Daughter of the Sun Ch. 17

IN THE PREVIOUS CHAPTERS...

Taking advantage of Queen Artemis's departure for a mysterious and sudden journey to an unknown destination, the young priestess and exorcist Octavia managed to sneak into Her Majesty's private apartments, thanks to the help and guidance of Patrus, a soldier of the Palace Guard, and Yamile, one of the Queen's personal slaves, in order to try to discover the causes of the recent changes in Artemis' personality, which Octavia suspects may be due to the reckless practice of black magic rituals.

After discovering the secret access to a tunnel hidden behind the large wall mirror in the Queen's bedroom, Octavia followed it until she reached a secret chamber that, to her deep horror, turned out to be a portal created to communicate with some dark and demonic entity. But before she had the chance to close the portal forever through an exorcism, the dark entity attacked her mind, subjugating her and reducing her under its power.

Meanwhile, in the South, Duchess Dasha of Vinevris has finally arrived in Syfall at the head of her army, in response to Queen Hailey's call, and in the corridors of the Palace, she met the young Princess Iulia, who wanted to reveal her part of Hailey's plans, along with some spicy secrets about her aunt, the Queen... an unexpected meeting that quickly turned into a whirlwind moment of erotic passion between the two...

https://www.literotica.com/s/daughter-of-the-sun-ch-15

https://www.literotica.com/s/daughter-of-the-sun-ch-16

***

The rain had started beating down again since a few hours, a thin and annoying drizzle that had accompanied them almost non-stop since the dawn of their departure from the Royal Palace of Troygrove, granting them only a few hours of respite every now and then, before starting to fall on their heads and faces again, like many tiny and cold pins.

Patrus irritably wiped the back of his hand across his wet forehead, pushing aside the tuft of sticky blonde hair from in front of his eyes, cursing once again in his heart that wretched weather. It was annoying to have to spend entire days on horseback in the rain, but even worse was being forced to do so with a nearly constant erection in his pants.

Not having been able to properly fuck Octavia again before leaving the Palace had been both a mental and a physical torment for him. The beautiful twenty-year-old priestess of Neryss had spontaneously come to offer herself to him, hoping for one last quickie before his departure, hiding and luring him into a dark closet adjacent to the courtyard in which the troop was gathering, so as to have the necessary freedom of maneuver.

Initially, Octavia had tried to deny the real reason that had led her to hide in that storage room long before dawn, offering silly excuses such as being wanting to say goodbye to him and checking on Yamile's condition. But Patrus knew women very well, and could perfectly recognize when one was so aroused and needy to the point of not being able to longer control herself. It took a very little effort to him to make her openly admit what she was actually looking for.

And when, putting her face to the wall, he had raised her tunic up to her loins, her juicy pussy was already dripping and ready to receive him... if it hadn't been for the accursed scream of Captain Lascaris who had suddenly called all the soldiers to order, in preparation for departure. And therefore, Patrus had no other choice but to put his cock back in his pants and hurry back to the yard.

From the open-top wagon in the center of the convoy, the one on which Queen Artemis' personal slaves were traveling, Yamile occasionally glanced at him. There was concern in those blue eyes, and the silent desire to seek the comfort of a known person, but sometimes a more fleeting and mischievous spark also appeared in them. It was clear how the slut was dying from the desire to get her ass broken by him once again, Patrus thought, while his erection underwent an almost painful internal contraction, as his memory went to the night he had put under both of the girls at the same time.

Also Yamile had initially been reluctant, showing signs of outrage at his initial proposal to turn what was supposed to be their long-awaited clandestine love encounter into a threesome involving Octavia, but in the end the fear of being left aside and of leaving her lover's cock entirely to the newcomer had taken over. And so, Patrus had got for himself what he wanted. As always, after all; in the end, all women always ended up with doing what he wanted from them.

They had left Troygrove three days before, in an orderly formation. The wagons carrying the supplies, the slaves, and the prisoners' heavy cart proceeded in a slow column, while the about twenty soldiers of the Guard who had been recruited for the mission flanked them on both sides, as Queen Artemis, mounted on her white stallion at the head of their colimn, led the way.

