The Scotts Chronicle Of Blooded Hearts
-- Book 1 --
The Curses Of Many Slavers
Strong Master-slave relationships, (M/F), (M/F/f/f), (M/f/f/f/f), BDSM, rapine plunder and pillage
by Lothar The Bohemian
Author's Note: This started out as an Anti-Gorean fantasy world setting, but has ended up having historic fantasy elements, and seems pretty pro Gorean as written.
It is pretty hard to write completely anti-Gorean. . .
Chapter 1
On The Wings Of The Storm
I am Paelor Antizor, Warrior at large and Head-In-Waiting of the Second Family of the Scotts, clan Judicii. "Favoured of the gods" my name means, and I am a god-fearing man, as long as my people fear me, and our laws (if few). It has been prophesied that one day I will rule the clan by several of my lovers, but so far I don't know how.
I knew it was a bad idea to get back into this slavery business thing, but I hated the idea of all these slaves so much that when the call for an Epic Raid against the Queen of the Dark Elves Mortissa Vivisarri came out from High Lord Callidicus the head of the Shiatashu tribes of the Northanger Shores, (His mother was the Arch Witch of the Bodokai(Blood) Witches). . . For 50,000 Houdaks. . . it was too much to pass up on. My first fetish was always women, I as born a natural rapist, but fortunately the women in my tribe were much the same. It was a mutual thing, a tribal lifestyle, you just had to get into it. But I never could agree with the idea of slavery, and was much opposed to it! I would kill any slaver I met. . . our tribe rarely allowed it, and we had to marry them if we had them.
It would make a man rich if you could marry several in a raid-- and keep on raiding to recoup losses, from when they would run away, and be successful in this tragic custom.
At least I could never get into the lifestyle of two men and two women mated all the time, with barely any swinging -- basically on pain of death. This was our normal Tribe of Scotts lifestyle. Let's face it we were complete barbarians but had a great time, and a slave was a better lover than a full-blooded Scotts raider.
So the cash, and my new lust for epic wars and death brought me to this crux. . . we all wanted this raid, more than anything! When Head Maeven Maevar Ubrexes, and RavenShore tribes, defeated the Milibank Shioto, and his invading Hun allies, a wall went up between us, and the Zoreans -- the dark elven raiders out by our western, and northwestern reaches.
They felt they had not enough of raiding us, and we felt the very same about them. It was not enough that we raided them in revenge, using traditionally most of their slaves only in our blood rituals as sacrifice to our lusty God of Blood, Kithar. . . as is proper to ur way of thinking, and all the clans. The only guarantee of a slave's survival was in marriage and the proper supplication before her lord, after the rites were completed.
But the wall seemed like a dare to us! Raiding was in our blood, and we taught that was a sacred way to live, but it was a sword that bit both ways!
The Zoreans also often allied with the awful Marches of Maarduk Kingdom, which had great siege weapons, and the largest populations ever heard of. Truly slavery was not the only way to keep the women of birthing age in your tribe pregnant all of the time.
My thinking is we did not need that many people, and yet our nation grew alongside those, and we were not known for our excess in over-planting, and destroying all of the herds of livestock grazing out of town on the open planes, or raping, and murdering all of the animals nearby, which were given us to the God Judicus, and the Goddess Jan for hunting in the forests.
Numbers matter in warfare however, and these were God-fearing times -- mostly the various gods of war!
Great was the pussy in my life, and yet my only wife, my second wife Sodolia, had been taken in a raid from me. The first, Entarria had been slain in raiding. And though the raiding parties went out, and my brother-husband, Judicus Scotts went out, the last of our happy Fourway marriage. And also, alas, and afear you not, of beasts and men he did not return! Yet it had been a successful raid.
As Sodolia had no sister wife, that left me single and unwed. I might as well have been barren, no child could I produce!
These were low days, for me, but to stave off the constant threat of depression, and the kind of ill thoughts that breed idle hands, I slept in the women's tent at times, a supple deviant rapport after dark with a solemn song of war and its woes, to the most beautiful maiden of that day. Our lips filled with Whiskey and the air floating free in the taverna. A promise on our lips, and a kiss on the tips of our tongues, as we sat too close, as we said too much, as our eyes mixed and mingled with the verdant life of the garden of our bed that awaited us that night. If we had known each other in a lifetime, if we had known each other too far away, we would bridge that gap. All my sisters and I were married, and we would seal and reaffirm that contract in flesh and blood, as we made love one night, and then the next day several times if we were lucky, and parted on the morrow. Sometimes she was a virgin young an nubile, but wise in our ways and would leave a stain upon our bed.
But I was much respected in the realm of of tragic and powerful kingdom. . . and much laid! Even with my losses, all could be rebuilt in time! Or I could just keep fucking every lady or lass in town, failing that!
