Conquered Queen Of Magic

Conrad Baldrin turned in his royal bedroom, which was now transformed into a comfortable, temporary prison. The palace was no longer his and he had only a short time left to live. If "The Empress of The World" decided your reign was over, it was over.

Syrandia Arlen was a sorceress. The dark sorceress. That would not be so special alone. There were many mystics and spell-casters in Astralghan, male and female alike. But what was making this woman unique was the amount of the gift she got. Arlen's power and knowledge was beyond anything a simple man could fathom. So great some even tended to believe she might be a goddess. Especially because... the witch literally demanded her worshipping.

With magic capable of wiping the entire cities, conjure thousands of nether beasts serving her will or the ability to keep some kind of permanent and utterly non-penetrable force-fields around her or anyone's else fragile body, there was simply no way to defeat... or at least murder her. Syrandia was the one-woman army, the law, the arbiter, and the final decision. And what was the worst... she loved to abuse the privilege. Kings and Queens could struggle for influence and territories, wage wars or settle their political feuds but if "The Empress of Them All" decided to enter the conflict... They had to submit and obey.

And now, this woman of might was standing right in front of him. The king, who attempted to defy her will and disobey what she had requested. An unforgivable crime. Not that his revolt gave her too many headaches. Baldrin's naive attempt to become an independent monarch despite the desperate pleas of his advisors to not provoke "The Goddess" showed him quickly how foolish this move was. And - unfortunately - that the legends surrounding this woman were - in fact - in no way exaggerated.

Casting several spells of mass destruction, Syrandia did not even bother to summon any extra demon-warriors to aid her. She simply razed all forts, city walls and defenses standing in her way to the ground, totally obliterating his remaining armies and turned the unlucky survivors into her mindless husks, animated by black magic. With them at her command now, she marched straight to the main palace, completely alone and accompanied only by few servants caring for her daily needs.

The sorceress was invincible, he now believed it. But it was too late. The deed happened and he... was of course a dead man. Syrandia never forgave any insubordination and there was hardly any hope for him after what he did. Or at attempted to do.

But - he kept repeating to himself - at least I had tried, no matter how futile it was. The centuries lasting tyranny of this wicked bitch eroded the courage of all who encountered her and what was the worst - it did not seem to end anytime soon. Thanks to her spells, Arlen aged minimally and even though she was now nearly half a millennium year old, her body looked fresh and no more than mid-thirties, perhaps even less. Mature... yes. But still young and very beautiful.

Conrad eyed the small figure, surprised how subtle and harmless she looked. Despite standing in strapped high-heels where her black-painted toenails attracted the fetishism of every man whenever they slipped out of the bottom of that long and also black robe, she wasn't very tall, barely reaching an average height of a female.

Her body was very curvy and in fact, a truly spiteful observer could call her nearly overweight but that would be a false claim. She was right in the limit, especially due to her perfect proportions. The sorceress had wide, voluptuous hips and a wonderfully shaped, big and firm bosom, shamelessly offered for adoration in her daring neckline. The busty chest and wide buttocks, almost asking for spanking, did not ruin her slim and sexy waist, giving the whole figure an incredibly feminine and sensual - "hourglass" look.

Arousing... but not cute.

Syrandia's skin was rather dark, olive to light brown, hinting that she comes from southern deserts. What was not too surprising considering the most powerful spellcasters were born there, in tribes living along the ancient ruins of now long forgotten civilizations. Some of them later travelled north as that was where the current great kingdoms thrived.

This alone was making her quite exotic here of course, but definitely in a very "alluring" way. Her tan fitted those beautiful, raven locks she left so arrogantly loose, so they were falling in wild waves across her shoulders and back, reaching almost the middle of it.

The witch's eyes were mysteriously green with a slight yellow tint in in her irises. The color of snakes and "the danger itself". What was further emphasized by the woman's aggressive, dark makeup, which was heavy, both around and at her eyelids. The lips, which were full and sensual used the same color and - unsurprisingly - the enchantress' fingernails were also black, long and sharp, but perfectly shaped, fitting her small toes and the rest overall.