After having exited the north-eastern gate of the city, they had headed east, along the main road leading towards the Skavos River, the watercourse that represented the natural border with the Kingdom of Heath Hill. But just after a few miles, traveled in the thick darkness that preceded the rising of the sun, upon reaching the vicinity of the old Dalmatus' stone mill, the Queen had them take a deserted country road which proceeded southward, through the dense wheat fields.

The destination of their journey was still unknown. The Queen had remained locked in her austere and rigid silence since the moment of their departure from Troygrove, and none of the soldiers had found it appropriate nor wise to try to speak to her in order to elicit any sort of information. Overall, a constant atmosphere of discomfort and tension reigned over them, and none of them dared to utter a word, except for whispering, out of fear of being accidentally heard by Her Majesty.

For a while, Patrus was convinced that the Queen was leading them to the Fort of Maudar, the gigantic fortress built to protect the southern borders of the Kingdom, which, given its isolation, often also served as a maximum-security prison. Perhaps Her Majesty intended to segregate there the prisoner who was aboard the armored wagon, whoever he may have been, and personally confer with the Commander of the Fort on which special treatment to reserve to the new guest of the prisons. But long before the imposing walls of the Fort came into view, the Queen surprised everyone once again with another sudden change of direction, leading the column onto a narrow road dotted with puddles and weeds that headed southeast.

As they proceeded along that new direction, the countryside became increasingly less lush, and the signs of human settlements, vineyards, irrigation channels, wooden sheds, and isolated farms gradually disappeared, giving way to a nearly completely uncultivated and uninhabited wasteland, dotted with dense patches of woodland.

"At this pace, we'll reach Gloomdor pretty soon if we don't stop," Eurytion murmured to him, a hint of worry in his voice, as he watched the gray granite peaks looming menacingly on the horizon, getting closer and more oppressive with every passing day.

Of all the fellow soldiers of the Guard, Eurytion was the one Patrus could more than any other consider a friend. He was a handsome young man with a muscular build and long, thick black hair, a couple of years younger than him and, just like him, a great lover of pussy. The two of them had often passed the girls to each other, having fun afterward with exchanging each other comments on the received performances, in the evenings spent at the tavern, in front of a good mug of beer. Sometimes, they had also taken the same girl to bed together, whenever they found one of the most slutty ones who had no qualms about the idea of being ridden by two studs at the same time.

Eurytion was right, Patrus noted, as he scanned the desolate landscape ahead, pushing his gaze to the steep peaks rising on the horizon, gray and sharp like a dragon's teeth. Having avoided and passed the Fort of Maudar, he couldn't recall anything in those lands that could have been considered a reasonable destination for their journey.

With unease, he remembered the words that Octavia had spoken to him the first time they had met, that night when he had caught her sneaking around the hallways of the Palace, holding her strange exorcist crystal. He had never truly believed her at that time, but now, seeing the enigmatic behavior of the Queen with his own eyes, he began to wonder if perhaps there was some truth in the words of the young priestess of Neryss.

As evening fell, they halted their march to set up camp. The wagons were arranged in a circle, and fires were lit all around while the soldiers organized the shifts for guard duty. Standing beside a bonfire where some meat was being cooked, Patrus watched as the last of the Queen's slaves hurried to enter the large tent erected in the center of the camp, where they would have spend the night with her, as always.

"All this pussy at hand and not a chance to fuck in the ass even one of them," he moaned muttering, voicing all his disappointment, feeling the pressure in his testicles become oppressive for the urgent need to release his semen, now almost at the boiling point.

Sitting on a small fallen log near the fire, Eurityion chuckled, amused by his friend's torments.

"If the Queen catches you trying with one of her girls, she'll cut your dick off and make you eat it," he said, gesturing with the knife in his hand, his mouth still full of the roasted meat he was chewing.

"Some of them will have to go out sooner or later to go piss, won't they?" asked Patrus. The time for a piss could have been enough for him to convince one of the girls to give him at least a blowjob, should he had the chance to intercept one of them between the trees. It would have been a quick thing, he would have let himself go immediately without dragging too long, but that would have been okay nevertheless. What mattered most now was to lighten the unbearable weight he was carrying in his balls.