I had no money so they would all leave me in time, nothing but a bribe could keep a lass in your bed these days! Too many other men, and not enough time in one lifetime, so usually they left me. It was a whisper and a gap in our logic.
Only two women had ever stayed with me past the two week mark in the past year, (other than those who had not been wed to me in my lusty and frequently fevered dreams): Mara Losinus, a wise women, from the Head Bodokai witch family. A fine redhead, fiery as she is bright, a bringer of peace. And Ului Jonus of another tribe, the Solonga. She lives among us yet, and knows not our pleasures. One day I would like her to join, and for a while I thought the brazen, and war-tattooed raven beauty, firm and well-endowed as well as well-proportioned, might stay with us. Venus herself perhaps. Her husband I liked now, he was exiled from another tribe to the North, called the Nords. Often they attempted to raid us, and gave us many warchildren to wage war against them with. They sullied our bloodline many said. But they had kicked an inventor out and we liked his bizarre and magical inventions. As long as many were meant for war, he would remain as blessed as a small god to our people.
On the weekends after the harvest, or sometimes after war, or a raid,
Sororitas (
"Shacking up") was a blessed thing to my people. It kept us warm in the day's winter, it was "the wine of life"; and I was just rotting on the vine, and sometimes wept for my losses.
The ladies were happy with me. But I was not happy, my family was successful and so far I was not. Eustachia of the clan Judicii, my mother, was a widely known Fate Weaver of the Witcher clans. . . and guild leader of our town of Krondoria.
I was built like a brick, tough as nails. And at 21, I had not much prospects. Too bright to work, I had to keep from inventing things. My spell work often failed too, and I needed to live more in the world. I had been sheltered thus far.
After 2 years of indentured servitude for my crimes, I was now ready for war. . . and to earn the women that would earn my keep, and make my way in the world!
We prepared for the read, my shield-bearer and myself in my traditional thatch and stone worked four-room home I shared with a brother for awhile, and now it was solely mine. The plumbing was clearly outdoors.
I armed up with a sword my father gave me, that had sat above the fireplace next to five large skulls-- like giants. Then I put on my silver ceremonial chain haubark, and brown and gray lashings of studded leather over my engraved masterly enhanced pauldroons and leggings. At least I liked to think they were magically enhanced like a great hero of yore, even if I could afford no such thing.
On one arm, I had the shield Ingratius. A godless and unholy item, inherited from my mother, which had a curse to it, but mostly a blessing. The one who wore it would be protected by an anti-magic and anti-vampire bite shield. But each time I went to war, I would have to spill semen on it before I could undress fully.
They couldn't just give me a normal magic item, just an old hand me down from previous generations, that barely worked! That did a whole lot of nothing -- but did it well! And was cursed! Damnable people my relatives, always a knife in the back and front, not as kind as my friends, most days.
And this is how I thought, though I would learn its powers were something special later on.
My helm was blessed, by a street oracle who was half mad, and thought I had filled his beggar's cup twice when I blessed it. The sides were open in a T -shape only, giving me room to breath, and would stop the forward and back blade. It looked particularly angry and hostile in the way the groves were cut. And my blue eyes would glimmer from within.
I met with my shield-bearer of the day, Gwendolyn, who was too high to give me drugs, using her own ceremonial snuff and smudge. Before the battle we would all do mushrooms to enhance our combat viability, a little like Asterix and Obelix and Verstingetorix once did. (before they fell to the Horcani Empire
It was also her sacred duty to impress me, wait upon me hand and foot, and to dress me, which could take up to an hour in the finest plate, which is partly why I had never invested in a set. In the old days they would sacrifice the shield-bearer herself if I ever swore to it -- and this would drive me into a berserker rage, and undying thing where we fought even past death, filled with the furies of our Werebear Goddess Jude. She appeared, a strawberry blonde, of a small, but not-too thin set, young but not too young.
I told her to undress so I could see her, and know the strength of each muscle, and made a good mind to follow her.
"Your need are mine, my lord. But keep in good mind if you touch my flesh you will make me horny -- and then you bring it upon yourself!"
"What do I bring upon myself?"
"My wet dripping cunt!"
I told her about my needs with a particular shield, and she swore. It sounded like work!
As she did so -- still in the buff -- I undressed myself.
I was much aroused by her, and wanted to order her into the art of warfare and its sacred rites from behind, and yet she turned around, and looked a little pale.
"I have never met you -- but this is most cool my lord!"
But she did kneel before me and take my hardness down her throat like a proper woman, as she dressed me before the battle. But I think we were getting to like the naked part better!
The beautiful redhead almost gagged as she took it down her throat, on her knees. I forced her to learn the art of the deepthroat, and then she did indeed gag! I forced her down again and again, and she absolutely loved it, as much as I did, she spilled her womanly waters all over the floor.
