The Master of Her Fate

The Master of Her Fate

Chapter 10: The Betrayal

Annalyssa stood on the top of the hill, looking down at the castle that had been her home for her entire life. It looked so different now. Parts of it were missing, having been burned in the invasion, and a different flag now flew from it's high tower. She studied that flag with interest. It bore the symbol that the Warlord had created for the barbarian hordes; axe and sword crossed in front of a sacred oak, while a crown lay shattered on the ground beneath the. It showed his philosophy for the new nation he was building, one where a man's station at birth was meaningless, and what he did was what defined his position. He had told her that as they lay in each other's arms that night, talking softly after a bout of lovemaking. He had visited each of the wives separately last night, taking time to connect with each on her own terms, in her own space, which Anna thought was a very touching gesture. She loved Tharona and Nakree already, and when she shared the Master with them (or rather, when he shared her, since she seemed to be the focus most of the time) it was a wonderful experience, but she knew that pure sex would have grown stale very fast. Instead, he was taking the time to get to know her, to make her a true wife, the kind that was a man's helpmate and soulmate, rather than just a pleasure pet.

The Warlord continued to surprise her with his depths. Clearly, the half-orc stereotype was utterly, completely wrong. Physically he fit it, with his incredible strength and sheer savagery in battle, but he was as far as could be from the stupid brute that she had been taught about. Not only was he a master tactician, able to out-think his opponents and use the tools of barbarian might in ways that could make them unstoppable, but he was also something of a scholar. She hadn't asked him too much about his past, but from what little he had told her, she gathered that he had traveled the length and breadth of the world during his time as a blade for hire, and that he had learned as much as he could at each new place. Anna had questioned Tharona and Nakree far more boldly than she had questioned him, and from that she knew that he spoke at least a dozen languages fluently, that he could read in half of them and write in two, and that he knew four types of sign language for communicating with the savage tribes of the Southern Wilds. How much more interesting was that than her own nation's so-called scholars, who simply memorized books all day? He had BEEN there, he had SEEN everything he knew about, and in her eyes that made him far more intelligent than those foofy fops.

He was also, she was coming to realize, far more of a philosopher than one might think. This idea of his, of a nation where birth meant nothing, could be viewed as a knee-jerk reaction to how his own position at birth had disadvantaged him, but it was more than that. He truly beleived it was right for all people to be equal, and he was working to make that happen. Anna no longer felt any qualms over what she had done two days ago, telling him the names of people who could help him destroy Daman. The world he had shown her in a few moments of impassioned speech (and oh, how glorious his face had been, lit up with the force of his conviction) was so much better than the world she had lived in all her life that she was willing to let people die to achieve it.

Not that it mattered what she was willing to do, of course. Anna laughed softly. He might be a loving husband, but he was also a stern Master, and she had to obey him. It was just good fortune that she happened to love doing all the things he told her to do. Anna turned and began to walk down along the trails that criss-crossed the hillside. Maybe she'd go down into town later on and watch him train his men.


***

Garshan growled in frustration as he stared at two ragged, drawn, but still defiant people. For the love of all the gods, these people were fools! It had taken him one precious day to find the two heads of the etiquette schools, for the nobles were remarkably resistent to his questions. One had become so impertinent that Garshan had lost control and backhanded him with such force that it had broken his neck. After that, they were far more willing to speak, and so here he was, with Matron Harcourt of the Noble Way and Sir Ronald Mathadon of the Noble Barracks. The Matron was a stately woman in her forties who was still beautiful despite her age. She was very short, perhaps even shorter than Anna, and her figure was quite plump, but she was one of those large women who simply grow more beautiful as they gain pounds. A massive but perfectly shaped rear and thighs strained her ragged dresss, while a pair of breasts that would fill even his gargantuan hand to overflowing nearly spilled out of her torn bodice. Between them lay a waist that was very thick but still shapely, with no rolls of fat hanging down or unsightly folds of skin. Her face was beautiful as well. Just slightly too round to be called heartshaped, she had plump cheeks, a small button nose, and exquisite turquoise eyes, framed by a cascade of auburn hair. He could tell he was going to enjoy breaking her to his will.

