half a dozen of her strikes and turning them aside. He jabbed suddenly, but she flowed around it, stepping to the side. His left was exposed but when she tried to take advantage of it, his knee caught her in the gut. Pain exploded through her body and she turned her advance into an awkward roll which only just evaded the blade.

They circled again. Now they had both landed hits. Vrasha gripped the hilts of her blades, her heart was hammering but she **** herself to be calm. Krall was fast and skilled. He relied on a mixture of training, instinct and intuition to meet her assaults. She realised she had never met anyone better.

But she refused to lose.

Her raven hair flurried around her as she swept inwards for another attack. He leapt to meet her, their blades hammered and metal screamed. In the space of a few seconds, dozens of strikes were traded, dodged or blocked. The crowd watched in awe. Neither of the two swordmasters showed any signs of tiredness, though Vrasha’s arms were starting to burn with the effort.

When they broke apart this time, both of them were slowing. Fighting at this speed was a massive strain on a human body, and neither could keep it up for very long.

Krall chuckled.

“You are amazing,” He told her. “Never in my life have I been pushed this hard. You cut me. You actually managed to cut me.”

“Why do you sound so happy about that? Enjoy pain, do you?”

“No more than any other man,” He laughed. “But you don’t understand. I am the strongest warrior of all my people. For most of my early life, I fought in this very arena. I fought and killed and was threatened so rarely that the fights got boring. Do you know how many times I was even cut? Three times in my whole life. And all of them were when I was young and less skilled. This day you have pushed me farther than I have ever had to go before.”

“Why do you want me so much?” Vrasha asked.

“Because it is my nature,” he answered simply. “Ambition. Desire. I seek everything that I do not already have. The rarer and more valuable it is, the greater my will to attain it. You are one woman out of millions. A glittering jewel in a sea of coal. Where no one could touch me, you made me bleed. I must have you.”

“Then take me,” Vrasha’s eyes blazed. “If you’re strong enough!”

They closed again, meeting in the centre of the arena for the final exchange of blows. Vrasha let loose a blistering series of strikes which hammered into Krall’s guard, forcing him back across the sands. A second wound was cut into his upper arm, a third light slice opened across his cheek. The pain did not slow him, in fact, it made him faster. Invigorated him. A she slowed, he saw his chance and launched an attack of his own. His double-handed grip on the sword was slower than her dual wielding, but he hit with far more power and so he drove her steadily back. Vrasha traded ground for time, hoping that he would exhaust himself. Her swords felt like they were made of lead in her hands, but Krall was also tiring fast. His blows were now starting to lose power.

She saw her chance and ducked to the left, Krall’s blade swept past her. Her own carved for his flank. The barbarian warlord managed to leap, her first strike slashed under him. As he came down, he hurled his sword at her! Vrasha swayed aside, but it bought him a few seconds. Another man might have hesitated, seeing that he was now unarmed.

But Krall was not so weak-willed. He powered towards her, slamming a fist into the side of her face. Vrasha reeled back, pain exploded behind her skull. Krall smashed into her with a tackle, driving her body back into the wooden wall of the arena! Vrasha cried out, the sudden impact ripped her weapons from her hand and she slumped downwards. For a moment, the world was dark and she blinked, trying to restore her vision.

She saw that Krall was standing above her, her own sword in his hand. It was pointed right at her throat.

“Yield, Vrasha. You have lost.”

“Never.”

She glared up at him. She could taste blood in her mouth, but she didn’t seem to be too badly hurt. If she could get back to her swords, then she could continue the fight. But this seemed unlikely. Krall was holding one of them, the other was out of reach. As soon as she lunged for it he would stab her. Even if she made it, she’d probably be wounded and thus unlikely to win the rest of the fight.

She took a deep breath, preparing to make the attempt anyway.

“If you yield, I will grant your request,” Krall said.

“What?”

“You have been a worthy foe,” he told her. “I have never been pushed like this. Not in my whole life. So in a gesture of respect, I will grant your request even though you have lost if you accept that defeat now.”

“What will happen to me?”

“You will be my ****, but I will save your people.”

She looked into his eyes, looking for any sign of deceit or trickery. To her shock, she found none. He meant what he said.

What could she do? Her whole future had now narrowed to only two choices. If she continued to fight, she would probably lose but if she didn’t, she would keep her freedom. If she surrendered, she would herself become a ****, but would save those who depended on her. Her throat grew dry, and she felt a welling sense of helpless frustration. But in the end, there was only one choice she could make.

