Orc Dominion: Triumph

As the sun began to set over the mountains to the west, Amelie brooded over the map. Every degree the blazing orb descended tightened the pit in her stomach. She dreaded nightfall and its ensuing dreams. Augras continued to taunt her in them, and she continued to try desperately sate her needs, to no effect. Nor had her scouts had any luck in bringing her captives, though she knew they had to be near. Some of her teams were no longer returning, but the distances she had traveled meant she had to be drawing near the orc army. Amelie stifled a yawn and arched her sore back, gently lifting and squeezing her heavy breasts.

Even more concerning was that she hadn't received a reply from any of the pigeons she had sent to the Duke of Lisene, the commander of the Sandoran army that was supposed to be confronting the orcs. If Augras had been able to defeat the Sandorans, then the path to Orlous and her daughter Anna would be wide open, with nothing to stop them but the thick city walls.

At least they've been reinforced,

she thought,

they're stronger than they've ever been.

Amelie pushed her worries and fears away to focus on the problem at hand while she gently rubbed her nipples. The fact that her own scouts had been unable to capture any prisoners, or even catch sight of the enemy, suggested that she was being harried by light cavalry. A quick study of the map showed her where the enemy would be waiting to ambush her. Not far ahead the road would pass by the Elee Forest, thinly populated by pines with slopes and ravines to conceal enemy movements while providing visibility of the road. Fortunately, she knew these lands better than any orc and knew just the way to disarm the trap they would set.

A devious, cunning smile spread across her lips as one hand drifted between her legs.

An advance force will continue on ahead to spring the trap,

she thought, and as soft sniggers erupted outside the tent she continued,

and Pierre, Jean, and Francois will be among them.

One finger traced a line along the map while the other traced the line of her slit,

while the rest of us travel along this deer trail to descend on the orcs from behind and cut off their retreat once they commit themselves.

The Princess-Knight moaned softly, but then her eyes widened and she ripped her hand out of her pants.

What am I doing,

she wondered, already knowing the answer. Her body was hot, horny, and desperate. She had been unsuccessfully fighting the urges all day. She was certain that some of her soldiers had noticed her grinding her saddle earlier as they rode, and more than once she had found their eyes on her bosom, which seemed to grow larger by the day.

She had to have her breastplate let out to accommodate her new bust. Amelie would have thought she was pregnant if she didn't know better. Brief panic gripped her when she thought of the night she had spent with the orc prisoner, but that was months ago and she was certain she hadn't gotten pregnant from it.

It's Augras,

she realized,

some new part of his curse. It's bad enough that I'm becoming as sex crazed as Jeanette, does he have to give me a body to match too?

She even worried that her strength was diminishing, and instinctively grasped the hilt of her sword to feel its power flow through her.

Another yawn escaped her lips and as she covered her mouth a shudder went down her spine from accidentally tasting the residue of her sex on her fingers.

I need to get some sleep before tomorrow, regardless of whatever sick dreams he sends me.

But Amelie didn't get the rest she sought. Her dreams were plagued by Augras, though fortunately not as clearly as the night he spoke to her. They were more surreal, with shifting landscapes, strange situations and stranger 'activities'. When she woke her whole body was burning with need, and the only thing that kept her from calling in her guards was the anticipation of capturing a prisoner who could better see to her needs.

Impossibly, the blistering arousal only grew throughout the day as she led her troop on horseback through the broken, uneven ground of the Elee Forest. It was all Amelie could do to keep herself from grinding the saddle again, and truth be told she didn't perfectly succeed. More than once through the morning she caught herself rolling her hips into the hard leather saddle, just at the base of the pommel.

Fortunately, they arrived at the ambush spot before midday, so the torturous ride wasn't too onerous. Amelie could see her troops acting as bait advancing along the road through the tree line, steadily approaching what she knew must be the ambush point. Riding at the front of the column were Pierre, Jean, and Francois; just where she put them.

