πŸ“š daugther of the sun Part 10 of 2
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MIND CONTROL

Daugther Of The Sun Ch 10

Daugther Of The Sun Ch 10

by a_o_dots
19 min read
4.8 (2900 views)
adultfiction

IN THE PREVIOUS CHAPTERS...

The first signs of the threat that is about to strike the Kingdom of Heath Hill begin to seriously worry Queen Alexandra, while the first troops of the Night Lord begin to appear in the South, in the depths of the Tharsis forest.

Alexandra, however, is unaware that a further threat is about to fall on her Kingdom from the West. Troygrove, the ancient rival city believed to have long been pacified, is preparing for a surprise attack plotted by Artemis, the first of the Sovereigns of Mur to have fallen under the evil influence of the Night Lord.

And so, while General Bardas is given the order to prepare the ground troops, Admiral Nyphoros is given the command to prepare the fleet. Heath Hill, a city in the hinterland, is evidently not the only target in the conquest plans of Artemis and her Dark Lord...

https://www.literotica.com/s/daugther-of-the-sun-ch-09

***

The wooden gangway was lowered from the edge of the ship, allowing to Nyphoros and to few of the men of his crew to descend to the stone pier below.

The scorching sun of the mid afternoon was hammering heavily from the cloudless sky above. With a snort, the old Admiral of the Royal Fleet of Troygrove passed a napkin over his bald head to wipe off the drops of sweat which had cumulated over his skin, as he looked around at that inhospitable landscape.

In a distant past, there may have been once a thick coral reef all around the island that gave it its name but, even if that had been the case, nothing of it remained today. Coral Cove was mostly an arid island, just a huge piece of barren rock emerging from the cold ocean water.

A few trees and shrubs, mostly dried by the sun, climbed around the large central hill, on top of which an old sandstone castle, its walls and towers half-ruined by the passing of the centuries, dominated the view.

The island lay amidst the waters several miles to the west of Troygrove, and it was actually the last piece of land that a ship sailing from the continent of Mur in the direction of the sunset could have encountered, before finally entering into the open vastness of the Ocean.

Few ship captains, however, dared to approach that place on their own initiative. Thus it was formally included within the dominion of Troygrove, the island was actually a no man's land and, as a matter of fact, it had been elected since at least two centuries as a refuge by pirates, slave traders and various other kind of criminals, who had used it as an hidden, operative base from where to conduct their dirty dealings.

Getting too close to those shores could almost certainly meant losing the ship, the freedom and in some cases even the life. Nyphoros himself had been forced to display a special identification banner on the top of the ship's mast while approaching, to avoid the risk being immediately attacked in the moment in which his ship would have been spotted by the island's inhabitants.

The Admiral descended to the pier, observing with poorly concealed disgust the small town that stretched at the foot of the hill, along the bay, made up mostly of shacks and semi-ruined and dilapidated houses, the temporary shelters of all the scum that infested the island.

Followed by his men, he started to walk along the quay, looking at the great number of docked ships, of various sizes and all with exotic and threatening names painted on the bows, all of them belonging to buccaneers, pirates, slavers and smugglers.

Their presence had very often represented a blight for the commerces of Troygrove. But, when needed, such a scum could also have proved to be extremely useful. More than once in the past, Nyphoros had engaged in shady dealings with the inhabitants of Coral Cove. Sometimes, he did so on behalf of the Crown; much more often, for some of his own exquisite, illicit, personal interests.

He grinned with satisfaction when he spotted what he was hoping to find. A long ship with a fast appearance and a low deck, whose bulwarks were completely lacquered in black. The figurehead was highly emblematic; it depicted a woman with the clear features of an inhabitant of the Isle of the Lotus, naked and chained by her wrists and ankles to the bow, her lips open in a silent cry of despair.

A gold-painted inscription stood out on the ship's side near the bow, revealing its name: 'The Brothel of Hadun'.

The ship was completely silent and devoid of any sign of life; the gangplank was raised, and apparently no one was standing on deck at the moment. Bringing his fingers to his mouth, Nyphoros tried to whistle a call, hoping to attract the attention of anyone who could have been onboard.

"Admiral Nyphoros!" a thundering voice called for him almost in response, yet not from the direction he was expecting.

