Kingdoms: Amazonia 9
Alexa Vega, Bridget Regan, Amanda Bynes, Marcia Cross, Sarah Michelle Gellar, Michelle Trachtenberg, Anna Popplewell, Lyndsy Fonseca, Amy Acker, Kate Beckinsdale, Alex kingston, Alyson Hannigan
This is a work of fiction, obviously there is no such place as Amazonia and the celebs doing nasty things in this story probably aren’t doing them in real life, though for all I know they may be having lots of lesbian sex with each other.
Beyond the castle walls, just out of bow range, the enemy were encamped. Hundreds,
if not thousands of Lesbosian soliders and their camp followers hammered upon siege engines, huddled round fires or stood guard. The Lesbosians ranged from poor serf, conscripted to carry supplies or hoist tents to the rich aristocracy of the Lesbosian senate. And all had one intention – to get into the castle to kill, rape or enslave all within.
Lady Alexa Shepard, nee Vega, shivered, not with the cold, despite the open window the roaring fire made the room warm enough. But with the knowledge that with her wife missing she was in charge, and with the horrible sinking feeling in her gut that whatever she did wouldn’t be enough to stop the Lesbosians crashing through the gate and clambering over the walls. There just weren’t enough survivors to defend the castle, most had fled in any directions, a pitiful couple of dozen had returned to the keep, to that could be added less than fifty soldiers who’d been left behind as a garrison.
A brief flurry of rain squalled down, even in the tower Alexa could hear the oaths of the besiegers. She smiled, if they had one advantage it was that they were warm and dry, the Lesbosians cold and wet. It was a pitiful advantage, but it was the only one she had. It was a shame the rain passed over briefly to be replaced by bright Autumn sun.
“Ma’am,” the maid had knocked at the door, but Alexa had been so engrossed in her thoughts that she hadn’t heard it. It was only the voice which broke her out of her reverie. She turned round startled, the maid curtsied, an attractive brunette behind her bowed.
“Yes,” Alexa’s voice was dry. She couldn’t get the vision of the army below pouring into the keep out of her mind.
“Bridget Regan,” the maid introduced the brunette and tactfully withdrew.
Alexa looked at the young woman, she had expected someone older, in their thirties instead of barely out of their teens. But age wasn’t everything Bridget had an air of quite assurance and she moved with a catlike grace, soft, but with an underlying edge as if she was coiled on a spring. The woman in turn eyed her disspassionately waiting for Alexa to speak first, as befitted her station. Alexa coughed, “I hear you have volunteered to go over the wall.”
Bridget nodded, a slight lopsided grin on her face, “I’m not one to stay in a trap if it can be helped.”
Honesty, that was refreshing, Alexa would have been suspicious of someone who claimed lofty motives such as love for her Lady, or a quest for adventure. They needed a level headed professional who would sneak through the lines and head for safety not a wrong headed romantic desperate to win glory in a fight against the odds. Still she felt that it wouldn’t be right to least make some pretence of warning Bridget of the risks, “It’ll be dangerous, sneaking through the Lesbosian lines. If they catch you…”
She left the last words unfinished because she didn’t know what to say. Bridget looked unruffled, “It won’t be nice, which acts an incentive not to get caught.”
“I’ll write you a message, it’s to be passed to the Queen,” then because she wondered how realistic an escaped woman at arms would be allowed in to see her Majesty she added, “Or Lady Marcia Cross.”
There was a nod from the brunette, but no reply. After giving Bridget a few seconds of silence Alexa continued, “You go tonight?”
Bridget looked out the window, Alexa turned to see what she was staring at. In the afternoon sunshine they could see sappers scurrying round the beginnings of a catapault. Bridget turned, “No point waiting.”
Amanda Bynes was exhausted; she hadn’t know being Queen would be quiet so tiring. Even in the midst of preparing for war she had to see countless petioners with complaints ranging from trivial disputes such as a small disputed slip of land to the important a plea for clemency from the Mama of a murderer sentenced to be hung. And each decision needed to be weighed, both for justice and the ripples it would send out – would the people see the Kingdom as weak or cruel, a fattened cow ripe for the milking or a thin miser caring nothing for its overworked artisans.
The coach stopped at the public baths. Amanda climbed down, as her guards dismounted. Even as the owner hurried out to greet her, they formed a protective coterie around her person. It was a relief to see Lady Marcia Cross stride down the steps, it had been her urging, or bullying to be more exact, which had persuaded Amanda to take the afternoon off and go to the baths, if only to stop her friend nagging her.
