“Now,” I said lowly, “do you want to tell me what happened in Alkandra?”
“Nothing.” She moaned breathily.
“You were never a good liar.”
“I’ve never lied to you.”
“But you are now.” I pressed against her vaginal floor from the wrong side, and her knees buckled, “Why?”
“You’re awful inquisitive today, Brock.” Her breathing was becoming rapid, “And you have me at a bit of a disadvantage.”
“Are we sparring with words? What does advantage matter?”
“I have always been forthright with you.” She gasped, “Just because I have a secret, doesn’t mean I’m being deceptive!”
“What happened between you and that whore-governess that’s put you on edge?”
“That ‘whore-governess’ is the mother of your grandchild.”
“Whore-governess, whore-queen; what does it matter?” I growled, pushing and twisting my finger until her rectum was seizing around me with pleasure, “Your kind are all the same in the end. You’re as weak to my finger now as you were on that first night we met, only now you’re not pretending you don’t love it.”
With a whine of immeasurable stress, Yavara gritted her teeth, and thrusted her hips forward. My finger popped free from her ass, and she stumbled as though struck, her legs shaking. Never since I’d known her had Yavara willingly ended an act before orgasm, but she did now. Her face was flushed, her eyes were wild, and her breathing was heavy with desire, but she stayed her compulsions, and straightened.
“I love you, Brock, but if you ever try to coerce information from me again, that finger will be up your own ass, and it will be removed from your hand.”
“Of course, my queen.” I said, bowing my head, “I only wished to know the source of your anxiety so that you could share the burden with me.” I gave her a rueful look, “I don’t want you to think you can’t trust me. I’ve been with you since the beginning.”
Her expression softened. “You’ve been my most loyal man, and it’s not that I don’t trust you; it’s that I don’t know if I can trust myself.” She looked up at causeway that led to Mid Fort, “I know what you want me to do.”
“It doesn’t matter what I want.”
“It does. What you want is what the horde wants. Even in Alkandra, the people cheer for conquest, invasion and vengeance.” She tilted her head, studying the ramp, “You were right about me, I am weak to desire. Even before I became a dark-elf, I was weak to my compulsions. Before sex, it used to be killing that I loved. What does that say about me, I wonder? I’d killed scores of beasts before my seventeenth birthday, and yet I thought Leveria was a monster?”
I just grunted uncomfortably. When Yavara brought up her sister, it was almost always for a moment of introspection that I couldn’t help her with. I knew she feared being compared to Leveria, and I knew in those moments of fear, that she wished I were Elena, or maybe even Adrianna. There was a bond between dark-elves that no one but them could understand. She had hated Thomas Adarian as I had hated him, but she loved Adrianna in a way that she could never love me. It didn’t arise a jealousy within me, but set a cold sorrow in my gut. I glanced at the kitsune fox panting contentedly beside Yavara’s feet, and knew why she’d taken her gift back from me.
“You think it’s weakness to follow the will of your people?” I asked her.
“It’s weakness because I would do it to feel good, not because it is right.”
I pointed at the ridgeline. “The people on that side of the rift will never allow us peace. If you think orc hatred runs deep, then think on your own nation’s odium. A thousand years of occupation, of culling us like wild swine, of keeping us broken and stupid while the rest of the world moved on. They will never settle for peace, my queen. They will never negotiate. They will wait until you’re not watching, and then they’ll cut your throat. Alkandi negotiated a peace deal with the Highlands after her defeat at Castle Thorum. Five-hundred years later, they killed her in her bed.”
“So we should do the same to them?”
“You know I speak the truth. In the end, it’s not about vengeance or justice. It’s about survival.”
Yavara chewed on her lip, and muttered, “There might be a way, Brock, but I have to make sure it’s true.”
“What?”
She shook her head, and tapped her foot as she regarded the fortress. Then she let out an exasperated sigh, and growled, “Good Mother, I’ll just fucking do it myself.”
FIELD MARSHAL SHORDIAN
I had watched Princess Yavara Tiadoa grow up. The whole kingdom had, and she was the delight of a nation. From the adorable adventurous toddler, to the stunning bow-wielding warrior, we’d all marveled at the Highland’s prize jewel. It made the cut that much deeper when we found out who she really was. The last time I’d seen her, she was charming the Noble Court before her solo adventure to the east. Well, that was the last time I’d seen her as Princess Tiadoa. The last time I’d actually seen her was when she was a screaming angel of death hovering over the battlefield, raising her arms in victory as we fled for our lives.