Guilt began to gnaw within her for setting them up. She had tried to assure herself that it was normal, that someone would have to be in front. If it weren't them, it would be someone else having to face the ambush head on. But deep inside Amelie knew her motives weren't pure. They had been loyal soldiers before she corrupted them; among the best in Thesta like all of her Falcon Guard. Now, because of her own weakness, they were going to die.

Amelie bit her lip and stroked the grip of the sword.

It's too late to change it, they're already committed

she told herself. Just then she saw shadowy shapes snaking between the trees.

It's them,

she thought as she tightened her fingers around the grip. As she rode closer, the blurry figures solidified, becoming corded muscle on hulking frames. Her hot gaze traced the contours of their bodies as she pressed herself against the pommel of her saddle.

She kicked her courser's flank and began racing forward in a daze, hungry to touch the hard bodies, though something tickled the back of her mind.

It's the horses,

she thought first,

why are there so many destriers?

Light cavalry shouldn't be on such a heavy horse. Then she noticed that the riders weren't orcs, or even humans. Their flesh was dark, and their bodies too long.

Centaurs!

The thought snapped her out of the haze, and she realized that she was darting through the forest towards the enemy.

I've sprung the trap too soon!

She cursed herself, but the heat of battle soon quenched the heat in her loins and renewed her focus.

I can make the best of this, and perhaps it will spare the men.

She reached down to clasp the hilt of her sword again, drinking it its power. Amelie pulled out a javelin with her other hand, and squeezed her thighs tightly around her mount to steady herself. Taking careful aim, she threw the missile with a strength she never had before.

It flew to its target, piercing the unprotected flank almost effortlessly and burying itself deep within the centaur. He roared out in pain and collapsed, but before he even hit the ground Amelie had another javelin ready. A centaur with a heavy chain hauberk turned towards her and began to twirl his sling. Amelie launched her javelin first, and the point tip punched through the armor and tore into the monster's chest.

The centaur cried out and released the sling to early, sending the bullet flying to the rear. A moment later though and another centaur loosed his sling, and Amelie had to duck as the bullet flew passed her. As the horse-men began to react to her charge, more stones cut through the air and sailed between trees. Behind her a sickening crunch and a dull groan told her that at least one had found its mark.

We need to close the distance quickly,

she thought. Her people were skilled at throwing the javelins from horseback, but she knew they would never be as effective at it as the centaurs. Her own troopers began to throw their javelins to varying effects. The centaurs made large targets it was true, but their heavy armor was hard to penetrate.

Amelie grabbed another javelin and scanned for a target, then let it fly. The missile burst into the equine front of a leaping centaur, sending him crashing to the ground. Then she grabbed for the last one without pausing. The standard issue for a Thestan soldier was two javelins; but Amelie carried four. Ahead she saw a large centaur holding a massive axe decorated with bright blue feathers. He was shouting orders, and taking him for the chief she readied her last javelin.

At the last moment a flash of movement and pure warrior's instinct made her turn hard to the left and thrust the javelin instead. Amelie slammed it into the throat of a charging centaur, splashing blood across her gauntlet. The momentum of the beast-man carried his corpse forward, nearly yanking Amelie off her horse. If not for the strength her sword gave her it might have pulled her arm right out of its socket, but she avoided that fate and nimbly steered her course around the stumbling carcass.

With no more javelins to throw Amelie unslung her shield and drew the iron sword. Ordinarily she might pull back to better evaluate a new foe, especially one as radically different as a centaur, but the power of the blade made her bold. Instead, she eyed the chief again and spurred her horse onward.

Two centaur warriors moved to block her and protect the chief, a grim determined look on their faces rather than the lusty grin she had come to expect from her monstrous foes. She briefly wondered if they even knew she was a woman, but then they were locked in combat. The one to her left swung his axe at her, but she deflected it with her shield while parrying the other centaur's spear with her blade.

The greater reach of the centaurs prevented her from getting close enough to strike back, forcing her onto defense. Using her legs to guide the horse, she slowly moved backwards, planning to bring herself in line with her own forces so that one of her troopers could relieve her from the side. Again and again she turned their attacks, but before she could reach her own men for support the centaur with the spear thrust lower, piercing her courser in the side.