Sir Ronald was a different story. He was the sort of man who had perhaps been something of interest in his youth but was now merely laughable. Short, incredibly thin, with a homely face and cloudy dull blue eyes, he did not exactly inspire awe. Garshan's nose, far more sensitive than a human's thanks to his orc father, could smell an aura of sickness about him, the sort that grew inside a man and killed him slowly. Neither of them looked happy to be here, but it was better than what they had been doing, which was cleaning stables. The warlord had put the most-respected of the nobles in the lowest positions in order to give them a bit of perspective.

"You're wondering why I've summoned you," he said, staring down at the two of them. They had been forced to their knees in front of him by his guards. "Come with me, and I will tell you." He gestured for them to follow, waiting for them to get shakily to their knees, and then led them to a room in the ravaged castle where a meal had been prepared. It was simple barbarian fair, mutton, cheese, and bread with fresh milk, but to people who had been given bread and water for five days, it was heaven. "Eat, and then I will tell you."

The two ex-nobles fell to the food with gusto, and Garshan watched them closely, using how ravenously they ate to judge how ready they were to obey. He knew from bitter, terrible personal experience that hunger was a wonderful motivator. Make a man hungry enough, and he would do anything for the offer of food. The same went for shelter and warmth. When the last crumb was gone, he sat down at the head of the table and looked at them for a long moment.

"I have a vision," he told them, "Of the entire world united under one banner. Mine." He made a fist the size of a man's head and smiled savagely at the thought. Ronald seemed frightened, but Matron Harcourt stared at his hand as if unable to look away. "As you have seen from our devastation of your city, my warriors and I are ready, willing, and able to make this vision a reality. But in order to do that, we must fight in unconventional ways. I seek to take Daman, Jewel of the Plains, as my next conquest, and in order to do that I need men able to infiltrate it under the guise of Southerners and weaken it." His green eyes bored into the two of them. "But I cannot teach my men to blend into such a place. I have never learned that sort of subtlety." He paused a moment and let them mull that over, then leaned closer, his firey gaze drawing them in.

"You, however. . . you can teach them this. According to my sources, both of you trained young men and women in the ways of noble etiquette for decades. You are intimately familiar with small details that the nobilitiy will notice." He smiled again. "That is why you will train my men. Armed with your knowledge and my strategy, they will weaken Daman's foundations until all it takes to topple it is a single push."

THere was a long, long pause as they both stared at him in disbelief, and then Sir Ronald spoke up.

"And just why would we want to help you?" he said in a voice that was weak with age and illness, but still carried some conviction. "You sacked our homes! Killed our neighbors! Took us from a fine position and cast us into abject slavery!" He held up hands that had blistered from work. "And don't threaten to kill us, either. What you have reduced us to is a fate worse than death. I would gladly take execution over helping you." He spit weakly in Garshan's direction while the Matron nodded quietly.

Garshan sat silent for a moment, his face perfectly composed. Reaching up, he wiped the spittle from his cheek and examined it for a moment. Then, shockingly, he began to laugh. His deep, rolling chuckle boomed to the rafters while the Matron and Sir Ronald looked at each other in disbelief.

"Ah, finally some spirit!" roared Garshan, still chuckling. "THIS is what I had hoped to see! I will tell you why you should help me, Ronald Mathadon and Lianna Harcourt." He deliberately left their titles off, which made them bristle. "Because if you do, your titles will be reinstated to you. All that you had and more will be returned to you, for the position of spymaster is one of great regard. Or it will be."

"See here!" said Ronald, sputtering slightly. "Why on earth did you take our titles away in the first place, then, if you were going to give them back? Is this," he held up his blistered hands, "And the indignation Lady Harcourt has been subjected to over the last five days, nothing more than a cruel joke?!"

"NO!" roared Garshan, coming up out of his chair, and Ronald paled, his life flashing before his eyes. The warlord began pace back and forth, arms behind his back, as he warmed to his topic. "It's a way of showing you my point. To me your birth means nothing. I care not if you are the son of a king, or the son of a crippled pig farmer. All I care about, is what you do." He fixed Ronald with his gaze. "Your title will be earned by contribution to my military campaign. Without your assistance, I may not be able to take Daman, and I will reward both of you accordingly for helping me achieve such a lofty goal. But when you have your power back, it will be because of what YOU have done with your OWN skills, your OWN body and mind and blood, and not because of what some long-dead ancestor did."

Ronald and Lianna stared at him for a long time, their faces stunned. Obviously this was not at all what they had expected from this brutish-looking man. Finally Ronald spoke again, his voice tentative.

"I would. . . have lands again? Money? Power?" Garshan nodded.

