Warlord by Tasha Temple Page A

warriors, first and foremost. It is in their nature to show no mercy. Tonight, you will be fucked brutally, possibly raped, and you may be beaten or killed.” Several women let out a small shriek and most cringed visibly. Rainura smirked. She was not making this up.
    “The chief and his chieftains will choose from among you tonight. You are gifts for their pleasure, their amusement, their urges, their whims. None of you shall complain no matter how you are treated if you want to live,” she said, fixing them with a severe gaze.
    “Of course, some of you may not live anyway.” Rainura shrugged.
    “When brought before the bonfire, the warriors will select in order of seniority.
    Arystan,” she hesitated as she said his name, “as leader, will choose first.”
    Rainura had no idea why she hated the fact that Arystan fucked other women. He went through them with abandon, seeming not to particularly care for anyone. She too, of course, fucked all of the chieftains and some of the common soldiers from time to time.
    But she would have given anything to have even a bit of the handsome leader’s heart for herself, for his strength, his dominance, his passion to be reserved in some way, some small way, for her alone. It frustrated her immensely that he showed nothing for her beyond the sex act itself, no matter how hard she tried to please him.
     
    The old, withered man who had guarded entry to the enclosure when Sara first arrived, now swung the gate open and two men stepped through, heading for the torchlit area at the back of the enclosure.
    “Line up,” ordered Rainura. The women all rose from under the shelter, forming a procession of sorts. “Hold your hands before you.” The women did what they were told.
    The two men walked down the line, binding the hands of all of the women. “You sure are a pretty one,” leered one of the men at Sara as he bound her wrists. “Not often we get foreign pussy.” He shook his head. It was too bad he didn’t rank high enough to warrant a go at her. Sometimes, when a chieftain was displeased in some manner, a woman was turned out to the rest of the men. Now that was always something, even if the woman didn’t often survive long in the ensuing savagery. Maybe they would get lucky tonight.
    He slapped Sara’s ass as he finished, causing her to jump, and moved on to the next woman in line. When finished, the soldiers linked the women together with a long length of rope.
    The old man swung the gate open again and the men, carrying small torches, led the women to a huge bonfire around which Arystan’s chieftains sprawled in a semi-circle, their eyes dark and hungry. Although there were thousands in the camp, most were not of sufficient status to merit such a reward. Those warriors spent festival nights eating roasted goat, drinking around other bonfires, some even cavorting with their own comrades.
    The intoxicating music of the long, reed ney flutes stopped abruptly and an erotic, thumping drumbeat picked up. A man at the center of the bonfire rose, his strongly muscled chest glistening in the dancing light of the flames. His black eyes swept past the fire to the line of women, their faces in shadow. As leader, Arystan was entitled to select first.
    He first turned to his chieftains and made a short speech about the women and his intent to reward each of them for their fealty to him. This was met with enthusiastic hoots and growls.
    If truth be told, Arystan cared little for this ritual but continued it regularly as it kept his libidinous chieftains more than appeased. He preferred to strategize about battle, practice his fighting skills, thunder across the open steppes on his great, strong horses. Pussy was simply pussy. He fucked women thoroughly, even animalistically, but it was just that –
    fucking. Once he’d sated his need, he could return to other pursuits until the urge was upon him again. But . . . the ceremony was good in other aspects. It was heady to watch his