As I watched her through my spyglass from atop the rift, she seemed less like the dark angel. She was in a discussion with Brock, an argument by the irritated tilt of her posture. Then she walked away from him, and meandered to the bottom of the causeway. She looked one way, then the other, then feigned a yawn, and with her cupping hand concealing her muzzle, she snuck her forefinger into her right nostril, and picked her nose. For about thirty seconds, she struggled to flick the booger from her finger. It was passed from her thumbnail to her index nail, refusing to fly off. She finally resigned herself to wiping her hand in the grass, then yelped and started upright when a bullfrog leapt from the spot. She stumbled back, fell on her ass, then hastily got to her feet, whipping her head around to see if anyone had been watching. I chuckled to myself. Her face slowly turned, and from across half a mile of distance, those orange eyes fell on me. I wasn’t chuckling anymore. There was a flash of black, and she was gone. I readjusted my focus on the spyglass, and my entire field of vision was filled with a blazing orange iris.
“Field Marshal Peter Shordian,” the Dark Queen said, “it is rude to spy on a woman.”
I slowly lowered my spyglass. I didn’t feel terror; I never did in the face of death. The terror would come later in the form of panic attacks that left me in a puddle of cold sweat. I suspected there wouldn’t be a later for me, so I just nodded curtly to my harbinger.
“My apologies, Your Highness. I was merely scouting the enemy.”
Yavara chuckled, “If I knew I had a secret admirer, I would’ve worn something more fun.”
I glanced down at the ample exposure of cleavage she had in her leather one-piece, then gave her a frank look. “I don’t know much about women’s armor, but this seems wholly impractical.”
“A woman’s greatest weapon is her beauty.” She looked to the side, “You can tell your mages to back off. I mean you no harm, and there’s not nearly enough of them to make a damn bit of difference if I did.”
I raised my hand, and the surrounding warlocks took a tentative step back. “What is it you want then?” I asked.
“It is custom for entrenched armies to open a line of communication with each other. Since you have not yet done it, I decided to extend the gesture.” She held out her hand, “I believe you have a hand mirror at your hip.” She pointed to the Jonian Spire behind me, its silhouette barely visible from so many miles away, “And I believe it connects to that tower, and that tower connects to another tower, and so on and so forth until we reach the last tower at the top of Castle Bentius, where my sister now resides.”
“You would be correct in believing that.”
“And I assume you have a mirror in your tent.”
“I do.”
“And so that makes this one an extra.” She smiled brightly.
“It does indeed.” I said, and handed it to her.
She took it graciously. “Thank you, Peter. When this war is over, I’ll make sure it’s returned to you.” And then she leapt off the side of the cliff, dove head-first into the ground, and landed on her feet ten stories below me.
General Krakis stepped cautiously beside me. “Did you see—”
“Yes.” I said, “I saw it very well.”
He shook his head, a bewildered expression on his face. “Someday, I’ll sit with my grandchildren on my knee, and recount the story of this war. And when they ask me about the Dark Queen, how will I tell them that the only thing I know about her, is that she bleaches her asshole?”
LEVERIA
“Torture me.” Elena whispered, her voice shaking.
She was spread out on the bed, her wrists and ankles bound to the posts, her magnificent body naked and vulnerable. I’d already placed the clamps on her nipples, and had roped her breasts until they were but purple bulging globes, now separated to display her sternum. Her delicate pussy lips were pulled outward into grotesque triangles of flesh by the clamps I’d placed there, the cold metal biting into her, opening her curtains to expose her moist ruby insides. Her cock was dark with pressure above the ring at her base, squeezing until delicious frosting bubbled from her tip.
“Hush, little bird.” I muttered back to her, laying a dollop of gel on my leather-gloved finger. The gelatinous succubus extract already shined from her tortured nipples and cock, heightening the sensations, suffusing pain and pleasure until she couldn’t tell which was which. “This will loosen you up,” I said, placing my index finger against her puckered pink anus, and pushing inside. She mewled pleasurably as I rotated my finger in her, found her prostate, and pressed against it until her cock was dancing sporadically. When I was sure she’d soaked-in all of the gel, I removed my finger, her anus greedily gripping its exit with a pop.
I hummed musically to myself, and opened my cutlery box. These were the knives I had used on Elena the first time we’d met as enemies, all of them honed to an exact sliver, but there were also other tools.
“This,” I said, pulling out a pear-shaped tool, “is a dilator used by physicians to extract babies stuck in their mother’s wombs.” I smiled in remembrance, “Funnily enough, it was last used on my own mother.” I looked up at Elena, and saw the beautiful harmony of fear and excitement on her face. I lowered the contraption to her anus, “I got it all the way to four turns with her, but you’re made differently. I am curious to see how much you will open for me.”
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