"All that and more," he said. "You would have your life back." Ronald's face darkened, and Garshan went on, "I can smell the sickness inside you, old man. My orc nose is far more sensitive than yours. The barbarians may not have shining temples and golden robes, but our gods still have power. My druids can heal you, give you back the health you lost so long ago, and then you can truly enjoy the power you will hold, as one full of life and vigor."

Ronald's mouth hung open, and as he stared at Garshan, something began to bloom in those cloudy eyes. It looked suspiciously like hope. It was preposterous of course, what the warlord was saying. . .but then it was preposterous that a beastly half-orc could stand here and speak with such power, conviction, and intelligence, or that the savage barbarians of the North could unite under one man. "You can. . .you can do that?" he said breathlessly. "Your healers are capable of slaying this malady?" Garshan nodded slowly, and Ronald struggled to his feet, concentrating hard and fighting back the pain of age and sickness to stand tall and strong.

"Then I, Ronald Mathadon, son of Torrence Mathadon, do pledge myself to you and your service, my Warlord." He bowed his head forward and then slowly, painfully got to his knees. "May your banner fly from every tower in the world."

GArshan smiled triumphantly and said, "Rise, Spymaster Mathadon. Go to the hallway outside this room, and tell my men what you have done. They will take you to your new quarters."

Mathadon did as he was told and walked to the door, his steps stiff, but his face bearing a joy that had not been on it in many years. With that settled, Garshan turned to Matron, who sat quietly, staring at him with a strange light in her eyes.

"What of you?" he said. "Do you pledge yourself to my service?" She remained silent and his eyes narrowed slightly. "Answer me," he growled, his voice full of menace. Slowly, the Matron looked up at him, and then her gaze dropped to trace up and down his body before coming to a stop on his eyes.

"What are you?" she said softly, catching Garshan by surprise. "You are unlike any man I have ever seen before, and I have dined with kings and generals."

"I am a man tired of the world he lives in, seeking to make a new one," he said, staring back into her eyes. She nodded slowly.

"You are also a man who should not affect me as he does," she whispered. "For years I have sat at tables and watched my noble charges dance with young men, be chased about and sought after by the finest of Princes, while my own husband, rich and fine though he was, drank himself into a stupor every night and never touched me." She looked back up at him. "I was a Lady, rich and respected, but I was not a woman. My figure was too thick to be a prize, and no man would have me as his lover, though all sought my favor because of my influence." She stood and looked at him boldly. "If you want my service, I want yours. You stir me as no man ever has, you and your powerful body, your amazing vision of a new world, and your eyes like emeralds." She came closer, her eyes growing warm as she stared up at him. Make me feel like a woman again, and I will serve you with all the devotion I hold in my heart. If not. . ." she looked down at the floor. "Then send me back to the stables, for any title I gain back will be as empty as the one I held before you came."

Garshan stared down at her, and he felt pity. The half-orc knew what it was to be respected and feared, but not desired. How many times had the swiftness and power of his axe and his mind for tactics caused him to rise to power, only to find that his orcish face was still considered ugly, and that women only slept with him to use him? Only when he came to the North, where scars and ugly faces were an unavoidable part of the bitter struggle to survive, had women desired him simply because of how he looked, and for his savage strength, rather than because of the power he held.

"Not a prize?" he said softly, and she shivered at the husky tone of his voice. "Then truly men of the South are fools, for when I look at you, I see a prize indeed." The warlord swept his thick cloak from his shoulders and laid it on the ground, making a makeshift bed for them. Lianna stared at it, swallowing hard, and then stiffened slightly as she felt his hands on her shoulders. "Go slowly, I beg," she whispered as he pulled the remaining tatters of her once-fine dress away. "It's been a long time for me."

"I won't hurt you," he said, and his lips brushed her ear in a way that made her gasp. She nodded and moved her arms to let him pull her dress away, until she stood naked before him. The warlord leaned down and softly kissed her neck. His lips were gentle, but the texture of them was somewhat rough, and his tusks scraped ever so gently against her skin, making it far more pleasurable than any other time her neck had been kissed by the few lovers she had known in her lifetime. She gasped as she felt his big hands running down her sides, callused fingertips tracing the soft lines of her prodigous curves, caressing the swells of her hips, across the hills and valleys of her large bottom, and up her back. He traced the outline of her shoulder blades and then down the back of her arms, finally taking her hands in his. Lianna was utterly lost in his touch. No man had ever made her body sing like this with just the tips of his fingers. Her womanhood, still kept clean and shaved in the vain hope that some man might someday touch it, throbbed painfully as she grew wet and hot. His hands moved forward, fingers brusing along the edges of her breasts, and then moving up to cup them, and she groaned as she felt his rough, warm palms cover the huge orbs. His teeth grazed her ear and she whimpered, knees trembling. His fingertips caressed her nipples with incredible gentleness, and she moaned helplessly. Garshan drew her back against his body and she felt the hard bulge of his manhood inside his leather breeches. By the gods, it was huge! He must be like a stallion. The thought thrilled her, for her husband's rather small manhood had never really been enough to satisfy her.