“Your Majesty,” Marcia bowed.
“Lady Cross,” Amanda observed the formalities in front of the guards, in private she might address Marcia by her first name, but such familiarity would spread round the city in no time and the politicking of the nobles would become even more intolerable.
“I have booked us a bath, your Majesty. It is rather small I’m afraid,” she looked pointedly at the guards, the more sensitive of them had the grace to blush, though they didn’t move aside.
Amanda nodded, “My guards can wait outside whilst we bathe.”
They were too disciplined to complain, thought from their demeanour Amanda suspected that they wouldn’t have been happy unless she invited them into the bath, armour and weapons and all. There was a pause from the commander, just long enough to suggest disapproval without going on long enough to wander into outright criticism, “As you wish, your Majesty.”
Amanda stifled her guilt, they were only doing their job and she was grateful for that, a Lesbosian assassin could strike at any time, but by the Goddess, even a Queen needed some privacy. Marcia nodded at the guard, there was a brief glint of approval in her eyes both at their duty and their grudging willingness to give it up on the Queen’s orders, “This way your Majesty,” she guided Amanda up the steps, “Lady Lyndsy will be joining us”
The Queen nodded. Lady Lyndsy Cross, nee Fonesca, was a pretty young thing and doted on her wife, “I’ll be delighted to see her again,” said Amanda.
“And Lady Anna Popplewell will be joining us as well.”
“Lady Anna?” repeated Amanda. Lady Anna had been in mourning since her wife had died. It was a surprise she was out and an even bigger surprise that she had reverted to her maiden name.
Her surprise obviously showed as Marcia gave a wry smile, “Lyndsy can be very persuasive; I don’t believe Lady Anna had any choice in the matter.”
Amanda laughed, “Nor did I. It seems you and Lyndsy wanted a bathe and your companions were strong-armed into it.”
Marcia gave her an innocent look. Amanda grinned, sometimes that was what friends were for, forcing you into things you hadn’t wanted to do, but were good for you – Anna to come out of her shell and Amanda to get away from the cares of office. Suddenly she stopped, in front of her, just about to enter one of the changing rooms were the blonde and the sexy brunette she’d seen a few weeks ago at Lady Cybil Shepard’s party. The two of them stopped and curtsied as they saw the Queen; Ladies Sarah Trachtenberg and Michelle Michelle Gellar; no the Queen corrected herself, the other way round.
“Your Majesty,” said Michelle Trachtenberg. Her sister repeated it.
The blonde was good looking, her younger sister even more so. Amanda paused – suddenly she grinned, she was free for a few hours to hell with the constraints and the gossip, “Lady Marcia and I are joining a few friends in a private bath. Would you care to join us?”
The two sisters looked at each other, a multitude of expressions jumbling their faces, surprise, pride, nervousness, and in the brunettes at least, lust.
“Yes, your Majesty,” Michelle spoke quickly before her sister could reply, “we’d love too.” She looked at Marcia and suddenly remembered her manners, “If that is alright with you?”
“Of course,” Marcia gave a polite bow and Amanda noticed a quirky smile on her mouth. She remembered Marcia’s comment about finding a pretty virgin of good breeding and looks to marry. The Queen blushed. Marcia smiled wider, and gestured to the door to the private changing room, “This way your Majesty, ladies.”
The dresses of Ladies Lyndsy and Anna were already hung on pegs. There was the low murmur of conversation through the curtain, much of it seemingly a one-sided conversation from Lyndsy, with one or two word answers from her friend. A couple of naked maids swept forward, chosen by the bath’s propierter for their buxomness and good looks. They took the dresses as the women took them off, hanging them neatly on the hooks.
Amanda paused for a second before opening the curtain. Marcia might be over forty, but her body was still slender and toned, good exercise, a lot of it of the horizontal kind, and good food had kept her body trim. Sarah and Michelle had the natural slim bodies of teens, pert tits, tight bottoms, slender waists. Amanda gulped and looked down at her own body; was there a bit too much fat, she wondered on her stomach, or was it her imagination? She resisted the urge to pinch to check; instead she opened the curtain and walked into the bath.
Lyndsy Cross and Anna Popplewell stopped their conversation, standing up they curtsied, or as well as one can do in water up to their navels. Amanda waved to them, “Please sit.”
They were both good looking. If you looked closely the first signs of Lyndsy’s bump was showing as her second child grew within her. The pregnancy was slowly expanding her already large tits, but they seemed tiny compared to Anna Popplewell. The younger teen had many fine attributes, but it was her large breasts which stuck most in the mind – especially when uncovered and bobbing in the water.