“I surrender,” She slumped to the ground in defeat. “You win.”

The crowd went wild. Their jubilant roar seemed to shake the very earth. Krall raised his hands, basking in the glory of the moment.

Vrasha lay back in the sand, wondering what her life would be like now. Her throat was dry, and she could not help but imagine the indinities and humiliation which would be piled upon her. But it didn’t matter. So long as she was able to help her people, she would endure it all.

Krall reached down, his fist closing around the neck of her tunic. He was strong and before she even knew itl, he’d dragged her to her feet. Her legs felt weak and shaky, the crowd was still baying. The sound of her defeat rang through the stands and Krall was glorying in it. It was the loudest sound that she had ever heard.

“I have won!” Krall roared, his voice rising over it all. The crowd chanted his name. He was an old favourite of theirs. “I am the King of Blades! And what king does not share his bounty?”

He pulled Vrasha forward, still holding the neck of her tunic. His other hand gripped her upper chest and before she could react, he pulled. Corded muscles bunched along his powerful arms and there came the sound of tearing fabric. Vrasha felt something cold spike through her spine as her green tunic was ripped in two, her naked body exposed under it.

The crowd went mad! She blanched, her face growing pale.

“No!”

“Yes!” Krall said. “You are mine now in body and soul, and why would I not let them see what I possess? Show them your body! Show them everything!”

She backed up, but he followed. There was a hunger in his eyes, and Vrasha’s legs were still trembling. Krall snatched at the ragged remnants of her tunic and pulled them from her body! Pale, gleaming skin was revealed below. Vrasha’s arms went to cover her chest, but the barbarian gripped her and spun her around, holding her hands behind her back he presented her naked body to the crowd.

The sound washed over her, as loud as any cheer of victory ever could have been. There were tears in the corners of her eyes and she was struggling, writhing but Krall’s grip was iron. She didn’t have the strength to break free. Everyone was looking down at her, seeing her naked body and it brought a surge of heat and blood to her face. She trembled, but her nipples were growing hard. She wanted to shout, to cry out that they shouldn’t be looking but humiliation stole her voice and left her quiet.

This couldn’t be happening! She was a princess, a prince-

Krall shoved her forward suddenly and she stumbled, hitting the ground and rolling. The sand clung to her body as she shook it off. Her head was spinning and the crowd’s chanting seemed to fill her very bones. They were shouting one name, over and over again, Krall. Krall, Krall!

And Krall was loving it. Vrasha watched in horror as he tore aside his lower garments, exposing himself in the same way that he had with her. But there was no shame in him. His manhood was stiff and hard. She felt an icy grip close around her heart as her eyes fell upon it.

“What are you doing?” She asked him.

“You knew the cost of defeat,” Krall told her. “You belong to me now. Your body belongs to me.”

“Yes, but not here! Not like this! With everyone watching?”

“Such things are no longer for you to decide,” He chuckled. “It will be hard for you at first, I understand. But you will grow to know your place and even enjoy it with time.”

He grabbed her and pulled her close; the heat of his body against her own sent tingles racing across her skin. Krall once more **** her hands behind her back as she struggled, squirming against his grip. Her breasts pressed against his muscular chest, and arousal surged through her. She dampened it, forcing it down but something in her was responding to this. She felt hot, her womanhood starting to become moist. Fuck, was she really gettingt aroused by this nightmare? She felt totally helpless, overpowered and without an option! She was going to be fucked right here, publically, in front of hundreds of people!

Why was part of her enjoying this?

Krall used the tatters of her tunic to bind her wrists behind her back, tying a knot and pulling it tightly. Vrasha had never felt more exposed in her life. The crowd was chanting and cheering, a sense of crackling excitement had spread through them. This was far more than they had expected to see! The foreign swordswoman brought low and humiliated by their champion!

When he was sure she could not use her arms, Krall dragged her towards him again. Vrasha was breathing fast, panic, shame and arousal all mixing inside of her body. He ran his eyes across her body, moving downwards from her head towards her breasts and then to her pussy. Vrasha shuddered when one of his hands rubbed her down there, making her whole body shake with an intense pleasure that sparked between her thighs. His fingers slipped between the outer lips of her womanhood and her face coloured. The crowd was watching him finger her, enjoying the sight of her flushed face. Her body was already sensitive, she could feel herself closing in around him as he explored her. Vrahsa’s arms were pinned behind her back, her legs **** open by Krall. With one hand, he explored her pussy while the other ran up the curve of her long legs.