Her mount whinnied and began to pull away but was caught on the centaur's spear. Sensing an opportunity, the other warrior moved forward to press an attack with his axe. Amelie swung her leg over the horse without thinking and kicked it toward the spear wielding centaur as she launched herself away. She slammed her shield into the other centaur's axe to check the swing while slashing the iron sword along the beastman's unarmored flank.

Amelie ignored the centaur as he cried out in his native tongue and followed up with another slash horizontally across the back of the creature's horse body. The iron blade sank into the flesh, drinking deeply of the monster's blood and severing his spine. As the beast collapsed he pivoted in place, turning to face the other centaur as he freed his spear, allowing her own mount to stumble away.

By the Abyss!

Amelie was going to have to fight the centaur dismounted, but also knew that was always going to be the case. Hopefully she could find another horse after dealing with her foe. Once the courser had passed she sprinted forward, enjoying the look of surprise on the centaur's face. Amelie knew she needed to close the distance quickly, and not give the horse-man room to charge. Sparks flew as her sword slashed across the centaur's heavy chain shirt. He grunted from the impact, wincing away in pain from the blow.

I think I cracked a rib,

she thought as she looked at the gouge in the centaur's armor. Several of the iron ringlets had busted, but she hadn't managed to penetrate the mail. Her iron sword was good, but not that good apparently. Amelie continue to close the distance not wanting to give the centaur space to use his spear.

The centaur kicked out with his foreleg, but Amelie twisted to the side and brought her shield down, slamming it into the joint. Another crack rang out and the centaur snarled in rage and pain. As he drew his spear back to thrust, Amelie swiped down sharply and cut the tip off the spear. She quickly drew the sword back to thrust at the centaur's lower body when he grabbed her shield and started to push forward.

Amelie planted her feet into the ground to brace herself, but the horse-man continued to push her back, making her boots furrow into the ground. Seeing that this was getting her nowhere she chopped her sword again and slashed the centaur's forearm, cutting through the flesh and down to the bone. As the centaur pulled his arm back and cradled it pain Amelie slashed again, slicing her blade just below his breastplate where his equine and Mincenntti bodies met.

As the centaur fell to the ground she brought the iron sword up again, and as its magic power coursed through her it came down again at the base of the centaur's neck, decapitating the horseman. Before she could celebrate she was flying through the air, reeling after a massive weight slammed into her side.

Amelie crashed onto the ground and rolled until she hit a tree. She stumbled to her feet, head still ringing as the centaur chieftain wheeled around for another pass. Amelie kept the tree to her back so he couldn't ride through her again, and readied her sword and shield. The centaur chieftain was quick to follow up on his charge and closed the distance with her, bringing his forelegs up in an attempt to squash her.

She raised her shield to stop block the attack, acting more from instinct than from a belief that the shield would stop the centaur from crushing her. The terrible sound of splintering wood resounded in the forest as the hooves smashed into her shield. It surprised her though that she managed to hold her arm up, and that the impact didn't reverberate down her arm as much as she might have expected.

This sword is even better than I could have imagined! I'll surely be able to defeat Augras with this!

She swung the iron blade around as the chieftain broke off the attack, slicing deeply into his foreleg. He grunted in pain and stepped back, giving Amelie time to recover. She discarded her broken shield and held the iron sword in both hands.

The centaur swung his axe, but Amelie leaned back so it swooshed before her, then slashed back with her sword. The magical blade cut through his bracer and into the flesh beneath. The chieftain growled in pain, pulling the arm back and holding the axe one-handed. "You must be the Princess-Knight everyone speaks of." He leered at her. "I am Golinchkar, chief of all the centaurs. Augras has claimed you for his own, but he will give you to me if I put a foal in your womb first!"

Amelie was not one to banter with enemies, and instead of engaging with the centaur's foolish boasting she pressed the attack. Golinchkar parried with the axe, and then countered but she easily dodged. She thrust the sword at his throat, but to her surprise the centaur caught the blade with his wounded hand.