Delicately Amanda entered the bath, taking the seat opposite Lynsy and Anna’s gorgeous titties. Marcia followed her, taking a seat between her wife and Anna. Finally Sarah and Michelle joined them; both almost shaking with excitement at sharing a bath with the Queen they took a seat either side of her. Marcia leaned out of the pool and clicked her fingers at one of the attendants, “Six goblets of wine.”
The attendant poured, handing the first cup to Amanda before handing out to the others. It was a nice vintage, perhaps a little weak, but definetely soothing. Amanda, despite her mulitude of worries, felt herself relax, the wine, the warm water and conversation soothing her.
It was doing other things to Marcia and her sexy wife. It hadn’t taken long for Lyndsy to shift position so she was sitting on the bench between Marcia’s open legs. The redhead’s hands were enfolded over the teenager’s titties, playfully gripping them. The younger woman had twisted her head round so that her mouth was locked onto Marcia’s, the sound of passionate kissing could be heard above the murmured conversation of the others. Suddenly the redhead broke the kiss, keeping one hand on Lyndsy’s tit she snapped her fingers of the other one. The nearest attendant hurried over, “My Lady?”
“Bring me a strap-on,” ordered Marcia.
“Off course my lady, what size?” the attendant asked.
Marcia turned her head toward Lyndsy. The teen giggled, “Oh a big one of course.”
Turning back to the attendant, Marcia nodded to show that she was in perfect agreement with her bottom’s order. The attendant smiled, “Any colour my lady?”
“No,” replied Marcia and returned her mouth to Lyndsy’s.
The others in the bath sat back; it was always nice when bathing amongst friends when one of the couples fucked. It took only a few moments for the attendant to return with a ten-inch, gold coloured strap-on, resting on a tray. She presented it to Marcia for the Milf’s approval; the redhead nodded. Standing up she took it and pulled it up her thighs.
Lyndsy giggled and for the benefit of the others said, “I do love big dildos.”
“Don’t we all,” said Anna jealously, she blushed, “though fingers can be good as well.”
Lyndsy ignored her, but Amanda noted it and made a mental note to herself to see if she could find Anna a new wife to take care off her.
There was a gasp from Lyndsy as her wife started to push the cock up her back chute. She gripped the edge of the seat and lifted her knees above the water, pushing herself up and down on the cock. Marcia’s tongue started to roll over the top of her naked shoulder blade as one of her hands snuck under the water to play with the teenager’s naked slit. Lyndsy’s tits bounced joyfully as she slammed up and down, “Uuuurgghhh, aaaarrrggghhh, yes, fuck my ass, fuck me hard..”
Amanda smiled, it was always nice to watch an attractive couple go hard at it. Watching it made her own pussy tingle and she reached down to lightly rub her aroused lips. Suddenly she jerked upright. Someone else’s finger was down at her slit, gently exploring the outside. She looked at Sarah, the blonde’s hands were behind her head as she watched Marcia and Lyndsy fuck. Turning to other side Amanda looked at Michelle. The brunette gave an innocent smile, as her elbow moved through the water. Glancing down Amanda could see the teen’s fingers, blurred through the water, running over her lips. She relaxed and let Michelle play with her.
The teen got more daring. Her middle slid into Amanda’s hole, the Queen laid back her head and closed her eyes, “Mmmnn, yes.”
The finger slid round her cunt, pressing at the flesh, before Michelle found what she was looking for. Amanda momentarily jerked as her clit was touched and let loose a moan. Michelle began to tickle the bud, her nails slipping gently over it. Amanda gasped again, her hands clenched and unclenched, “That’s good, that’s so good.”
The tickling got harder, pushing the clit deep into the folds of flesh surrounding it. Amanda’s body bucked and heaved, her breath coming out in short gasps, “Yessss, that’s it, Goddessssssssss.”
The orgasm tore into her, wrenching her into an alternate reality comprised of pure pleasure. Her mouth opened, emitting orgasmic screeches as her body fled from her control. Then, within seconds, it subsided, leaving nothing but a warm glow in her. Michelle sucked her finger innocently, though no-one could have been unaware what she was doing. Across the bath, Lyndsy screamed in pleasure once more as she came.
Amanda lay back, the trip to the baths had been a lot more relaxing than she thought it would be. Still there needed to be ramifications for finger fucking the Queen without her permission, but obviously not too harsh that they would stop it happening again. Amanda smiled as she thought off the solution. She opened her eyes and looked at Sarah and Anna, “Sarah, Anna I need a couple of new ladies in waiting, would you be them?”