His arousal was obvious, his erection strained. Vrasha tried to look anywhere else but at his cock, yet could not draw her eyes away. In moments, that would be inside her. She was going to be fucked here, in front of the cheering crowd.

Krall **** her to her knees, his shaft moving towards her face. She could smell his arousal, see the erection looming closer.

“Suck it,” He growled. “Pleasure me with your mouth.”

“I can’t-”

“If you care about your people, you will.”

She hated him then. Hated him in that sublime moments of helplessness and exposure. Yet something within her was awakening. The feeling of absolute defencelessness turned her on, being overpowered and used made her hot. She swallowed, trying to sort through the conflicting feelings.

Vrasha took his cock into her mouth. She tried to ignore her situation, how she was kneeling in defeat being face-fucked by a barbarian warlord. Her, a princess of Khol-Hon! But then, hadn’t she sometimes dreamed of something like this? Long ago, before the days of blood and battle, hadn’t one of her fantasies to be captured and used? A princess turned to a common whore?

She didn’t know. She felt confused, scared by the strength of her awakening feelings. Krall’s cock was in her mouth and she was sucking it, moving her head back and forth. Using her lips to pleasure the man who was humiliating her. The feeling was so intense. She could taste him on her tongue, feel the strain of her bound arms. The shame of her position. Her pussy was wet and hot, desire crackled inside of her. She was getting off to this and there was no way to escape that fact.

Krall grunted, Vrahsa’s tongue seemed to move on its own, playing across his shaft and teasing the head of his cock. She couldn’t believe she was doing this so willingly, but it was for her people. That was what she told herself.

Everything was to help them.

When he had had enough, Krall pushed her back again and she fell, legs splayed on the ground. It gave him a good look at her pussy and he grinned.

“That was good,” he told her. “Cocksucking was not a skill I expected a princess to have. Get much practice, did you?”

Her face reddened.

“No, I-”

“Ah, so you just have a natural talent. How fortunate for me. At any rate, it’s time to get to the main event.”

She didn’t need to ask what the main event was. His cock was hard, covered in her saliva, the tip stiff with desire and lust. She swallowed, Krall knelt down between her legs. The very tip of his member pressed into her pussy. The crowd had gone silent, transfixed by this moment. Even Vrasha felt as if she were about to cross some threshold, that once this happened, she would never be the same again.

He thrust forward, the head of his shaft sinking between her lower lips. Vrasha moaned, the penetration whipped through her body like a wave of fire. Arousal surged, and she felt her lower body gripping him tightly. Shame washed over her followed quickly by pleasure as he started to find a rhythm. He was fucking her, the people in the stands cheering and baying. Vrasha moaned, his thrusts powered through her body, the motion causing her breasts to jiggle and shake. Pleasure flooded her. Krall was a hungry and demanding lover, his every move was intense and forceful. His hands gripped her thighs, positioning her body, holding her legs apart as he had his way with her. Vrasha’s back arched, her hips moving with him. Swaying back and forth as the two of them fucked.

They moved faster, a sort of desperation coming into them now. Vrasha’s body was aflame with senseition, her pussy was screaming for more. Krall’s cock filled her up, penetrating her with each thrust. His hands moved from her thighs to her breasts, gripping them greedily. His fingers played over her nipples, teasing her in a crude and clumsy manner that was quite unlike her own late-night touches or those of anyone else she had ever spent time with. She realised the difference, of course. To other lovers, she had been a princess. Someone dainty and lovely, beautiful but ultimately fragile.

Krall didn’t care about that. He didn’t see her as some glass statue which could he shattered, but someone that he could fuck again and again, with no thought to her status or her former station. She was his **** now, his whore if he demanded it. Nothing else mattered.

Vrasha’s body started to buck, a growing sense of pleasure building within her. She was moaning more and more loudly, each thrust of his hips making her world spiral and tearing a lewd exclamation from her voice. The crowd watched, but she could not hear them anymore. She could still feel their eyes, though. Their gaze upon her naked body. The humiliation of knowing that each and every one of them would remember this moment for the rest of their lives. A princess’ humiliation.

Vrasha cried out as she hit her limit, the climax bursting from between her legs. Pleasure washed through her and she moaned, heat and ecstasy raced through her nerves.

Krall came inside of her, his seed pouring into her pussy. As he withdrew, she lay with her legs spread, womanhood dripping.

