Author's Note: No need to read previous chapters at all to enjoy this one (this is a sequel to the world of the Eternity in Bonds series)
*
Her time in Dominia had surprised Nessa. As it turned out, most of the women there were not collared. Only the scouts, and those with a similar physique of Nessa. There were even large, warrior women who were not collared at all, and considered on equal terms, if not better, than the men in the armies. She later found that among the multitude, only a minority were similarly marked with immortality.
It was nigh time to go out on campaign. Nessa, along with a contingent of her fellow girls, all marked with the sign of the orchid, were sent to the armories upon waking up one day.
Nessa marveled at the barracks around her. It was amazing how the Dominions incorporated women into their armies. She hefted a large mace; it dropped immediately after its release from its resting place on the shelf. Mostly as scouts though, but still.
Anwen, her compatriot approached her with a teasing smirk. "Nessa, what were you thinking? The dirt of the Midland woods don't have the skill to use heavy weapons even if they could lift them. You dunce."
"Anwen, you have no faith. Have you not heard tell of the Emesomian warriors in the Southern Forests?"
"Of course, sister. It is remarkable that such a short distance away, and your bodies and culture are so different." Anwen removed a light wooden bow from the shelf instead. Admiring it, she noted that it was well crafted, and sturdy. "A good weapon for a scout-maiden," she proclaimed, brandishing the weapon at her fellow slave.
"Maiden?" Nessa scoffed, taking the bow with mild shame. "I am but a weak slave of the Army of Dominion. Do not forget your place sister. There are many who would take our places on this journey." Impressed, she realized Anwen was right. The weapon was light and supple, perfect for her nimble bow. She picked up a well-fashioned light-steel dagger to accompany it.
"Perhaps you are weak. I am as strong as any man." Anwen shrugged, blowing her hair out of her eyes. "Where are you from anyway? You have a faint Aeternian accent. How have you come to the Eastern Reaches?"
"This is war. The Lord General himself brought me here." She paused. "I was an Aeternian sex doll for months. Trust me, the men, and conditions here are far better." Nessa turned. "The Protectorum Aeternum is done for. Their great city is crumbling, and the lower reaches are crime-infested and just as dangerous as the battlefield."
Anwen whistled. "Well, then the conditions are not far better than they are in the north. The Wyken tribes I came from -- they battle with such frequency and hatred that we never moved past shantytowns and hut-communities. They stood no chance against the Great Empire once they arrived." Anwen hefted a large battleaxe, grunting as she swung, getting a feel for the weapon.
It was Nessa's turn to inquire. "You a shieldmaiden? Of the tribes?" She needed belts and straps for this equipment, and she talked while she worked.
"Ah, little slave girl, I used to cleave the men in half with my greataxe. It took five men to restrain me and bind me to this place." Nessa glared at her angrily. Anwen sneered. "What, little girl? It's not like you can beat me even if you tried."
Nessa was forced to admit defeat. She was right, of course; she had hardly fired a bow before, and even less so swung a dagger. Glowering, the slave vowed to get her revenge on the taller warrior.
Smirking with arrogance, Anwen returned to her gear, wrapping a warrior's belt and loin-guard around her waist, thus protecting her private areas from the harsh environment. She then donned a furred mantle, and finally, wore a horned halo. As she put it on, it acclimated to her stature, and floated above her head, brimming with purple energy. "They used to call me the Widowmaker, and that was without all this war-tech. What chance do the Aeternians have against this, I wonder?"
Nessa, silently agreed. Indeed, she had seen little of the other sides' capabilities that would warrant concern. It appears this war would be easily won. She moved to the scout's section, and was both dismayed and pleased to find that the only armor provided here provided little protection, if at all, against the elements. She could only find a tight, black bikini, and, to her delight, a high-tech pair of Balanced Open-toed sandals. The soles were made of a form-fitting volcanic-leather, designed to grip surfaces with little to no wear. Originating from her forested woodland, and made with the sap-imbued Glowing Oaks, they were used by ancient moonlight-archers in the Age of Awakening. She thought the technology had been long-lost to time; the victors of that war, the accursed Aeternum, had done their best to disperse the ancient libraries in her homeland of old, reducing it to a poverty-stricken, shadow of its former self.
Grabbing a similarly crafted pair of open-fingered gloves and nocking her bow with an old woodland rune, she prepared to take her revenge against such a hated foe.
