Daughter of the Sun

IN THE PREVIOUS CHAPTERS:

A Messenger of Night, an evil entity evoked by the spells of the Night Lord has appeared to Queen Artemis of Troygrove and turned her into a slave for the forces of Darkness.

During the night, Artemis has been heavily indoctrinated and instructed by her new Master about His vision for the future and about the commands and the plan that the Queen of Troygrove will have to execute...and that will lead to the ultimate goal of the Night Lord: the enslavement of Hailey Val Lumenar, Queen of Syfall and Daughter of the Sun.

And now, not having revealed such plans to anyone, Artemis is preparing to turn them into a reality....

https://literotica.com/s/daughter-of-the-sun-ch-03

***

The gentle blow of the breeze, coming from the open window, delicately roused the young woman from her deep sleep. Shaking her head, feeling her mind still slowed down and dazed by the depths of her recent unconsciousness, Alanor blinked confusingly while looking around the room. She was still sitting at her desk, in her private chambers inside of the Royal Palace of Troygrove, in the same identical place in which she had so suddenly fallen asleep the night before.

Filtered by the curtains at the windows, the light of the morning dimly illuminated her apartment, revealing all around a huge mess of books and of other diverse stuff; hundredths of scattered parchments, piles of dusty and crumbling scrolls, an indefinite number of mystical amulets of different metals and shapes, crystal pendants and many other bizarre trinkets were chaotically sparse throughout the whole environment, submerging shelves, tables, chairs, as well as a significant portion of the floor. All of such items constituted her tools of study and work, as it was appropriate for a sorceress like her.

At the young age of twenty-four, Alanor already held a prominent position at the court of Troygrove. Not only she was the personal sorceress of the Queen but, being the younger sister of Queen Alexandra Rosendhal of Heat Hill, she was also invested of the role of official ambassador of her home city's in the court of Artemis. In this double role, Princess Alanor was therefore a permanent member of the Queen's councils, alongside to the other two most strict advisors of Artemis: the Lord Commander Bardas, leader of the land army, and the Grand Admiral Nyphoros, supervisor of the military and mercantile fleet.

Alanor was a petite girl, her thin and slim build giving her the ethereal and graceful appearance of a lovely fairy, with long, reddish-brown hair which she was used to wear divided into two braids which were left falling freely on her chest, over her small, tiny, exquisite breast. Her eyes, of the same light silver-gray as the ones of her older sister Alexandra, where live with acumen and intelligence.

Since her arrival in Troygrove, three years earlier, after her sister had decided to send her as a replacement for the old ambassador, Alanor's delicate beauty had aroused the attention of more than one of the men of the court. Even the two most trusted advisors of Queen Artemis couldn't remain indifferent to her charm. The Lord Commander Bardas, in particular, seemed to be literally obsessed with her, and had repeatedly and insistently tried to woo her without success. While Alanor did not disdain the company and attentions of males, she greatly preferred those of much younger men and, with his fifty-six years of age, the old Lord Commander could not have any chance to win the heart of the beautiful Princess of Heath Hill.

Feeling utterly stunned, as if she had been remained asleep for days, Alanor turned her gaze down at her desk; the Treatise on Aquatic Evocations, the old ponderous tome she was studying the night before, was still open at the same page she was reading where she had been caught by surprise by an irresistible sleep.

Gently, Alanor ran her small hand over a page, caressing it almost with reverence. It was an incredibly complex and fascinating text; written centuries ago by an enchantress of old times named Amarezen, it contained the secrets and the arcane formulas to summon and control the powerful creatures and the mysterious inhabitants of the abyssal depths. The skilled hand of an unknown artist had adorned those ancient pages so filled with minute calligraphy with precious friezes and detailed illustrations, further embellishing the book.