"Forget it," Eurytion warned him, easily guessing his friend's thoughts, "too risky. It would only take nothing for the Queen to demand your head, along with the tool you have down there. It's better for you if you sit back down."

Patrus remained still for another moment, evidently reflecting on his friend's advice. Then he sat down on a rock next to the fire and drew the knife from its sheath.

"Who do you think is held in the prisoners cart?" he asked, diverting his gaze from the tent and searching for a topic that would distract him from his repressed needs, while he cut for himself a slice of roast with the knife.

"And who do you think should be there?" replied the friend, with the mocking tone of someone who was speaking to a completely slow-witted person. "Her royal sluttiness, Princess Alanor herself."

Instantly Patrus became motionless, the piece of roast still speared on the tip of his knife. Alanor was one of his numerous lovers, certainly the most prestigious one, yet from the day of her capture by order of the Queen, Patrus had not thought much of her, being too busy enjoying his new conquests.

"Are you sure about that?" he asked after a moment, staring at his friend with utmost intensity.

Eurytion nodded his head.

"Mauros and Oxneck told me," he explained, "they were among those who picked her up from the Kraken Tower, the very night we left from Troygrove, and threw her into that wagon. They whispered it to me in the courtyard, just before we left. Lucky those two bastards, who have been allowed to remain in the Palace with their asses dry, and to get the services done by Salty and all the other sluts," he sighed.

"It's unlikely that Salty still may want to offer her old favors to the soldiers," Patrus thought, although he didn't say it to his friend. According to what Yamile had confided to him, the terrible torture to which the Queen had subjected her as punishment for her lascivious behavior, having her hanging naked from the ceiling with her limbs covered with voracious leeches, must have terrified her to the core, in addition to having nearly killed her. Most likely, for the rest of her life, Salty would have remained more chaste and modest than a nun. A real waste, he reflected with a certain regret.

Without saying anything, Patrus suddenly stood up.

"Where do you think you're going?" Eurytion asked him.

"If you would be so kind as to do a favor to an old friend," Patrus replied, vigorously adjusting himself with his hand between his legs, "watch my back while I go and pay my respects to the Princess."

"Are you stupid or what?" the amused expression had now completely disappeared from Eurytion's shaven face, and his friend and fellow soldier was staring him straight in the eyes with the utmost seriousness. "The wagon is locked, and only the Queen has the key. What do you think you are going to do, go to Her Majesty and ask her for the permission to use the Princess as your cum receptacle?"

Fighting with that idea, Patrus kept staring at the wagon, the veins bulging on the powerful muscles of his arms as he tightly clenched his fists, his nostrils flaring like those of a bull in heat.

"You'd better go jerk off in the bushes if you really need to relieve yourself," Eurytion insisted. "And just settle down, my friend; until we won't be back to Troygrove, there's no chance for us to slip in our dick anywhere. Unless you're okay with putting it into some hole in a tree bark."

For several moments, Patrus stood still, trying his best to figure out a solution to that impossible and terrible dilemma. Then he spat on the ground.

"Fuck it," he burst out, resigning himself to sit back down by the fire again.

***

The next day they resumed their march. Above them, the sky was still covered by large and heavy gray clouds, but at least the rain that had so long troubled them had stopped.

By now it was evident beyond any reasonable doubt that they were heading towards the border with Gloomdor. The gray peaks were now looming in front of them, and the ground, which had been flat so far, was beginning to slightly rise, forming the first hills that preceded the mountains. In the group, the tension had progressively risen until reaching almost palpable levels.

At the head of the column, Artemis stopped her white horse turning towards her men and, for the first time in days, she addressed to them.

"Listen carefully," she said in a firm and determined voice, when everyone was within earshot. "We have almost reached the destination of our journey. Soon we will meet with a delegation of the Gloomdorian tribes, with whom I intend to confer. The reasons for this meeting involve an important matter of state, which none of you are authorized to interfere with."