"The Goddess", as some sycophants called her, looked at the defeated king and frowned.

"On your knees!" she pronounced quietly but dangerously, skipping any introduction formalities. Her voice was arrogant and authoritative but also quite soft and very feminine.

Baldrin gave the vixen a scornful glare.

"In your dreams, bitch!" he snapped defiantly. "I know what awaits me!"

Arlen tilted her head and hissed a spell. One would not even realize something had changed but in the next moment Conrad was lifted in the air and smashed against the wall, driven by an unseen force. Then the magic blasted him there over and over, almost cracking some bricks behind him, all by his own, poor back! She let the spell active for some time until she finally released it, dropping the now screaming in pain monarch to the floor.

"I think you didn't get it... yet," snarled the sorceress ominously and stepped closer, putting her shoe forward and placing the entrapped little black toes just an inch away from the punished ruler's nose, kicking it slightly.

"Lick it!" she ordered him icily.

Conrad cursed, his brave and proud temper erupting. Despite being battered and sore, he forced his body up and swung his fist at her trying to smash the wicked woman into the face. His attack was not completely unplanned though. The monarch pulled out a small ruby-gemmed collar with an automatic iron-lock in it and tried to secure it at her neck, hoping he would have a chance to do so before she recovers from the initial blow.

Unfortunately, however... his attempt failed. Like in public, Arlen was too cautious to simply stand in front of a stronger man, a prisoner even, in the state he could be a threat to her. Before the king's fist even touched her skin, a previously invisible shield flickered around the enchantress' body protecting the controller from any harmful attacks.

The wild momentum of Baldrin's arm was harshly thwarted away, scorching his hand and making him cry once again, while his enemy remained unhurt and the little collar fell down from his smoking hands hitting the ground and making a clean, ringing sound.

Not even twitching a little and knowing that she is completely invulnerable behind her defensive barrier the sorceress crouched, picking up the little necklace and looked at the shattered king scornfully, who was still groaning and rubbing his painfully burnt fist.

It was not a normal piece of jewelry. In fact, it was a special tool designed to imprison even the most fearsome spellcasters. Once applied to a mage's throat it would cause a strong spasm, followed by a complete blockage of his or her powers until removed. This was generally working, and the theory was Syrandia would be no exception. She might have been thousands of times stronger than even the best Arch-mages were, but she was still just a mortal, a witch like them. The same rules of magic and weaknesses should - and probably did - apply to her too but the small problem was... It would really require catching her completely off guard to achieve something like this.

With the protective force on her however, no one could actually touch the Empress without her permission, yet alone place such a thing around her little neck where it would hopefully function. Baldrin knew this of course, but it was still worth a try. Unfortunately, she was not that stupid.

"Clever fox," the sorceress grinned, examining the mana blocking gems of the collar with her soft fingers and looking more amused than annoyed by this feeble attempt "to get her". However, her lenient expression did not last long. The enchantress' disturbing eyes narrowed and focused on the startled foe as she gestured another spell, dropping the little amulet on the desk.

The king, still holding his palm and panting in frustration, suddenly realized he could not breathe. The air spaced out around him, turning his groans into a helpless wheeze followed by... silence. Horrified, he attempted to jump against his torturer, but the protective sphere smashed him back harshly, only causing him to lose the last remnants of oxygen he still kept in his lungs.

Conrad looked up at the sorceress, his throat muscles stretching in despair, unable to release any sounds anymore and so just begging for life with his expression. This... could be the end. The former ruler of the central lands smashed his shoulder and body against the invisible wall in despair, but of course - to no avail. Having no air left he dropped down to his knees, as the upcoming death of suffocation embraced his soul and mind. The witch just watched, standing a mere yard away from this struggle for life, a cruel smirk flashing in her face.

However, just before he would lose the consciousness and his heart stopped beating, the horrible woman released her prison and - with a loud thud - the room's atmosphere refilled the empty area around the poor monarch's body.

