Author's note: This chapter contains some rougher-than-usual sex, and some mother-son incest. As always I'd love to hear any feedback or suggestions you might have. Please rate and comment!
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Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Names, places and characters are products of my imagination and used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual people and events are purely coincidental. All characters are over the age of consent.
The author does not condone the abuse or any untoward treatment of women. Please treat everyone with respect in the real world. Thank you!
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Guard Robin
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"The Prince approaches!" Robin, the head gatekeeper yelled as he watched the dust cloud raised by the royal army get closer. He could see the shades of red that flashed within the cloud.
The prince sure likes red,
he thought to himself. As the procession came closer, Robin could see the eldest prince, Ravon Volk, atop his massive chestnut steed, leading his troops. The prince was a large man, perhaps only surpassed in bulk by his uncle, General Kalman, and cut a terrifying figure atop his war stallion. "Open the gates!" Robin shouted, and the massive studded gates of the capital creaked open slowly, allowing entry to the army.
Robin watched attentively as the troops passed through the gates. The prince led the pack, as he always did, and his personal bodyguards followed closely behind. A long line of wagons carrying captured prisoners were next, dirty bodies in rags packed in cages to be sold at the market, or to the Slavers' Guild.
My my... They got a lot this time...
Robin thought as he watched the huge line of slave wagons as they trundled creakily into the capital. What caught his eye was a lone figure that limped at the head of the wagons. It was a well built Kaskarian, with a blonde mane and ugly red whip marks all over her body. She was shackled at the feet and her hands were cuffed behind her back, and a leash connected a heavy iron collar at her neck to her mounted handlers ahead of her. Her eyes stared blankly at the ground ahead of her, unfocused and glazed, and her jaw hung, her mouth slightly agape. As she came closer, Robin got a good look at her face, and realized with a start that although she had a rugged look to her, she was really quite beautiful.
A real prize...
Robin thought, could she have been a barbarian princess of some sort?
After the army passed through, one of the guards came up to Robin. "Robin! Did'ya see the size of that haul?" He said gleefully. "That Prince Ravon's really somethin'! Even General Kalman's last campaign didn't bring in this many!"
Robin sighed and nodded towards the backs of the army as they moved into the city and out of view. "I wish I could have joined them... If it wasn't for my damn leg..." He had injured his right leg in a previous campaign, and was put on guard duty. He lived comfortably enough as the head gatekeeper, but he longed for the excitement of battle. Not to mention the fact that as an officer, he could claim one or two slaves for his own as spoils.
The guard gave him a wry smile. "Yeh... Not me, my friend. Ordinary soldiers like me die first, and even if we live 'till the end, we ain't the ones gettin' the booty."
"If you don't take any risks, you'll never get the rewards." Robin responded. "I slogged through many campaigns before I got to where I am."
"I know, I know." The guard nodded sheepishly. "But I ain't got the skills or the ambition. I'm happy being a lowly guard. No excitement or fancy slaves for me, no sirree. The dockside brothels are cheap enough."
Robin sighed again, and turned away. Perhaps it was for the best, he thought of the two pretty little slaves he'd captured personally in the previous campaign that waited for him at his house, and felt a stirring in his loins.
Yeah... Can't complain.
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Prince Avery
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Avery stood at the inner gates, watching his eldest brother approach. Prince Ravon came with only a handful of retainers, and had changed into their ceremonial armors. Ravon wore a resplendent set of bright red armor with flared shoulders, and the heavy armor only made him look even bigger than his already considerable build.
Avery never had any semblance of a brotherly relationship with Ravon. The eldest prince had a towering ego ever since he was a child, and went on the war-path as soon as he became of age. Ravon loved war, revelled in it, lived for it. Their uncle Kalman might also be a lover of violence, but Ravon was on another level of his own. He often got himself in trouble with his headstrong charges, but somehow always carried his troops through with his martial prowess.
Avery turned to Mursa and Garo, his newly hired barbarian bodyguards, and said. "When we meet my brother... He is
not
fond of your peoples, and is probably going to say all sorts of unsavory things. You two must not rise to his provocations. Stay quiet and let me do the talking, please. Do you understand?"
The barbarian couple grunted their acknowledgement as the gate creaked open, and the first prince trotted through atop his great steed, towering over the welcoming party.
"Little brother." The prince said. Ravon had strong, handsome features, a wide, square jaw, and thick, furrowed brows which made him look constantly angry. His eyes, however, were always the features that drew Avery's attention. The young prince shuddered inwardly as he looked into them. They were just as he remembered, a deep, dark black tinged with madness which threatened to consume those who looked into them.
"Brother Ravon," Avery replied formally. "Welcome back, and congratulations on your successful campaign."
Ravon did not reply, but instead stared behind Avery at Mursa and Garo, who met his gaze steadily. "Didn't think you were the type to keep barbarian slaves."
"They're not slaves." Avery cleared his throat. "I've hired them as bodyguards."
"Pity," Ravon said, unblinking. "I'd have loved to borrow that one from you for a night or two." He jutted his chin out, pointing towards Mursa.
Avery could feel the heat of the barbarian couple's anger radiating out from behind him. But thankfully, they did not respond.
"Where's Jacob and our uncle?" Ravon asked, still staring at Mursa as his gaze roved up and down her chiseled physique.
"They are yet to arrive. Scouts tell me they're but a few days away."