Looking to his left, Nyphoros spotted a small group of disreputable-looking men, rough, dirty and half-naked. At their head was a tall, extremely obese man with thick hair and a long beard, both black like the clothes and the high, poloshed boots he was wearing. A large gold earring, a circular ring almost as wide as a bracelet, hung from his right earlobe.

Nyphoros knew the man very well. During his life he had both fought the fiercest battles against him and made the most lucrative business deals with him. He was the quintessence of all the scum that infested the island, the very embodiment of all the criminal activities that took place here.

"What an incredible, unexpected pleasure to see you again in Coral Cove," the man said with exaggerated enthusiasm, approaching the Admiral while showing a smile in which several teeth were missing. "Your appearance on our shores is usually bearer of good news."

"Khadmos," he replied, greeting the man and shaking his enormous hand, thus without much enthusiasm. "Also this time, I bring good news for you, you old scum; opportunity for loot and profit, as well as the one to properly serve Her Majesty for once."

"That sounds more than excellent," replied that black-bearded mound of fat, rubbing his hands adorned with an impressive quantity of rings with a flash of greed in his eyes. "And we are always happy to be able to prove ourselves as faithful subjects of Her Majesty. Isn't that true, guys?"

A roar of raucous laughter arose from that group of grim individuals, and Nyphoros noticed more than one of them vulgarly commenting on how they would have preferred to service their Queen, placing a hand on their crotches and squeezing them vigorously.

The fat pirate turned back again to the Admiral.

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"So, in which way some humble and honest sailors like us can be of service to our beloved Queen?"

"All the necessary information you need to know will be provided you soon enough," replied Nyphoros, clearly unwilling to share the details with that ugly and treacherous man there, in the middle of the quay and in front of his horrible crew of debauched thugs.

"But first, I need to talk with the twins," the Admiral added, pointing with his chin at the ship with the black hull. "Have you seen them around?"

"Of course, you can find them at the 'Dancing Octopus'", Khadmos replied, as a malicious grin distorted his ugly face. "They have docked yesterday, with a huge load of slaves they have captured from some of the villages along the coasts of the Hurlands and who they have sold to us. Since then, they have closed themselves in that tavern to celebrate the success of their raid with their crew, and still haven't come out."

Nyphoros nodded. He knew that ignominious place very well, and knew the way to get there. He signaled to his men to move on and follow him.

"But please, before you go, would you be maybe interested in having a look at some of the best articles they have brought?" Khadmos added, before Nyphoros could have resumed his walking. "We have plenty of nice and fresh ones, women of extraordinary beauty, who I'm sure will be able to...pique your interests, Great Admiral."

Nyphoros did not normally frequent the slave markets, owning already enough of them in his villa in Troygrove to meet his every need. This time, however, he decided nevertheless to take a look, more out of curiosity than for any other reason, and for the remote but ever-present possibility of finding some valuable piece that might have proved in the end to be a good deal.

Anyway, as already happened in the past more than once, Nyphoros was forced to see once again how Khadmos' promises were nothing more than mere lies and mendacious words. The mass of slaves who had been gathered naked inside a pen, packed together like captured animals, was a truly poor, miserable and pathetic sight to behold.

Except maybe for a couple of girls in their early twenties, most of the women were absolutely unattractive and no longer in the prime of their youth since many years. Many of them were flabby or clearly overweight, their bodies distorted by the numerous pregnancies they must have had over the course of their lives. There were also a few stout, bearded men, all with idiotic expressions on their faces, all clearly inhabitants of the semi-barbaric villages of the northern coasts.

All of these could be used at most as labor slaves, to be used for work of fatigue within vineyards and plantations, thought the Admiral by looking at that miserable mass. Nyphoros didn't need any of them.

Only a single one of them, very different from all the others, caught his attention. A slender, ebony-skinned Marwan boy, kept at a certain distance from the others, who unlike the other prisoners didn't seem to show any signs of discomfort or desperation for his conditions of captivity. Quietly, he was sitting on his heels, the palms of his hands resting on his knees and his head bowed, almost as if he were immersed in deep meditation.