The two teens looked at each other opened mouthed, being a Lady in Waiting to the Queen was one of the greatest honours an unmarried or widowed aristorcrat bottom could get. They both nodded enthusistically. Amanda turned to Michelle and treated her to a charming smile. The teen managed, just about, to hide her scowl.
The inside of the castle was gloomy, the stuttering torches not powerful or numerous to give it light. Bridget Regan knocked on the door to Lady Alexa Vega’s room, smiling as the shadow multiplied the size of her arm.
“Come in,” there was a quaver in Alexa’s voice.
Bridget opened the door and stepped in, the room had more light, a roaring fire illuminated half of it, a latern sitting on the desk did the same for the other half. Lady Shepard stood up, her hand gripped the desk as she did so. Bridget could see the teen was shaking, the hand was keeping her from falling.
“My lady,” Bridget gave a brief bow, “I’ve come for your message.”
“The message?” Alexa looked momentarily nonplussed, before she shook her head as if clearing her thoughts and forced a slight smile, “For the Queen. I have it right here.”
Bridget took the small slip of parchment, folder it up and slid it down her boot. Alexa watched her, the teen’s face was pale and drawn – she had obviously realised that Bridget’s mission was a fool’s hope. She took a step towards Bridget, standing so close that the warrior could smell the teen’s perfume, an expensive scent and heady. Alexa looked her up and down, it was hard to tell whether she was admiring the Bridget’s twentysomething body or seeing she was equipped with everything she needed. Suddenly Alexa’ hands reached forward taking Bridget’s in a tight grip, “When do you go?” she asked.
Bridget shrugged, “There’s no time like the present.”
“Do we stand a chance?” Alexa’s voice was so soft that it was barely audible.
The question surprised Bridget with its bluntness. She considered lying, but it would be so obvious an untruth it would be like slapping the teen in the face. Instead she shook her head, “Very little. It’ll take me three weeks at least to reach the Queen. Her army will move slower, especially if rains mire the roads. The Lesbosians, they’ll have siege towers at the wall in two weeks – you won’t be able to stop them.”
Alexa groaned and moved her head to the side as if looking at something. Bridget squeezed her hands, “I’m sorry.”
“It doesn’t matter,” replied Alexa. She turned to face the warrior, her eyes had droplets of water in them, “Please fuck me.”
Bridget opened her mouth in shock at the directness, she didn’t have time to either close it or say something before Alexa’ mouth was on hers. The teen pushed her tongue in as her hands clawed at the twentysomething’s back. Bridget recovered rapidly, slamming her own tongue back at the teen, running it deep into the willing mouth. Her hands reached down to fondle the aristocrat’s tight ass, gripping at the flesh below the dress. With a jerk she lifted Alexa up, the teens legs swinging round her back. Still kissing and massaging, she took the young woman over to the bed and dropped her down.
Alexa bounced as she hit the feather quilt. Her dress flew up to her thighs and she dragged it the rest of the way to expose a bald beaver, “Fuck me,” she repeated.
Bridget looked around. There was a strap-on sitting atop the desk. She picked it up and drew it up her legs, not even bothering to remove the boots or trousers.
“Fuck me,” murmured Alexa for the third time as Bridget’s hands pushed apart her legs. The young woman took hold off her toy and guided it into the teen’s waiting twat. As it entered Alexa groaned and threw her head back onto the matress, her hair splayed out across the bed. Bridget rammed the cock in brutally, slamming back and forth as Alexa shook under the pounding. The teen’s fingers stole down and she began to rub the top of her slit as the dildo went in and out, “Uuuurrrghhh, uuurrggghhh, fuck me hard.”
Juice began to seep from the teen’s cunt, lubricating the cock. Bridget slammed in faster and deeper, her eyes looking at Alexa’s face as it contorted with pleasure.
“Yesssss, I’m cummmminnnnggg,” screamed Alexa. Her hands gripped at the bedding, pulling it towards her as her face scrunched up it a mask of pleasure. Her back arched and a loud shriek rose from her, before she fell still. Bridget pulled out and took off the strap-on.
She looked at the teen, she was lying smiling blissfully, her legs still agape. Gently Bridget closed them and slid down the dress; it wouldn’t do for the mistress of the castle to get a chill. She walked towards the door, turning as she opened it to look ar Alexa, still lying relaxed and satisfied. Bridget felt herself shiver, it might be the last consensual fuck Alexa had. She pushed away the thought and walked down the corridor.