A subtle yet evident aura of alluring eroticism exuded from those images, as if the author had taken an unusual, perverted pleasure in imagining and depicting such scenes on the parchment pages. Two naked women, sitting on the rocks by the sea, embracing each other as if they have been caught in the middle of an intercourse, seemed to be on the verge of an overwhelming orgasm, as they were portrayed in the process of being enchanted and enraptured by the charming voice of a voluptuous mermaid, who was emerging from the waist up from the water at their feet. Their eyes were wide open, their expressions completely fascinated, their body muscles tense with the desire to throw themselves into the water in order to join that wonderful creature of the seas. On another page, a group of nude male figures were displaying powerful erections while struggling for freedom against the monstrous tentacles of an abyssal gigantic octopus-like creature, their coils wrapped around their waists, wrists and ankles, capturing them and bringing them down to the depths of the ocean.

Alanor shivered, feeling uneasy. The Cultists of the Abyss were a sect whose origins dated back to very ancient times, when Troygrove was still only one of the numerous small fishing villages along the ocean coast. They used to worship the creatures of the sea depths as divinities, and voluntarily sacrificed their most beautiful sons and daughters to them, hoping to obtain protection, prosperity and power in this way. Amarezen herself had been a prominent follower of that aberrant cult, and she had offered in first person countless sacrifices of boys and girls to the abyssal creatures.

To Alanor's eyes, it was evident how also the illustrator of the book was a devoted member of that horrible cult. Although the cult had officially become extinct centuries earlier, some of its followers were believed to still exist today...some were said to be hidden even among the ranks of the clergy of Neryss.

The young sorceress of Heath Hill shook her head once more, trying in vain to get rid of that sense of confusion which was still slowing down her mind. Everything she had experienced during the night was very unusual, she thought while distracting her eyes from the pages of the book. It wasn't like her to fall asleep so suddenly in the middle of her studying, even at a such a late hour; and even in the dream she had, there was something obscure and unnatural, something which had disturbed her deeply within.

In her dream, she had found herself in an enigmatic and mysterious place; it had the resemblance of a temple, a sort of artificial island of white marble emerging out of the nothing from the very midst of the ocean, whose high, decorated porticoes and majestic inlaid columns opened onto a full view of the infinite sea on all the four sides.

Together with her there was Patrus, her dear, beloved Patrus; a young and exuberant stallion of twenty-nine, absolutely the most beautiful soldier of Queen Artemis's guards, with long blonde hair and an intriguing and seducing smile which could drive her crazy...the only man she had ever regularly welcomed in her bed since her arrival in Troygrove.

The relationship existing between the Princess and the soldier couldn't be called exactly a love bond, but was rather a mutual, intoxicatingly strong physical attraction, which induced them to mate like wild animals for hours at any possible given chance. Their eyes had met for the first time the same day Alanor arrived in Troygrove. Patrus had been part of the piquet of honor that had welcomed the Princess at her arrival in the courtyard of the Royal Palace, and Alanor had caught his inviting smile in the very moment in which she had put her foot on the ground, while dismounting from her carriage.

They had ended up in bed together two nights later. Patrus was an utterly energetic lover and an experienced dominator of women in bed; Alanor had quickly learnt since that day how to submit to his masculine vigor and how to satisfy every of his desires gladly.

Alanor was not naïve, and she had no the minimum illusions about the nature of their affair. She was perfectly aware to represent for him only one of his many feminine conquests, nothing more than a toy, albeit the noblest and most prestigious of all.

On his side, Patrus did not hesitate to openly boast about his many sexual prowess, even right in front of her. His not-so-secret dream was to own one day in his bed none other than Queen Artemis herself. "If Her Majesty were not that cold piece of ice she is, and if she ever showed the slightest interest in cock, I would know how to make her enjoy herself properly" he had said to Alanor one night, while the two of them were laying together under the sheets, recovering after an intense hour of passionate lovemaking. "In the meanwhile, two nights ago I've finally claimed for me that magnificent piece of ass of Yamile, one of the Queen's personal slaves. What a sublime riding. In a certain sense, it was like filling the asshole of the Queen herself!" he had concluded laughing, bringing a cup of wine to his lips as to celebrate his own triumph.

It was true, in a certain sense. Like all of Artemis's personal slaves, also Yamile had been chosen for her extreme resemblance to the Queen. It was well known throughout the Palace how Artemis loved only and exclusively herself, how she had a sort of narcissistic personal cult of her own image, and that all the slaves who sometimes shared her bed with her should be as much like her as possible. The make-up, the haircut and, in some cases, a wig, transformed the slave girls into almost perfect lookalikes of the Queen.