Generally, Nyphoros didn't hold any interest in boys, but this time a strange sense of curiosity induced him to want to have a closer look. However, as he got closer to observe him better, Nyphoros realized that who he had from a distance mistaken for a boy, was in reality a full grown woman; the very short hair, the small but evident muscles under the dark skin, the tiny, almost non-existent breasts had deceived him. Her black skin was a complex tangle of tattoos.

For a moment the woman raised her gaze, looking at Nyphoros from behind the fence of the pens with a pair of deep, beautiful amber eyes, in which a sort of soft, golden light seemed to shine, before lowering it again in a sign of mute submission, while a half smile curled her full and soft lips.

The Admiral liked very much everything he saw. Deciding to talk to her, he motioned to the slaver who was guarding the entrance of the pen to open the fence for him.

"What's your name?" he addressed the woman roughly, once he had stepped inside.

"The name of this slave of yours," she answered with a warm, sensual voice, unexpectedly deep and strong for a woman of her small size, "is Zaya, my Lord."

Nyphoros took some moments to better observe her tatoos. Sinuous snakes coiled around her arms and legs, in complex weavings that also spread over her stomach, chest, shoulders and back, covering almost the whole totality of her body. Only the neck and face were left free and clean from drawings. A large, monstrous eye, depicted wide open with incredible intensity, was tattooed in the center of her chest, surrounded by a mass of disturbing, greenish tentacles.

Nyphoros had already seen tattoos like these before, during his long travels across foreign lands.

"Are you a snake-priestess of Xanadu?" he asked.

"I am," she confirmed, proudly, lifting for a moment her beautiful face toward him. "My father is the High Priest Lomako, of the great Holy City of Lakha, in the southern region of the Kingdom of Marwe."

Now Nyphoros' curiosity and interest were doubly increased.

"How have you ended here, for sale in the slave market of Coral Cove?" he wanted to know.

"It's a long story, my Lord," the woman said, lowering her head again, in her calm voice. "But it will be my pleasure to tell you everything in detail, if this is your wish."

"Look at her, guys!" laughed the slaver who was guarding the pen. "In all these months, I've never seen this slut showing herself so submissive towards a potential buyer. Your bald head and your whitened beard must have impressed her, you old sea dog."

Nyphoros simply ignored the joke.

"Stand up," he ordered to the knelt girl.

The slave rose on her feet. She was a woman of very small stature, even shorter than him, who was certainly not a giant.

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Slowly, Nyphoros walked around her, carefully observing her in every close detail. From a first guess, she must have been between twenty-five and thirty years of age. Tattoos aside, her smooth skin was completely untouched, showing no signs of whippings on her back, nor of any other physical abuse.

With the experience of an accustomed slave-owner, he palpated her in different parts of the body, testing the consistency and robustness of her flesh and muscles, eventually concluding that the young woman was decidedly strong and in excellent health.

Moreover, Nyphoros didn't miss the tremors that ran through the woman's body as he touched her, exploring her. And from the curve of her lips and from her small, suddenly hardened nipples, the Admiral understood that they could be nothing more than quivers of excitement. The woman evidently enjoyed the touch of his hand on her. And Nyphoros liked all of this very much.

"Her price is of two hundred pieces of gold," said the slaver, noticing his interest. Then, observing maliciously where the Admiral's hand was last placed, he added. "Two hundred pieces of gold to have in your bed this amazing piece of ebony ass to fuck whenever you desire."

Fucking ignorant idiot, thought Nyphoros with contempt. A woman of such lineage was more, much more worthy than such a miserable amount he was asking for. Not to mention her potential political value. As far as he knew, High Priest Lomako was the second most powerful man in the Kingdom of Marwe, second only to Queen Jadhara herself. Who knew that having one of his daughters in his hands might not have been useful in the future.

"I'll buy her," he finally decided, while the woman listened to his decision, bowing her head with deference and showing a fleeting smile of satisfaction.

Once the payment was completed, the slavers removed the woman's heavy iron rings that blocked her neck and wrists, handing her over to her new Master. Nyphoros instructed his men to take her to the ship and to place her in his cabin, deciding in that moment to continue his mission alone, carrying only a heavy bag which he took from one of his companions.

"Before I go," he whispered to Khadmos. "I have some other business I would like to run."