“We’ll have to get you to drink something later,” He said to her. “I don’t want you pregnant. Well, not yet anyway. At some point, perhaps. Our children would be mighty indeed.”

She didn’t hear him. Her head was still spinning. Humiliation and post-orgasm satisfaction were battling for supremacy in her mind. She lay on the wet sand, her legs spread, and realised that this was only the start of her new life.

___________________________________________________________

After it was done, she was taken from the arena. Her arms were bound behind her back by chains, the last tattered remnants of her tunic taken away. Krall put a collar around her throat, and used it to lead her out of the fighting pits. The crowd gathered, laughing and congratulating him on his victory. Vrasha was **** to march naked through them. Her breath caught in her chest, and she could still feel his seed leaking from between her legs. Hands trailed across her chest, touching her thighs and legs. Someone slapped her behind and the crowd laughed. It was shameful and humiliating and she couldn’t even defend herself!

Krall dragged her by the chain around her neck, forcing her to stumble forward. Her arms were tied tightly, and she could not catch herself if she fell. Naked and without any cover, Vrasha was **** to stumble through the rain. The water splashed across her body, soaking her hair and running down her naked sides.

She’d hoped that the crowd at least would have dispersed as they made it away from the arena, but instead the opposite happened. The streets became more and more thick with people as the word spread that the exotic foreign fighter was being humiliated. Everyone wanted to come and see. No matter where she looked, Vrahsa could not find a spot without someone leering at her. Their bodies pressed in around her, their fingers trailing across her sides and chest. She moaned, someone slapped her behind. Another traced a line down her outer thigh. Desire and lust was on every face and she felt small and helpless.

Only the presence of Krall prevented them from swamping her here and now. The knowledge sat cold and chilly in her mind, that if this man was not present, the crowd would surge and she would be caught under them. Dragged from her feet and used, her body abused and humiliated anew.

She swallowed, ignoring how the thought sent shafts of heat running through her body. She wanted to hide away, wished that the ground would open up under her. Everyone was seeing her. She had been stripped of her clothes, of her dignity and of her honour. The cold rain ran down her chest, and she realised that if she had lost not to Krall but in the arena proper, this would surely have been her fit. Pinned out for anyone to use and ****, she would have endured the crowd without pause or end until she was a gasping, naked mess. The prospect of being made to pleasure so many, of experiencing orgasm after orgasm until she lost count, it filled her with a sort of heat and disgust. She was disgusted that someone might endure such a thing, but also disgusted that part of her wanted to.

She was ashamed in that moment. Ashamed of her own desires, of her own body. Naked and helpless, her arms pinned behind her back, she could feel the stares of the hungry crowd. Their desire flooded her like a tidal wave, and Vrahsa shivered, imagining what could be if only Krall was not present.

Krall jerked the chain and she stumbled, there were tears in her eyes. More hands reached out to caress her body. Someone touched her down there and she bit her lower lip.

Eventually, they made it to his home. it was not a permanent home, for the tribes often wandered. Yet to call it a tent would also not be accurate, for if it was a tent, it was a tent-palace. A large structure consisting of multiple rooms, feasting areas, bedrooms and studies. There were armouries, places for guards, even libraries.

“Did you think me some savage?” Krall chuckled, seeing the surprise on her face. “I may be a barbarian by your terms, but knowledge is power, yes? And power is what I desire above all else.”

She was taken to the central chamber where someone had built up a fire. A large metal shaft was hammered into the ground deeply, and her arms were chained to it. Vrasha tugged, but had little hope of dragging it free without hours and hours of effort.

Then, Krall went through her belongings. Everything she had brought with her to the tribes, he had sent to his tent. He had it piled on the floor in front of them both, just out of reach. Vrahsa could see her clothes, her weapons, and even her most prized possessions had been laid out before him.

“You are mine now,” Krall told her. “You are property. You do not need these things, for you are yourself a thing. Who ever heard of clothes owning anything?”

He chuckled and reached down, pitching one of her tunics into the fire. Vrahsa watched it burn, feeling a pit open in her stomach. He repeated the process with the next thing and then the next. Each time, Vrasha felt as if another part of her past had been lost. He was tearing at her, making her lesser. Each burned piece of her history was something gone forever. Her clothes, her books. Everything that had helped her to stand free and proud. They were all being ripped away, one by one as she was **** to watch.

Vrasha did not make a sound. She did not give Krall the satisfaction of seeing her dismay. The fire licked greedily, consuming everything that she had once called her own with the exception of her weapons which Krall instead intended to use as trophies.