To Alanor, it didn't matter that Patrus could share the pleasures of the bed with other women, as long as he was ready to make himself available to her whenever she was feeling the heat spreading through her senses. She loved especially being taken from behind, roughly and with strong decision. The sensation of his hard manhood buried and ramming in her forbidden entrance, was often more than sufficient to throw her over the edge without the need of any other stimulation. Patrus had demanded her anal virginity right on their first night of passion and, thus scared, Alanor had been too excited to deny this to him. From that night onwards she had been the one begging him to fuck her like that again at any possible given chance.

There were also other times in which she loved to service him with her lips only, enjoying the idea of donating to her lover the whole entirety of the physical pleasure, allowing him to relax and do nothing, except to let loose his seed freely in her welcoming mouth, down to her throat, once she had made him reach the peak of his ecstasy.

And that was precisely what happened in her dream during that night. Alone, in that sort of temple in the midst of the ocean, the two lovers were nude, and Alanor was knelt in front of him, delighting him with her servicing mouth. In the last spasms of his mighty orgasm, Patrus had pulled his manhood out, allowing to his last, abundant jets of seed to coat all over the sorceress's face. The warm, dense liquid had slowly dripped onto her chin, forming white rivulets which had cascaded over her neck, over her small breast, before falling in large, heavy drops onto her firm, slender thighs.

With a dreamy smile on her delicate face, she had lowered her eyes to admire that magnificent masterpiece, that wondrous demonstration of masculine virility dripping all over her naked body. She loved receiving such a treatment; it made her feel dirty, but also so terribly desired and possessed by a man.

But, when she had raised her gaze again, she had noticed how the features of her lover had suddenly changed. Not Patrus anymore, but a total stranger was standing before her, his long, thick black hair falling to his shoulders, his turgid member pointing imperiously towards her mouth.

Turning her head for a moment in confusion she had realized that, while Patrus seemed to have disappeared into the nothingness, other men had now made their sudden appearance in the temple. Men of all ethnicities, of different skin colors, each one so diverse than the other but in a certain sense also all so strangely similar, their muscular and sculpted bodies which seemed to be almost perfect copies of each other. And all of them were showing the same, powerful erection as the unknown man in front of her.

Alanor had felt the black-haired stranger's hand gently caressing her head, in a silent recall for her attention, while the newcomers had slowly surrounded her from all sides, preventing her any way out. None of them had uttered a single word, yet their desire and demand was obviously evident: they all wanted to be serviced by her.

At first Alanor had remained puzzled, not sure about how to react in that unusual situation, being nude, alone and knelt in the middle of that circle of horny, silent men. Then, obeying to some unconscious impulse, as it was the most logical and natural thing for her to do, she had humbly begun to try to please as many as possible at once as best as she could, putting to their service both of her hands and her mouth, without any protest.

All of those men were already over excited by their own, and it was so easy for her to quickly drive them over the edge. Her mouth, so warm and devoted, her slow and lovingly strokes, were more than sufficient to bring the men rapidly to their climax, making their hot and abundant jets of seed to spurt freely all over her body like a storm of warm white rain, adding their virile tribute to the one with which Patrus had already honored her shortly before.

The men who had enjoyed her ministrations had dissolved into the air, as if they had been made of smoke and fog; but for each man who disappeared, three new ones immediately appeared to take his place. And the more men appeared, the uglier and more brutal they seemed to become.

And soon, Alanor had found herself to be totally surrounded by an horde of horrible individuals, more similar to beasts than humans. Fat, hairy men with long, greasy hair and shaggy, unkempt beards which made them to appear like troglodytes, their expressions stupid, primitive and cruel. From the moment of their appearing, they had began to scream ferociously at her with their thundering and booming voices, demanding harshly to be served immediately, calling her a slut and a slave and giving her many other offensive and degrading names.