The torment continued as he held her breasts in his hands and began to kiss down her back, his mouth brushing along her shoulders, the back of her neck, the hollow between her shoulder blades, and along the curve of her spine. A growl rumbled over her skin as he went to his knees behind her, still tormenting her aching nipples with his fingertips, and the feel of it made her sob softly with pleasure. Garshan brushed his mouth back and forth across that lush rump, feeling his orc side rise up with the urge to devour this delectable piece of meat. With another growl, he bit down, and Lianna cried out in shock, pain, and pleasure as his teeth marked her, trembling in his arms. He bit her again, and again, covering her behind with his marks, and then drew his tongue down between those big cheeks, teasing the sensitive skin between them. He licked back up in an unbroken line, along her spine, until his mouth was at her neck once more. So tall was he that on his knees he was at an almost perfect level with her head, and she shivered as she leaned back against him. One of those big hands slid down, caressing over her stomach, and she tensed in delighted anticipation as it wandered to her womanhood. Lianna cried out as he cupped her, grinding gently against her clit, and sobbed out a plea for pleasure.

"Oh, my lord! P-please don't tease me! I c-cannot bear it!" He growled against her again and slid one of those massive fingers inside her. God, it was as big as the average man's penis! She cried out as he filled her with his finger and curled it upward to hit the most delicious spot inside her, thrusting her hips forward against his hand with reckless abandon. The heat grew, he hit her spot again, and she threw her head back against his shoulder and sagged in his embrace as the first true climax she had felt in eight years shook her. She trembled and clenched tight on his finger, her juices exploding out to drip down her legs and her breasts heaving.

"Oh. . . God. . . Ohhh. ." she moaned softly, unable to believe how good it had been. Lianna couldn't even stand after that. Only his arm at her waist was holding her up, and the weight of him behind her, as strong as an oak tree. She trembled as he slid his finger out of her, and then squeaked in surprise as he swept her feet out from under her, lifting her in his embrace to carry her to the bearskin.

Lianna was amazed. She was not a small woman, weighing over two hundred pounds, but those thick arms held her as easily as a child. It was delicious to be in the grip of such strength. Garshan laid her down on the fur and stepped back to take his own clothes off. He kicked off his boots and slid his breeches down, gasping in relief as his hard cock sprang free. Lianna stared at it hungrily, remembering the teenage indescretion that had shaped her life. As a girl of sixteen, rebellious and full of lust for life, she had taken a handsome soldier into the stables and pleasured him with her mouth. They had been caught, and the iron discipline she had been subjected to after that had lead to her becoming the Matron of the Noble Way, but she had never forgotten the taste of that man's seed, hot and salty on her tongue. She wanted that again.

Sitting up, the Matron took his manhood in her hands as he was taking his hauberk off and covered it with her mouth, sucking furiously. She caught him by surprise, and she felt him tremble even as she heard his gasp. Lianna held his cock tighter in her hand, refusing to let him pull away, and lashed her tongue over him as hard as she could, while her hands stroked and pulled at his shaft and balls. She didn't have much experience, but many were the lonely nights she had lain there, fantasizing about what she would do with her mouth the manhood of whatever young prince had caught her eye that night, and she did all of that now. The warlord quickly gave in and tangled his hands in her hair, holding her mouth on him while his body grew taught as a bowstring. She felt him swell in her mouth and sucked harder, not wanting to waste a single drop of his seed. With a groan, he shot down her throat, and she swallowed every bit, groaning around his cock as the thick, hot liquid filled her mouth. It was delicious, even better than the soldier's had been, and she stroked him furiously to get every last drop. At last he groaned and pulled her away, and she licked her lips, swallowing the last little bit and grinning up at him.