Beside an open window stood two guards, at her approach one of them dropped a rope out. Bridget looked down to make sure it reached the ground; it would be embarrasing, and probably fatal, if half way down she found she had run out.
“You ready?” asked one of the guards.
Bridget nodded. She gripped the rope and began to lower herself down. In the distance, out of arrow range, fires glowed in the darkness. Muffled sounds of movement came from the Lesbosians, conversation, the clunk of pottery and the sharper sounds of metal. She tugged twice as she reached the ground and the rope shot up towards the window, the two guards pulling desperately at it to ensure no Lesbosian came up with it. Bridget turned and walked into the darkness. Her sharp eyes and acute hearing allowed her to avoid the few guards walking around.
At least until she was near the woods. A Lesbosian suddenly appeared from behind a tree. The guard looked at the dark shape coming towards her, “Who’s there?” she said in a bored voice, sure that no threat could be out here.
Bridget leapt forward, her hand grabbing the other woman’s mouth and forcing her to the floor. The woman struggled, but Bridget had time her attack so that the weight of her body pinned the other woman’s hands beneath her. Still muffling the, now paniced, cries of the guard. Bridget pulled out her dagger. She sliced into the neck, forcing the knife down through the flesh, ignoring the spurts of blood and the guard’s terrified movements. She only stopped when she felt it hit the spine and the body underneath was limp. She knelt over the dead guard and wiped the bloodied knife on the cloak. Standing up Bridget took one last look at the castle and walked into the forest.
There was ice on the road, but not strong enough to bear the weight of the horses. With every footstep they crunched through it and into the wet, ozzing mud creating a sucking sound as they pulled the hoof out. The horses bore it dutifully and trotted through the night’s blacknes.
Amy Acker shivered and wished she was back in camp, true it was only marginally warmer, but at least the cold there was fully natural. She glanced up at the sky, only a few stars could be seen, the rest were covered by darks clouds. She muttered an oath to the Goddess under her breath and returned her gaze to the woman in front. Kate Beckinsdale seemed unaffected by either the cold or the dark; probably because she was colder and darker than the night itself. Suddenly without warning the rain began to pelt down, Amy’s horse snorted in derision and she reached out to pet him, before pulling her hood tighter.
It didn’t work and soon Amy was soaked, the water running down her face like it was a waterfall. She sank deeper into her saddle and plodded on. After a few minutes Kate turned from the track, Amy followed her as they went through a tangle of overgorwn scrub and stopped by a river. Kate dismounted, Amy paused and did the same. Kate looked around for a few seconds, before giving the reigns of her horse to Amy. She seemed as unphased by the rain as by the chill or darkness. Instead she walked towards the river and stood on its bank.
“Kate,” the voice came from so close behind Amy she literally jumped, with her free hand she reached for the pommell of her sword. But Kate Beckinsdale was beside her before she could free it, holding her wrist in a strong grip.
“She’s friendly,” said Kate, though whether she was talking to the newcomer or Amy was difficult to discern.
The newcomer stepped out of the shadow of a tree. She had the same beauty as Kate, with the same icey coldness. Her gaze swept up and down Amy and the young woman felt that her insides were being turned inside out.
“Amy Acker. Carla Gugino,” said Kate.
Carla smiled; it was the smile of a predator and Amy shivered. She couldn’t bear to acknowledge the other woman and instead took a step back. If this put off either Carla or Kate neither mentioned it.
“Our mistress is pleased with your progress,” said Carla.
“Good, good,” Kate smiled like a cobra, “You have a message?”
Carla didn’t reply for a second, instead she held out her hands and let the rain wash over them. She lifted her head to the heavens and smiled broadly, before turning to look at Kate and Amy, “Yes, but not for you.
For a brief second a look of irritation crossed Kate’s face, but it was gone almost before it was fully formed. She gave a quick bow of her head in acknowledgement, “So that is why you asked I bring my assistant; let’s hear it then.”
“When the castle is taken Second Senator Deveraux must die,” Carla spoke as naturally as if she was ordering a boiled egg. She looked at Amy, their eyes met, yellow or blue or green or red, the irises of Carla seemed to change in a flash. Amy pulled her eyes away. Carla laughed quietly, “You must kill her.”
“Why?” Amy regretted asking as soon as the words were out of her lips.
Carla’s hand snaked out, it slapped across Amy’s face like a slab of stone. She staggered backwards, blood from her split lip leaving a salty taste in her mouth. She reached up and touched her scarred cheek, a reflex to make sure it hadn’t split – not that it would; it was too old.