“You will see them again,” he promised her. “Framed and on my wall. If you are very, very good, I might even let you hold them once or twice.”

After the weapons and the clothes were gone, it came down to her most prized possession. Vrasha was not a woman who had much sentimentality. She did not travel with jewels or fine clothes. She had brought just enough money to do what she needed to do and no more. But there was one thing which she had carried with her from her former life. It was a small palm-sized metal plate. A hole had been punched through it to allow a string which let it hang as a necklace. The front of the plate was decorated by the symbol of a roaring dragon.

It was a piece of history. A talisman that she had recovered from a ruined temple long ago. Before she had rebelled, before her world had become so much more violent and deadly. A link to a life that was now well beyond her. As she saw him reaching for it, Vrasha’s heart started to beat more quickly. Part of her wanted to cry out and try to save it, but she bit her tongue. She knew at this point that it would not work, and even if it did, it would represent a surrender. Her becoming what Krall wanted her to be.

For a long moment, he examined it. Moving it back and forth, feeling the weight of it in his hand. Then, he let it fall into the fire. Her eyes tracked it, her heart hammering right up until she could see it no more.

Vrasha looked to the ground. There were tears in her eyes again and yet, something deeper was there too. Arousal, desire. Was this really what she wanted? She didn’t know. She didn’t know anything. She realised that she now hated Krall more than any other person she had ever met. More than her father or her brother. Those two merely wanted to defeat her because she was in their way, but Krall wished to destroy who she was.

And part of her wanted him to succeed.

After this, he took her again. It was different. Krall took his time to really explore her body. To find out what made her moan and cry out, where her pleasure was most intense. He learned what set her off, where she was most sensitive, and continued to use that knowledge until her whole body was shaking. Vrasha moaned and moaned until her throat was hoarse.As the hours wore on, her body started to reach its limits. He fucked her, he ate her out. He had her pleasure him with her mouth. Poured oil across her body and massaged it into her breasts and her chest. Passion and pleasure mixed and flared within her, fusing with shame and humiliation until Vrasha did not even know what she was feeling.

And then, when it was finally over, she slipped into an exhausted sleep. Krall grinned to himself, moving away from her. His body was strong but even he had been pushed to his limits by their session. Though he would never admit it to anyone.

He found her quite pleasing. Her skin was pale and her form more lithe than a woman of the tribes, but this had the allure of the exotic. The sound of her moans had stirred his bloody, the feel of her body close to his had caused his passion to burn, He hadn’t felt like this in quite some time.

And her skill with the blade! Second only to his own. He had not lied when he said that he intended her to follow him into battle. Together, they would be unbeatable.

Once she was properly trained, of course. He was not a fool. He would need to ensure loyalty.

As he strode out of the central chamber, still naked, he found that someone was waiting for him. Tylana, his shaman and his wife. She looked up at him, eyes glittering. There was no jealousy there. The two of them had an understanding. It was not love which had brought them together, but mutual desire and need.

“Did you enjoy her body, husband?”

“Indeed I did,” He grinned. “I think she will be very useful to us in the future.”

“You want me to train her?”

“Yes.” Tylana’s training would help to break Vrasha to her new role, and teach her how to make the most of her body when Krall wanted to enjoy it. “But I may watch the lessons.”

“Of course you will,” Tylana said. “You are a straight man, are you not? I am sure you will find them more enjoyable.”

He chuckled. She knew him far too well.

“Her people,” Tylana said then. “What is your intention there? Now that she has lost to you and surrendered, she has no power to compel you to do anything. Will you leave them to die?”

“Of course not.” Krall said. “I may be arrogant and ambitious and cruel, but I do keep my word. I told Vrasha that I would save them in exchange for her surrender and so I will. Send out the messengers. As soon as the Feast of Blades is over, we ride to war.”

“My lord, Kohl-Hon is vast and ancient and powerful.”

“That is correct,” Krall said.

“Were we to fight it, it would not be an easy war. Even if we win. One might say that it is far more costly than one ****-girl is worth.”

“There are those who would say that,” Krall nodded. “But those men are not master of the tribes. I am. I gave my word and my word is law. I told Vrasha that I would save her people and so I will. That is all there is to it.”

Tylana smiled, a strange look coming into her eyes.

“As you wish, my lord. As you wish.”

Author's Note: This story was commissioned by Regin34 on this very site. If you are interested in a commission or wish to know my rates, feel free to contact me.