Kneeling in front of her, now in an involuntary submission, Baldrin bowed and choked, gasping for air, while the sorceress, unmoved by the scene - actually, quite enjoying it - stepped closer and offered him her little foot again.

"Lick it!" she repeated.

Sobbing in humiliation and trembling of shock the former sovereign finally obeyed, hating himself perhaps even more than her for it. Never in his life before he was so beaten and subdued! And by a woman! Sure, he knew who Syrandia was, he knew no one can stand against the powers she wields but it was one thing to simply know "such person exists" and completely another to experience it at first hand! Her might, her magic, and her ruthless thirst for dominance! For the first time he realized in its full extent what it means to be a slave. A toy! He will die in the claws of this big-busted bitch while she will play her wicked cat-and-mouse game with him!

"Good boy," smiled The Empress, looking down at the broken ruler, while he cowardly sucked her little toes like a true beggar he was reduced to. She leant forward and yanked his hair, urging him to arise. "Now, that we finally established where your place is, maggot, let's do some real fun!"

Not asking him for any reaction from his side, the perfectly controlled arcane twirl simply picked Conrad up and pinned him to the castle-wall, with legs slightly spread and his wrists placed one over another right above his head. The cold bricks cracked and the non-living, black as the death vines grew out of them, encircling his limbs and bonding him up there, so tightly that he could not move an inch.

"Lovely..." smiled the sorceress, licking her lips and stepping closer. "Let's see what our brave warrior hides under!"

The enchantress' sharp forefinger ignited with an eye-blinding intensity and - with a single swipe - she cut his firm chest-leather in two without actually hurting his skin beneath. The woman tore it to the sides and revealed Baldrin's muscular chest. Purring in impudent pleasure, she placed her soft and warm palms on it, examining his pectorals and - quite surprisingly - started to pant rather heavily herself!

Conrad's eyes widened in amazement. He expected a torture, a death even but he'd never guessed she could be actually aroused by him! Arlen, the Empress of Worlds! Never before he would think a man of his strength and position could become raped!

But the hard breathing sorceress gave him little time to question this. Her beautiful bosom was now covered by tiny drops of sweat and her nipples were so erected and firm, they almost popped out from the edge of the wide and heaving neckline. Due to their proximity, with every inhalation her ample assets actually pressed against his body, allowing him to feel them directly, separated by that thin, black fabric she wore. Syrandia's right hand walked down, and started to unbuckle his belt-clip, hastily, with trembling fingers.

A blue corona around the witch flickered and died. She was not able to keep her protective magic anymore, so much she was excited, consumed by her own lecherous lust for him! Only now he realized why she had to tie him up first!

But there was a mistake in her calculations, a grave mistake! And even though the king himself was now horny to skies he could not ignore a life-chance like this! A chance to reveal his own little secret!

Baldrin was a partial lycanthrope. Bitten by a cursed cub, the disease did not spread enough to turn him into a fully raging wolf at nights, yet he was still capable of a very limited shape-shifting. He could change his hands and feet to paws and right now that... that was everything he needed!

The king closed his eyes and invoked his own supernatural powers. A feat he now found a lot more difficult to accomplish than usually since the beautiful bitch was rubbing against him and driving him totally mad. Nevertheless, with a lot of effort, fueled by despair, he eventually did so and his pawed limbs slipped out from the mystical shackles.

He turned them back into their usual form instantly, his heart pounding hard, now, that he realized the kinky Empress did not notice anything. She switched from kissing to actual licking of his hairy chest, breathing roughly and still struggling with his pants trying to ungainly unclip them with just one hand without damaging those sexy black "talons" she wore.

Preparing his attack, the now free ruler looked at the nearby desk with the anti-magic collar still resting on its surface and his muscles stretched. He took a deep inhalation and the next moment... onslaught!

Conrad grasped the sorceress' shoulders and tore her harshly away from him. There was no shield's reaction this time and that was his only chance. Not hesitating a tiniest moment, his right arm swung wildly and smashed the confused witch across the face. The hit was far from perfect since his self-preserving reflexes still stopped him from using the full force, remembering how painful the arcane retaliation can be. Yet, it was still strong enough to stun and paralyze a small being like her.