Kate stepped between Amy and Carla, “Because we attack during the daylight and I cannot be there,” she paused, “Or do you mean why does she have to die?”
Amy did mean that; it was obvious why she had been chosen, not so much why Kate would want to kill one of her senior allies. Kate looked at her, as if weighing up what to say, then she shrugged, “She is too ambitious – my mistress is looking for more compliant servants. Do you understand?”
Amy did. She nodded. Deveraux would die by her hand.
Alex Kingston sipped at her wine appreciatively, it wasn’t the taste she enjoyed, she could hardly tell could wine from bad, but the expense. Business was booming, the iron mines she owned were going at full tilt producing the raw material for dozens of blacksmiths as they hammered out new swords and armour for the Queen’s army. And the influx of soldiery had brought new custom to her shops, aristocrats and women at arms buying the imported wine and clothes, which they seldom saw in the provinces. And off course soldiers wanted entertainment, Alex was glad she’d invested some of her profits in St Stow’s brothels, most nights they were full to bursting and the whores hardly got off their backs. She smiled, war was good for business, especially as she had seen which way the wind was blowing and sold her holdings in the Firth of Wolves a few months back.
There was a knock at the door and her secretary entered, “Lady Sutherland to see you.”
Alex waved her away, “I’ll see her in a few minutes,” the secretary curtsied and left. Alex took another sip of the wine. Lady Sutherland was exactly on time, but it amused Alex that she could keep the aristocrat waiting, knowing that she, the bukkake bitch, was the one with the power and the high born lady kicking her heels outside knew it. She stood up and looked out the window, beneath her seagulls whirled over her warehouse. She drained the wine and called out, “Send in Lady Sutherland,” before taking a seat behind her desk.
The door opened and in came Lady Alyson Sutherland, nee Hannigan, the young redhead curtsied before looking round for a seat. As soon as she was sat down Alex stood up and walked round to sit on the edge of her desk so that Alyson had to crane her neck and look up; “Lady Sutherland,” she purred, “How nice of you to come; you wished to discuss our business arrangements.”
Alyson went bright red; she was a typical airhead aristocrat, more than happy to discuss the latest fashions, but hopelessly at sea when it came to money – which was why she owed so much of it to Alex. The redhead brushed a lock of hair away from her brow, “Yes; yes I do.”
Alex smiled – was there a hint of defiance in that pretty face, well she decided she would soon deflate that, “I assume you’re wanting to pay me.”
Alyson gave a rictus grin and rubbed her hands together. No, Alex corrected herself, it wasn’t defiance, but nerves. High Admiral Kristine Sutherland almost certainly didn’t know that her wife had been gambling with her money and she wouldn’t be best pleased if she found out, especially as contract law made the wife of a bottom responsible for her trading debts. Alyson rearranged her face and tried to give a charming smile, “I was hoping for an extension.”
“An extension?” Alex gave a small frown, “Why would I give you that? You put money into a venture which hired my ships on the promise of payment within the month.”
Alyson’s couldn’t keep the charming smile up, it fell to be replaced by the look of a frightened doe. Her voice quavered as she spoke, “It’s not my fault. It’s the war – there’s no demand for Lesbosian wine.”
“Patriotism,” Alex said with a sympathy she didn’t feel, “They invade our lands and your stuck with thousands of bottles of the stuff no-one wants to drink,” her voice hardened, “but why is that my problem?”
There was a sniffle from Alyson and she looked at the floor. She mumbled something incomprehensible. Alex snorted, “What did you say? Speak clearly my Lady.”
Alyson looked up, her eyes were red rimmed and her bottom lip quivered, “I haven’t the money,” she said in a soft squeak.
Alex got up off the desk, “Well I’ll just have to go see Lady Sutherland to get it.”
Alyson grasped Alex’s hand with both of hers and looked imploring at the older merchant, “She doesn’t know, please don’t tell her. I’ll do anything.”
Alex looked down, from her position above the young redhead she could see down her cleavage; they looked like a nice pair. She smiled, “Anything?” she reached down and ran a finger down Alyson’s cheek so that the young woman knew exactly what was meant.
“Anything…” Alyson nodded. She arched forward pushing her titties forward so that they almost spilled from the dress. She knew what she was agreeing to.
Alex strode to the door, opened it and called to her secretary, “Cancel my appointments for the afternoon, something has come up.” She closed the door, locked it and placed the key on her desk.