Putting on her fur-rimmed boots, the Northern warrior gave Nessa a long look while she dressed. At last, turning around, beaming, Nessa struck a pose. "How do I look, Ms. Warriorpants?"
That earned a grunt from the other woman. "The black matches your tanned skin... "
The warrior gestured with her weapon. "... but you're way too skinny. Can you even fire an arrow?"
"The bowstring is imbued with old magic. I wouldn't expect one such as you to understand."
With a hmph, Anwen grabbed her axe. "Keep your dainty forest secrets then. I have no need for them anyway." She made her way out of the fitting-room.
Looking around, Nessa only needed a few extra pieces of gear. Grabbing a quiver and arrows, she belted them around her midsection, and realized with pleasure that it was made of the same form-fitting technology as her collar, adhering to the curves of her body and reshaping itself to assure it does not encumber its wearer during battle. The bikini responded in kind, and with a gasp of pleasure, she felt the entire setup coil around her body and secure itself with satisfying security. She felt like she was back in the dungeons, being tied up by master, bringing a smile to the slave's lips.
Attaching her blades to the straps on her battle-bikini and equipping several small smoke-puffs, she followed her companion out of the barracks.
A high-ranking officer was awaiting her. He bowed upon seeing her exit.
"Come, eternal one. Follow me to the Lord's council."
She really was not used to this deferential treatment, and to be honest, she really preferred to be called a slave. Nessa followed. She could feel a cold breeze waft across her exposed skin. It tussled her short hair slightly.
They reached the black cathedral that was to be their meeting place that day. Entering the heavy onyx doors, the duo approached an elaborate, black-metallic table command table, with a procession of Lords, Warlocks, and of course, the Lord General himself at the head. She felt the cold of the polished stone flooring beneath the thin layer of leather between her feet and the ground. Her toes gripped the surface with satisfying ease. She felt agile and swift, and could not hear her own footsteps.
They looked up upon hearing the heavy footfalls of the officer beside her. Malachar smiled.
"Late, but fashionable, huh Nessa?" He looked at her, taking in her beauty and excited by the tight straps and collar she was in. "Ready to fuck our enemies to death?"
The men around him laughed, and to Nessa's embarrassment, so did Anwen, who had taken her place beside a large man dressed in a bear-head's helm. She could see the mens' trousers stretching, and decided to change the topic before things got unproductive.
"I was told I was to lead the scouts of our great army, Lord General?" She swept a bow with this statement, bending like a cat.
"Take your thong off. "
She did as he said, and with a grunt, managed to pry the tight black thong loose.
"My goodness you're weak." He produced what was essentially an extreme micro g-string with a dildo attached to the ass end. "Wear these instead. I picked them out for you specifically."
She approached with curiosity. The dildo was not significant, only about 5 inches in length. It was formed of a strange material however, but it felt comfortable and flexible nevertheless. As she held it, it seemed to automatically excrete a thin layer of oils. Her master approached her from behind, and jammed a finger into her anus, oiling it; after the procedure, she seemed to have mysteriously lost the urge to defecate, and thus her holes were forever cleansed.
Feeling that her master was done, she put on the thong, and plunged the dildo in, gasping softly with pleasure as it secured itself. The new thong, she realized, would keep the dildo discreetly hidden from prying eyes.
"This will help us keep you under control," her master explained. "Should you try to run or do anything without our consent, we have complete control over the device, and to an extension, your body. We may also see fit to give... rewards..." The device vibrated briefly, eliciting a long moan from the girl.
He leaned forward. "We will be watching, Nessa." Seeing the apprehension on the girl's face, the man smiled, tapped her sleek collar, and walked away. "I expect only the best recon from you and the girls, you hear me? The best. Do not let me down."
The gates closed behind him, leaving her alone in the expansive cathedral, reveling at her own helplessness.
It was time. The great legions rode out, horsemen in black plate and the legions of Dominion -- all formidably armed in weapons glowing with purple potency. Griffins soared overhead and she even heard tell of a large dragon that was to be the Lord General's personal mount. As if he needed one, she thought. The man was potent enough as he was.
She looked back. She had already met her sisters, and her lieutenants, Bellana and Aurica. They led their force of 200 -- all girls marked with the twin flowers. They were all as slim as Nessa, wearing the same gear and collar, and riding horned deer, the native creatures of the Midland wood. These rare mounts were traditionally gifted to the Empire every Lunar Crossing -- a solar eclipse.
