Tannah looked down from her saddle at the woman sobbing pathetically before her. Strewn throughout the street lay the bodies of her neighbors and family, most of them killed in the last hour. Tannah glanced at the warrior beside her and saw him smirking from lust and amusement, his battle axe at his side, his other hand controlling the reigns of his horse.
Tannah dismounted and hefted her curved blade, seeing droplets of crimson already beginning to dry on its surface. The woman didn't cower, protest or beg, she simply wept, her last moan cut short with a gurgle as Tannah struck her head from her shoulders.
"Shame," the younger warrior said, "I could have made that one my first tent wife."
Fanazar was a pretty man with short blonde hair and a scraggly youthful attempt at a beard growing on his chin, and like all the pretty men Tannah fought with he seemed to lack any kind of compassion.
Tannah studied him as she wiped the blood off of her blade with a piece of torn fabric. It seemed he'd been just a boy only a month ago, and now he was broad in the chest, wore raider's chain mail and outfought some of Gavwen's more seasoned fighters.
She had been watching him practice ever since he had been made a full warrior. He was strong and lightning quick with his axe, which he could hurl it with uncanny accuracy at some ranges.
Tannah put a foot in the stirrup and lifted herself into the saddle of her mare.
"You'll get another one," she replied to him, surveying the carnage as the others looted. She listened to the familiar sound of flames crackling and women sobbing as the men took them against their will.
Tannah had been one of those girls once, back when she was only nineteen years of age, when she first met general Gavwen. For the whole first month after his raiding party killed her family he took her twice a day expecting her to get with child.
When Tannah never got sick from pregnancy and the other girls did he decided she likely never would, but Gavwen was a man who made every possible use of the things he took. He gave Tannah a sword and taught her to fight, each night daring her to try and use her skills to slit his throat as he fucked her. Tannah never made an attempt on his life.
In the years that followed she watched the other girls die giving birth, the first time if they were lucky. When she was strong enough with the blade and had earned Gavwen's trust in bed he allowed her to join the others and earn a mercenary's pay.
"Fanazar," Tannah said as the young man ogled a pair of tits. He watched them sway as the young girl they belonged to choked back tears, her hands against a wall, her butt jiggling as one of the raiders pounded her ruthlessly from behind.
"... Yes," he answered, finally turning away as they rode through the village side by side.
"You've never had a girl have you?" she asked, the corners of her mouth curling up in a grin as she said it. The young man's face began turning red as he faced her.
"I ..." he stammered, clearly taking it more personal that he should. Tannah laughed, watching his expression change to indignation and frustration.
"Sure, have your fun," he said, "one of these days I'll be in charge. Laughing won't be so easy when you're choking on my fat cock." Tannah bit her lip and blushed slightly as she thought about it.
"Hey now," she said, looking him up and down, "it's a long ride back, don't go making me wet until I'm out of the saddle and can do something about it." Fanazar's blush deepened and he smirked to hide his awkwardness. Tannah was at least ten years older than Fanazar but now he was a man and she was still a desirable woman. Thoughts of his sparsely hairy face between her thighs often flashed through her mind while she touched herself.
They rode back to the camp together, exchanging compliments on a battle hard fought, Tannah occasionally poking fun at Fanazar, hoping to draw more sexual threats out of him.
When they finally reached Gavwen's staging area it was already getting dark. The other men were drinking and shouting stories of their kills or taking the girls they'd captured into their tents and making them squeal.
"What's the matter boy!" one of the men growled, playfully addressing Fanazar, "still haven't netted yourself a woman!? Were they all too strong for you!?" He slapped Fanazar hard on the back as he and the other men burst into laughter.
"I see that's why I had to do all the hard fighting, you were all busy bagging bitches," Fanazar replied. The others burst into laughter again. Tannah imagined becoming Fanazar's first as she watched them, glancing at the generals tent from time to time, expecting Gavwen to send for her soon.
Some minutes later she saw him emerge. He was a big man, standing about seven feet tall, wearing a fur skin cloak on his chest and back, and scars of battle on his face. He had a slight limp from taking a spear in his thigh when he was in his prime.
"Tannah!" he yelled in the booming voice that still terrified her. She stood up from sharpening her sword and walked dutifully toward his tent, avoiding the gazes of the younger raiders. He saw her approaching and grinned, then disappeared behind the tent flap.
Tannah glanced one last time at Fanazar, and saw him looking back. She turned away, hoping that no-one had noticed their gazes meeting. Gavwen would, and had, killed men who openly made passes at Tannah.
When she entered the tent she saw Gavwen with his most recent fare, a dark haired girl of about twenty whom he'd gotten pregnant some weeks earlier. She sat naked on a stack of furs opposite where Gavwen was already busy undressing. She was thin with olive skin and dark nipples atop slender breasts, and a mane of black hair above her naked cunt.
Gavwen didn't need to tell Tannah what he wanted. She had been his tent wife long enough, she knew what to do.
The girl in the corner was new to Gavwen's camp, captured from a caravan they had come upon by chance on their way into the area.
"She needs to learn," he had said. He'd spent a week training the girl not to weep while he fucked her. Tannah knelt before Gavwen, looking up at his cold eyes, a casual expression on his scarred face.