Now the deal had been struck Alyson looked happier. She stood up and smiled at Alex, obviously keen to make sure she played her part to perfection, “Could you help me out of this dress?”
Alex stepped behind her and expertedly undid the buttons. She moved to the front to watch as Alyson shimmied out of it, dropping the blue and green satin dress to the floor. She stood still as Alex admired her, the tits were even nicer in the flesh than when covered, pert and firm, with a small tattoo of a flower wrapped round the bottom of the left nipple. Another tattoo of a star was centred on her belly-button, with a third, this time of a half moon, at the top of her thighs. A black belt of silk was round her waist, a thin pair of strips connecting it to garters at the top of her thighs. She was still wearing a pair of dark brown boots which were laced half way up her calves. She cupped her hands under her tits and leant forward seductively, licking her lips, “Do you like what you see?”
Alex stepped forward and put her hand on the aristocrats shaven slit, “Very much… shall we say an extra three weeks for you to pay.”
Alyson shivered in delight as Alex’s fingers massaged at her quim lips. She gave a little moan, “Six.”
Alex slid a finger up quickly, jabbing at the redhead’s clit, before withdrawing, “Four.”
Alyson dropped to her knees and reached up for Alex’s belt. She undid the buckle and snapped the buttons out. She pulled the trousers down to the knee and let her tongue run over the outside of the older woman’s cunt for a second. She looked up and gave a wanton smile, “Five.”
“Done,” agreed Alex. She kicked off her shoes and let the young aristocrat slide her trousers the rest of the way down. As Alyson did so Alex undid her shirt and dropped it on top of the trousers. Moving her hands down she pulled apart her smooth slot, “Get licking.”
Alyson did as instructed, pushing her tongue into the hole she began to rove round, pressing at the moist flesh. Alex moaned in gratitude as the redhead lapped within her. The first trickle of cum slid down her pussy, more following it as the aristocrat explored her lover’s twat. Alex put a hand on the back of Alyson’s head and guided her in deeper. She could feel the soft velvet of the tongue running over her warm flesh, sending shots of pleasure through her. It was nothing compared to the burst of delight as Alyson found her clit.
“That’s the spot, slut,” gasped Alex, “Lick it up.”
Alyson was an experienced cunt licker and she expertedly tongued at the g-spot. More juice began to slide down the cunt into Alyson’s mouth. It just made the redhead lick harder and faster, ramming against the clit like there was no tomorrow. The excitement built up, steadily rising with each lap, until it overflow in a sensous blast. Alex screamed with pleasure as she gushed her cum in torrents over Alyson. The juice swept down like a flooded river, exploding over the aristocrat’s face, filling her mouth and smothering her face in its sweetness.
“Was that good for you?” Alyson looked up and licked her cummy lips. Her hair was plastered against her scalp with girl cum and it dripped on to her face. which glistened with juice, more dropped down from her chin to land on her titties and dribble down to her nipples.
“Not bad,” agreed Alex. She helped Alyson to her feet and slid her hand to the young woman’s cunt. It was damp. She smiled – the little slut enjoyed twat munching, even if she was married. The merchant slid a finger up the hole, enjoying the shiver of excitement that came from Alyson. The redhead moaned with lust, changing pitch to show disappointment as Alex pulled out. Alex grinned, she wanted to keep the little bitch in suspense. She moved her hand to the tattoed tittie and squeezed, the feeling of pleasure this produced wasn’t as strong as a finger up the cunt, but still made Alyson groan and lick her lips. Alex squeezed harder, feeling the flesh contract under her palm. She moved her spare hand round and squeezed a buttock, there was a squeak of enjoyment from Alyson and the young woman pressed herself hard against Alex. The older woman could feel the naked skin of her lover press against her dark nipples and she moved so that they brushed against Alex.
The redhead closed her eyes and gave a murmured, “That’s good.”
It was going to get better. Alex let go off the butt. Alyson barely had time to register her frustratiom when Alex slid her middle finger into the butt-hole. Alyson gasped as the digit entered her, the hole expanding as Alex slid it in up to the knuckle. Alyson pressed herself even harder against the merchant, “That’s good,” she repeated.
Alex twisted round the finger and suddenly withdrew it. She stepped back and took hold off Alyson, twisting her round so that she faced the desk, “I’m going to bang you ass,” she explained.
The redhead immediately took position, leaning on the desk, whilst waggling her buttock entincing Alex to enter. It only took a few moments for Alex to find and put on her strap-on, but by then Alyson was shivering in excitement and moaning softly in anticipation. Alex put her hands on the butt cheeks, “Such a nice little hole,” she said softly.