He paused for a moment, waiting for his men to have moved away, clearly embarrassed from what he was about to say.

"Do you have some of...that thing?" he asked eventually.

"But of course, Admiral," the fat pirate exclaimed with enthusiasm. "Freshly arrived straight from the southern coast of Antaros. It won't disappoint you, I promise."

He signaled to one of his companions, who took in response a small leather pouch from a pile of bags and chests, which he then threw to the Admiral who caught it on fly.

Nyphoros took a look at the fine, greenish dust contained inside. Shredded root of the Boleas tree, a powerful remedy against male impotence, a disease of which the fifty-year-old Admiral had been suffering for almost two decades.

"This one is enhanced," Khadmos confided with a conspiratorial air. "Just one sniff and your tool will turn as straight as the mainmast of your ship in less than half an hour. The whore you have just purchased will surely scream for your mercy, tonight."

For that little bag of dust, Nyphoros paid far more gold than he had spent for the woman earlier. Tying the pouch to his belt, he waved farewell to Khadmos and his gang of pirates and slave traders and resumed his walk along the bay, in the direction of the 'Dancing Octopus'.

Sounds of coarse laughter, of glasses strongly colliding with each other and obscene imprecations, all mixed with an overwhelming music of a violin, rhythmic clapping of hands and feminine moans came to his ears as he approached the dilapidated inn, a two-story building located almost at the very edge of the quay.

On the rough wooden sign above the door was painted a large, black octopus, holding in one of its tentacles the handle of a large mug of beer, while another one was wrapped around the waist of a cheerful, laughing naked woman.

Nyphoros pushed the small door open and stepped inside, as his nose got immediately assaulted by a smell so strong to cause him to feel dizzy in an instant.

The inside of the place was half destroyed by the enormous chaos that had been going on uninterruptedly since hours and hours, and the environment smelled oppressively of smoke, sweat, alcohol, piss and wet cunts; the members of the crew of women had transformed the common room of the inn exactly into the brothel that gave its name to their ship.

A woman, taller than him and as muscular as a bull, stood before him as he entered the room, her dark, almond-shaped eyes glaring at him threateningly, her alcohol-scented breath wafting to his nostrils. The wide tattoos on her amber skin were all she was wearing, and a leather strap ran across her bare chest to support the scabbard of an ugly scimitar she carried on her back. She clearly did not want any intruders interrupting their lascivious celebrations.

"I am Admiral Nyphoros," he told her, hoping she could have understood his words. "I'm here to speak with the Commanders Mabel and Meridia."

The woman stared at him for a moment longer with her hostile, dull expression, before turning with a grunt and walking away, suddenly losing all of her interest in him. Nyphoros watched as she approached a group of her companions, grabbed a mug of ale from a table, and raised it high above her head, booming words in an incomprehensible dialect, before downing the contents in one single gulp.

Nyphoros advanced slowly through that huge chaos, carefully trying to avoid the shards of glass and the pools of alcohol and other liquids that had formed on the floor, amidst the screams and shouts of revelry coming from all around him.

At first glance, he estimated that there were at least forty women present in the main room of the inn, all of them with the obvious facial features of the Isle of the Lotus, the dark and amber skins, the black hair, the elongated almond-shaped eyes.

That was actually the characteristic trait of the crew of that infamous pirate ship. With the sole exception of the two commanders, both native from Troygrove, the entire crew was made up of women coming from the Duchy of Hadun, criminals, renegades and outlaws who had opted for a life of adventure and plunder far from their homeland.

In that moment, only few of them were actually keeping any trace of clothing on their bodies, while they gave themselves over to the most unbridled joy, dancing frantically, howling obscene tavern songs, drinking like sponges from the mugs, kissing and openly copulating with each other like a pack of beasts in heat. Some of them were laying unconscious, stretched on the dirty floor or leaning against the walls of the room, knocked out by the alcohol and the excessive revelry.

A naked woman was laying over the surface of a wooden table, her legs wide apart, moaning aloud as two of her companions, knelt between her thighs, were taking turns in licking her open, juicy pussy, and a group of excited, drunken female sailors was forming an half-circle around them, betting amounts of gold moneys on who of the two would have been the first of them to make her climax once again.

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