She remained silent for a moment, as to let the silence to give greater emphasis to her words.

"Keep your nerves steady and, above all, your swords in their scabbards," the Queen continued. "Do not speak to those women, nor make any gesture to them. I absolutely forbid anything that could be accidentally interpreted as a provocation and that could potentially lead to a confrontation. Am I clear?"

All of the soldiers nodded their assent, although confusion, perplexity and doubt were clearly visible in the eyes of several of them.

Never before had any of them heard about embassies or negotiations conducted by anyone with the savage women of Gloomdor and, therefore, the words of their Queen sounded very strange to their ears. As far as they knew, the women of the tribes of Gloomdor were not even capable of speaking any civilized language, nor was anyone able to understand and speak theirs.

Before proceeding, the Queen ordered that knives would have given to all of her slaves, which the soldiers promptly provided by retrieving them from their leather belts. The girls accepted those short weapons with evident reluctance and discomfort, grasping them with unsure and trembling hands.

"Pathetic and completely useless defense weapons, in case we were really attacked by those savages," Patrus reflected with dismay, "unless..."

A disturbing and sudden thought made its way into his mind. Those weapons had not been given to them for self-defense, but rather to turn them against themselves in case anything should have gone wrong with the Queen's plans and their small group should have found itself attacked and overwhelmed by hostile forces.

"Better dead than prisoners," he concluded with a shiver, recalling the many tales he had heard since his youth about the terrible fate reserved to the poor unfortunate ones who had fallen captive to the savage tribes of Gloomdor.

The sunset was approaching when the first signs of the Gloomdorian presence appeared before them. First, they saw in the distance the lights of numerous huge lit fires, a sure sign that an encampment had been set up ahead. Then they perceived the sounds, confused voices intermixed with sudden guttural shouts, sometimes accompanied by a low rumble, perhaps the beat of a leather drum.

And then, finally, they saw them.

The first Gloomdorian women who appeared at the sides of the path wielded crude spears with hard flint tips and wore only primitive necklaces and bracelets made of small bones and sharp animal teeth, their entirely naked bodies painted in stripes of white and red color on their dark skins.

It was the first time in his life that Patrus saw some Gloomdorian women before him in flesh and blood, and their sight generated in him a strange mixture of attraction, unease, and disgust. Their bodies were undoubtedly beautiful, firm, agile, and muscular, but not lacking at all of grace and of the proper, inviting feminine softness, and their faces, although their rough features made them to somewhat resemble masks carved from wood, exuded a kind of primal and overwhelming sensuality. But there was something definitely inhuman, deep in their wild eyes and in their facial expressions, something that made it clear how they were in the presence of fierce, animalistic individuals, probably completely insane and undoubtedly dangerous ones.

"May the Goddesses protect us," he heard Eurytion faintly murmuring beside him.

As the column progressed, the women's dark eyes stared at the soldiers with disturbing intensity, and they occasionally shouted a few words to them in their incomprehensible language, provocatively waving their breasts and wiggling their tongues in their direction. One of them turned her back to the soldiers, wiggling her ass cheeks before spreading them apart with her hands to openly show to the men her small asshole, in a gesture that was not clear whether it was intended to be an insult or a blatant invitation to sex, and which snatched from her nearby companions a sound that was similar to a mocking laugh.

"They're horny as beasts," Patrus thought as he looked at them. "Probably many of them haven't seen a male for who knows how long. However, as much as my balls are bursting, I don't think I'd ever have the courage to even touch one of these."

The ground started to slightly slope into a secluded little valley, surrounded by wild trees and thorny bushes. The Gloomdorian women had set their camp there. An impressive black pavilion, the largest Patrus had ever seen in his life, had been set up almost in the center of the valley and, all around it, a series of large fires had been lit in anticipation of the coming night. Around them, Patrus counted approximately sixty of those savages, all completely nude as the first ones they have met while approaching, and all equipped with the same rough, primitive weapons.

"They're at least three times as many as us," he realized uneasily. Despite the superior equipment of the men of Troygrove, that difference in number could have definitely turned into a very bad situation, should the savages have decided to attack them for any reason.