Alyson groaned, lifting her ass high, “Oh fuck me deep” she murmured, “fuck me hard.”
Alex pulled at the cheeks, until the hole was big enough that she could place the tip of the dildo in it. She slid it in, paused, let go off the cheeks and transferred her hands to grip the redhead’s firm tits, “Ready,” she grinned.
Without waiting for an answer she pushed the cock further in. Alex gave a shriek as she was penetrated. Her head went back, throwing her red hair in the air like it was flame. Alex squeezed tighter at the tits as she began to rock rythmically back and forth, Alyson quickly adjusting her movements to match that off the older woman.
“UUUuuurrghhh, aaaaarrgghhh,” Alyson grunted in pleasure as the strap-on rammed in and out, its large size filling her hole completely. There was the slap of flesh aginst flesh as Alex’s body smacked into Alyson’s – each time pushing the cock as deep as it would go. Alex watched in lustful fascination as little puddles of sweat formed in the contours of Alyson bent back, only to flood away as she straightened.
“Aaaaarrggghh, oooooohhhhh,” Alyson tensed and relaxed multiple times as the dildo hammered home. Each thrust banged her anal g-spot sending waves of pleasure waracking through her body. Alex squeezed the young woman’s tits harder, until she almost feared they would pop. Alyson screamed incoherently as Alex sped up, her pelvis a blur as she slammed into the redhead’s ass.
“Yessssssssss, I’m going to…. Aaaaaaaaarrrrrgggghhhhh,” it was like a volcano had erupted with Alyson. Her body seemed to explode with jerky movement and her speech was an incomprehensible mixture of screams and random words. Alex wiped her sweaty brow and pulled out.
Alyson whimpered and almost fell, gradually lowering herself until she was sitting on the floor, leaning against the desk. Her face was flushed and her breathing heavy. Alex stood over her and pulled off the cock, “Five weeks then,” she said.
“Five weeks,” agreed a sated Alyson.
Bridget Regan had said the Lesbosians would have siege towers at the wall in two weeks. She was wrong; it was ten days and there were no towers – just ladders and a battering ram. She was right about the garrison not being able to stop them.
In the chapel Lady Alexa Shepard, nee Vega, sat on her knees and prayed to the Goddess. Around her other bottoms did the same. From outside came the sound of violence, shrieks and cries, swords cutting flesh.
“Deliver us from…” Alexa spoke. The wooden door of the church buckled as an axe thudded against it. Alexa turned, a shaft of sunlight came in from the hole. Two women were trying to lever a bench against the door. It wouldn’t stop the Lesbosians, nor Alexa suspected would praying, but at least that might help save her immortal soul.
“Forever and ever…” the door gave way and the Lesbosians charged in. Seeing the defenceless bottoms the attackers must have thought all their birthdays had come at once.
Alexa felt herself being pulled up. Hands ripped away her dress, the expensive garment dropped to the floor as if it was a nothing more than a ruined rag, which was what it now was. A fist hit her in the stomach and she doubled over. A foot kicked her legs from behind and she toppled. She could feel herself being turned over, dozens of hands clawing at legs forcing them apart.
Above her one of the Lesbosians was pulling a strap-on over her leather trousers.
“Amen,” whispered Alexa.
She wasn’t sure how many times she was raped and by how many women. It seemed neverending. As soon as one finished another took her place as their cheering comrades held her down. After the first half-dozen Alexa ceased struggling, she just lay there, dimly aware of the screams of other bottoms and tried to push her mind to somewhere else. The sunlight gradually gave way to darkness and still the rapes continued. Alexa’s body ached as if she had been on the rack and she bled from where she had been ravaged.
“You animals, get off her,” the newcomer’s voice was quiet, with a different accent from the Lesbosians. But the rapists shrunk away as if the newcomer was a mongoose amongst snakes.
A hooded woman stood over, Alexa tried to see her face, but the garment concealed it. The woman knelt down beside her and picked up the ruined dress, she ran the silk beneath her fingers, before draping it over Alexa. It was soft. The woman cooed slightly and picked her up, she was soothily cool against Alexa’s skin.
“Kate,” a young woman with a scar down her cheek came in and bowed at the woman holding Alexa, “Deveraux is dead. It seems she was knifed in the back during the fighting.”
“Good,” replied Kate Beckinsdale, “Help me take this woman to her tent. Deveraux won’t be needing it.”
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