And indeed! His worry of her being protected by something turned out to be unfounded. The Empress could not keep the slightest spell up in this state of arousal and she was also assuming he is perfectly secure in her bonds with his limbs firmly trapped. The king's knuckles hit her cheek without any obstacles and even though it was no devastating blow of his full arm's force it was more than enough to make her cry in pain and falter, disoriented for just those few precious moments he needed!

Baldrin grabbed the spells-preventing collar at approximately the same moment as his adversary recovered enough to change her initial expression of shock into a mask of fury. The sorceress raised her hands to summon something nasty but before she could even start to chant the first words of magic, his quick fingers clasped the little imprisoning band around her neck and the lock-spring clicked in place, securing it at the woman's throat, while the specially enchanted gems pinned against the witch's skin.

Arlen stopped in the half of her invocation and choked, her emerald eyes opening wide in terror. She grasped her neck and wheezed, fighting for breath, now even heavier than before, then screamed, harshly and painfully as her body rolled down onto the floor, with those sexy legs sprawling and thrashing uncontrollably, scratching the marble floor by their high heels. She started to squirm and convulse in some mystical agony, the power leaving her chest in a set of clearly visible blue waves.

The king bent against the desk behind him, more because of his own tension and stress than anything else, realizing in disbelief his desperate attack was evidently successful! He gazed down at the writhing Queen, arching in her sexy clothes, only now understanding what this feat could mean not just for him but for the entire world! All kingdoms and people which were suffering from her dreadful rule for centuries!

But somehow, despite all of this, he could not focus on this "greater" picture for long. The groaning, tricked and now overpowered omnipotent sorceress, made him think of nothing but how sexy she actually looks even in her fall, or perhaps... exactly in it!

Conrad crouched and - unable to suppress somewhat wicked grin in his face - grasped Syrandia's black hair, pulling the witch roughly up and making her release a very feminine and painful scream, while her small hands reached for his wrist to prevent the drag and her impractical shoes slipped some more against the polished floor as she was hastily trying stand up to ease the tension in her onyx strands. He twisted the dark woman against him, and their eyes met once again. There was everything for which he could ever wish! Shock, disbelief, amazement and -perhaps for the first time in her life - a genuine hint of fear.

The sorceress' initial suffering was gone. The strong pain caused by the harsh locking of her immense abilities was only a temporary and short-lasting seizure. Once the witch's soul had accommodated to the loss of control over its powers she started to feel normally again, except - of course - the slight problem that without her magic she was completely at his mercy.

Baldrin's mind raced. The anti-casting collar was just an improvised and temporary spell-lock. Fact is, he even heard those gems discharge while silencing their victim and he had no idea how long they would manage to keep as great energies as she had down. Every rational part of his being was telling him to kill the vixen instantly and free Astralghan for good. But when he looked at those voluptuous curves, so wonderfully and yet helplessly writhing in his grasp, the sweated and heavily lifting cleavage right under his nose, those aggressively painted eyes of the arrogant bitch facing the defeat for the first time in her life... he... he knew he cannot do it. Not instantly, at least. The temptation to play with such an arrogant whore was simply too high.

Feeling as the ruler of his country again, the king slammed the no longer untouchable sorceress against the wall, much like she did to him before forcing her to yelp shortly and abruptly. He snatched her neckline with both hands and tore it apart, literally smacking of pleasure as those pear-shaped, big tits spilled out, so firm and proudly standing it was almost unbearable.

"Now, my dear," he grinned, yanking her long mane down to make her head turn up and meet his gaze. "We'll play my game!"

Not allowing the victim to answer, he coiled her raven locks around his fist and harshly moved her towards the royal bedroom's pillar, an action which was not without difficulties since she was now wildly resisting him. The tattered robe rolled down to the enchantress' waist and the skirt was shambling under her feet until she accidentally managed to step on it and half-pulled, half-tore it over her hips stumbling ungainly in her high, seductive shoes.