In the vain attempt to calm their exaggerated fury, Alanor had immediately set to work as best she could, feeling soon the panic begin to take hold of her. Those beastly men were greatly scaring her, and they were getting so many, too many for her to handle. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't simply satisfy them all. And their rage against her was mounting even more, as their circle closed around her, becoming more stringent. She had started to feel suffocated between those prominent bellies, between those huge, sweaty and smelly cocks, pressing against her from all sides. A sense of disgusted nausea almost had overcome her senses, yet, inexplicably, she found herself to be as most intensely aroused as ever.

A sudden slap of an enormous callous hand had hit her violently in the face, an harsh punishment for her excessive slowness of service; yet, instead of finding it hurting her and insulting for her dignity of Princess, it only served to increase her excitement even more. A part of her knew that she had deserved it, and found it only right. Silently, Alanor had thanked for that slap, an useful reminder of her position of submission toward the masters who were surrounding her.

With renewed energy she went back to her work, eager to do whatever she could to please that mass of savage men as much as she could, feeling waves of growing satisfaction and complacency within herself whenever she managed to make one of them to unload his masculine seed all over her, making the men grunting and groaning like animals.

To her delight, she had found that those men were capable to ejaculate more than the previous, nicer ones who surrounded her at first, much more even than Patrus himself, each single orgasm of them causing her to be invested by a splashing wave of warm semen. By that time, Alanor had made cum at least forty of such men, and she was now completely covered in their fluids, her reddish hair soaked and sticky to her forehead, not an inch of entire body being preserved from that bath of copious and malodorous yet delightful male essence.

Alanor had felt herself to become almost like drunk, exhilarated. Yet, she felt she simply could not have enough of this. She wanted more, much more. Grasping two of those big, meaty shafts with both of her hands, not pausing stroking them neither for a moment, she had found herself encouraging and inviting them to use her more as a receptacle for their seed, calling them masters and begging them for more.

But even such a full display of commitment and submission wasn't enough; the lust of those wild animals and their desire to abuse her seemed to be implacable. And within few minutes those ugly men could no longer stand what they judged to be her unforgivable slowness anymore. Under a storm of spits, slaps, intermixed with obscene insults, the men had brutally forced her to her feet, while Alanor had screamed in terror, falling prey of the purest panic as they had lifted her bodily.

Then, without any warning, without the minimum preparation, two of them had roughly penetrated her from both sides at the same time, their bestial rods forcing her inner parts to stretch to the point to be torn apart. Alanor had screamed in agony, almost fainting as her body was mercilessly violated with savage force, as the two brutes started to ram violently into her.

But within few moments, the pain caused by the sudden, double penetration had been replaced by a wild, overwhelming, intoxicating pleasure. As Alanor's mind broke down into pieces, she had found herself beginning to moan and scream with total abandon, surrendering herself completely to the pleasure that the dominion that those ugly men were exerting over her was causing. Her eyes had closed with rapture as she bounced passionately on their rods, screaming her pleasure with high, passionate voice, begging them for more, her fingers tangled in the dirty hair of the man who was so brutally owning her anus from behind.

She loved them, she realized as she was getting fucked by those wild beasts; she loved being treated in that way, ruthlessly abused as the slut and slave she was. Such thoughts made her enjoy herself obscenely, in a way that not even Patrus had ever managed to make her do.

And then she had orgasmed. Badly. Throwing her head back in a final act of utter abandon, Alanor had let out her loudest cry, her slender body stiffening and shaking, held firmly between the men's two massive bodies, their seed pumping forcefully and massively into both of her holes.

At that point of the dream she had fainted, and the deepest darkness had enveloped her mind as she sank into the oblivion of total unconsciousness. But before everything faded away her senses had captured some last bits of images and sounds...a deep, inhuman gurgling voice uttering words in an arcane and unintelligible language...and a sudden image of Queen Artemis, naked, immersed up to her thighs in some kind of black liquid. The Queen was evidently aroused, one of her hands grabbing and squeezing one of her magnificent breast, while the fingers of the other were immersed deep inside her womanhood, pleasuring herself. Artemis was moaning, her eyes closed, her mind elsewhere, unaware of the black liquid that slowly was rising in level, reaching her waist at first, then her breasts, her neck, until it swallowed her completely.