"I say again: those men were fools," he said, and he bore her down to the fur, pressing his weight on top of her. She could take it far better than any lithe young beauty, and she wrapped her arms around him, wanting him close against her. Sliding his body down hers, Garshan lowered his mouth over those amazing breasts and took them in his hands. Lianna cried out as he tormented her nipples again, sucking them hard, licking them, and biting them lightly. Those teeth were the most exquisite thing she had ever felt. He devoured her breasts for a long time, licking and kissing every inch of the delightful orbs, and then he began to kiss downward and she tensed in anticipation again. Only once had a man pleasured her with his mouth, the one time she had gotten her fop husband to truly sate her, and she had remembered it her entire life as well. She tangled her hands in his hair and tried to force him down, but he resisted, chucking against the swell of skin just above her dripping pussy.

"Patience, Lianna," he said. "No one will interrupt us." He lowered his mouth and inhaled the scent of her arousal, so sweet and hot and tangy. That finger came back up and slid inside her again and she arched her back, crying out, a single lick or touch away from climax. But he didn't let her climax. Instead he pulled his finger out of her, making her whimper with disappointment, and then held it up so she could watch him lick it off. Her eyes locked onto the delicious sight, and she knew she would die if he didn't pleasure her immediately. Thankfully, her life was spared as finally covered her with his mouth, sucking her clit firmly. She arched again and came so hard she couldn't believe it, her juices spraying his chin and lips, but he didn't stop. He kept sucking and she came again, and again, and then even a third time, writhing and crying out. She couldn't take it anymore, she was going to die, but he pulled away at just the right moment, when it was going from pleasure to the pain of a tongue against an area that was simply too sensitive, and smiled down at her. She stared back, her face flushed with pleasure, her huge breasts heaving. Garshan reached down and rolled her over, then took great handfuls of her bottom in each hand and lifted her. She realized what he was going to do but a moment before he did it, slamming his thick cock into her and filling her up in one forceful thrust. It hurt, but in a wonderful way, and the pleasure that accompanied it was the most amazing she'd ever felt. She thrust herself back against him shamelessly, helping him bury that shaft in her over and over, while his hands rose and fell on her bottom, spanking her skin red and squeezing it to heighten the exquisite pain.

"Yes! Yes! Take me! Fuck me!" she cried out as he ground his hips against her, and then she came again, with such force that she almost blacked out. He thrusted one more time, stopping with his cock buried inside her to the hilt, and then he roared with pleasure as his seed shot out to fill her womb. Lianna came one last time, a final dessert to the feast of pleasure he had given her, and then collapsed utterly limp and spent against the soaked fur, unable to move. Eight years of celibacy had been broken in one explosion of passion that had, really, been worth the wait.

The warlord leaned down over her, trembling, and whispered into her ear.

"Do you, Lianna Harcourt, swear your allegiance to me and pledge to serve me with your life, in any way I command?"

"Yes," she said breathlessly. "I am yours."

The warlord smiled and kissed below her ear. "Good girl. I will take you to your new quarters." The words made her shiver as he pulled out of her and left her lying in a quivering heap on the fur cloak. Garshan dressed slowly, savoring the sight of her body, still flushed and glowing with the aftermath.

"My lord?" she whispered, laughing shakily. "I cannot move." And she couldn't. When she tried, her limbs refused to obey her but continued to tremble. Garshan laughed and bent down, wrapping her in the soaked cloak. The juices of their lovemaking were slick against her skin and she loved it, inhaling their scent. Garshan picked her up and started for the door, and almost immediately she fell asleep against his chest, feeling safe and comfortable in his arms. She didn't know what would happen, but nothing could harm her as long as he was here.

***

Garshan carried Lianna from the room, a smile on his face. The meeting had gone better than he could ever have hoped. Now he had them both firmly in his grasp, and nothing could go wrong.

However, for all his intelligence, Garshan had apparently never learned not to think that phrase. He rounded the corner and proved himself wrong when he beheld Anna standing there, wrapped in a fur stall. Her face went swiftly from worried uncertainty (She'd heard Lianna's cries) to betrayed horror as she saw the woman in his arms.

"No!" she choked out, and turned, fleeing from him back up the hill. Garshan started to call her back, but then closed his mouth and growled in frustration. This was a complication he didn't need. His good mood spoiled, he carried Lianna to her new rooms, the queen's suite in the palace, and then headed up the hill to tend to his wife. He had a lot of explaining to do.