Even as the magical sword cut through his fingers he brought the pommel of the axe down on her forearm, hitting her hard enough that her grip on the hilt loosened as her arm went numb. She tried to wrench it away, completing the task of severing his fingers. Another blow from the pommel of the axe knocked the blade from her hand and sent Amelie falling to the ground. The magically enhanced strength drained from her, leaving her weak.

Golinchkar towered above her, his fat equine cock already dangling beneath him. Amelie swallowed at the sight of it. Though the sight of the masculine centaurs had precipitated driving her into battle, seeing it in all its glory up close send a shiver through her.

Could I really take that

she wondered?

Before she had a chance to find out she drew herself out of the stupor.

I don't need magic to beat him

she thought as she drew her dagger. As he limped over she rolled to the side and plunged the dagger into the back of his wounded leg, severing its tendon. Amelie kept rolling so as not to be trapped beneath the centaur as he collapsed, then sprung to her feet and leapt atop the back of the centaur as he groaned in pain.

Before the chief even knew what had happened Amelie ran the edge of the dagger along his throat, opening it and spilling his life's blood on the dirt. She threw him down contemptuously and then leapt off his back to retrieve her sword. As the power rushed through her reassuringly she looked around the battlefield. Jean and Pierre were leading the decoy squad into the forest to flank the centaurs, but with the death of their chief the beastmen were already starting to withdraw.

I sprung it too early,

she thought sourly,

and now more will escape.

Still, the day was won, and as she spied four of her men throwing ropes around one of the fleeing centaurs she knew that the better victory was yet to come.

****

"We came here to plunder, not fight a pitched battle!" Markoz growled angrily as he stalked back and forth across the main room of the coaching inn. It had once been the center of trade in the village, and a stopover point for caravans traveling from the Angrian March to Shropfordshire. Now the once busy inn was completely empty save for Markoz, Brigitte, Drauken, and Jogarth.

The hamlet had fallen easily. Most of the men were off to the north, guarding against a Sandoran invasion from the east. No one had suspected that an orc army might invade from the March. Somehow though, the Zentarans had managed to assemble a force to protect Shropfordshire from the invading orcs. "Where did they come from?" Markoz demanded, glaring at Drauken.

The wealthy orc merchant looked shaken by the news. "From the reports of the scouts, they appear to be orcs from the Elfish Isles, led by King Trogar, along with some elf spearmen and crossbowmen. But the last I heard, he was refusing to join in on this war, let alone march here. The plan was to send him through to Heste if his forces arrived!"

Brigitte sat back in her chair, her hands cradling her belly. The open vest left the proof of her breeding to all who looked. She hadn't had her quickening yet, but it would come soon, she knew. A smile crossed her lips at the thought, before she banished it for more pressing matters. The appearance of an army before them was an unexpected one, but truthfully one that didn't displease her.

An army here is one not fighting in Thesta or Heste, where the real war is

she thought. Brigitte couldn't share that with her chieftain, though.

"It doesn't matter why they're here, the question is, what are we going to do about it?" The old chief Jogarth asked.

"It does matter," Brigitte interjected, "the only way they could have gotten an army here so quickly was if they knew we were coming. Someone has betrayed us."

Jogarth glared at her not only for presuming to speak in a war council, but for contradicting him as well. It was unheard of for a woman, let alone a pregnant one, to accompany her chieftain on a raid. She had to use every ounce of determination and guile, sexual or otherwise, to convince Markoz to bring her. In the end, her knowledge of the area and its political, economic, and military leaders and sheer dogged persistence won the day and she was allowed travel with the invasion.

"How could a spy even have sent word?" Drauken asked. "There are no pigeons in the Angrian March, and to have an army assembled and deployed here so quickly would mean they had word of our intentions months ago!"

"It might just be bad luck." Markoz turned to face them again, steepling his fingers as he calmed himself and considered the situation more carefully. "They may have been coming here anyway, to attack Sandora from the east."

"They wouldn't be able to take the Seven Forts with that army, not even when combined with the forces they have to the north." Brigitte countered decisively.