"Daria, the Warrior Queen" (closed to current writers)

"I don't know where that is. You would take me?"

Meara looked surprised as Gwent stepped close again. Meara looked at his hand. Her hand was gently placed in his. "I do not doubt you could support me but am I worthy of your caring?" Once more large, blue eyes full of fear and unsureness looked up at him.
 
"I don't know where that is. You would take me?"

"I would," Gwent said with a widening smile. "I know where it is. It is a beautiful place, and you would be happy there. We would be happy there ... together."

When she asked if he thought she was worthy of being cared for by him, Gwent's smiled widened with delight at her innocence. She had no idea of how wonderful a woman she was ... and -- because of her training -- of how wonderful a wife she would be. Gwent, like with most soldiers, had his fair share of experience with women, but -- again, like with most soldiers -- the fair share of those women had only been doing what they did best because they were paid for it. He had never been with a woman who wished to please and satisfy him for any other reason than coin.

"Come with me, Meara," he said, leading her back to the nearby horse. "Let's leave this place. It is a long ride to Oont'lands. If, at some point, you change your mind … if you decide not to remain with me … under my protection, as my Charge … or as my betrothed … I will honor your decision. I will ensure you are safe, wherever you decide to be … and I will fade from your life."

He helped her back up onto the horse, again putting her in front of him. Mounting himself, Gwent pulled Meara a bit tighter to him this time; it was most definitely a bit more intimate than before, though, if he felt any resistance from Meara, Gwent would lessen his hold on her.

"There is a town to the east … Yarlham," he told her and he urged the horse forward. She knew of it, of course, as it was a trading partner to her former Greendale. "We can be there before nightfall."

They rode at a slow canter this time as Gwent wanted to reach the town before dark. The town sat on an island in the midst of a wide river, and they crossed over the bridge just as the sun disappeared beyond the mountains behind them. Black Army guards were stationed at the bridge, and they stopped the pair to inquire about their identities and purposes for being in Yarlham. Gwent had told Meara before arriving there that they would not use her Pass; he saw no reason to reveal her apparent importance, so he used his uniform and his own pass to get them within the pole stockade that protected the town of about 1,000 people.

He stopped before an Inn, helped Meara down, waved over a boy from the nearby stables, and gave him a pair of coins to take care of the horse and tack. Inside, he found them a table and ordered two generic meals and ale before looking to Meara with a serious expression on his face.

"I can rent each of us a room," he told her softly. After a moment's hesitation, he said, "Or … I could rent us a single room..."

He didn't finish that with so that we could sleep together and fuck. He knew she would understand what he was asking. It wasn't uncommon in these parts and times for men and women who were betrothed to participate in pre-marital sex. But honestly, Meara hadn't yet accepted Gwent's proposal; she'd only asked him if he was sure he wanted her.
 
The most recent battle had ended; the Black Army had prevailed. All that remained was for Daria to explain to the vanquished the options they faced. She'd been at the front line throughout the day's fighting; she wore the blood of more than her share of slain enemy. She didn't see the common soldier as her enemy, though, so most of the blood splashed upon her armor, across her flesh, even in her hair was that of her opposing Earl's officers.

The survivors of the enemy force were gathered together in the center of the most recent battlefield, on their knees, unbound but disarmed. Half of the surviving Black Army surrounded them -- they, of course, were armed -- while the rest of Daria's force collected the slain bodies of their fellow warriors, gathering them for a proper funeral pyre later that evening.

Daria rode Midnight at a slow canter through a gap presented her by her encircled men, then dismounted. She let the survivors of the enemy force see her, covered in the blood of their friends, family, and neighbors before a member of her Bodyguard helped her out of the majority of the armor protecting her upper half.

Leading Midnight, Daria began a slow walk between the encircling Black Army soldiers and the enemy soldiers pressed together on the bloodied ground. When she'd completed the circle, she handed the reins of Midnight to Lord Kriggen. She knew he saw himself above tending to her mount, like a common soldier or even a peasant stable boy, but that was why she'd tasked him with it; at times, every man and woman serving under her needed reminding that that was exactly where they were … under her.

"Nine days ago," she called out over the 200+ survivors, pointing off to a small hillock half a mile away, "I stood right there on that rise … and I offered your Lord a peaceful way to become part of my realm. He refused. Instead … he sent you men into harm's way … to this place … to this battlefield … to be slaughtered by a superior force … a force about which I had warned him … a force that he'd known would kill many of you ... your friends … your brothers … your fathers and sons..."

She looked over her shoulder to a member of her Bodyguard, who in turn looked beyond the encircled Black Army soldiers to a nearby location. Daria continued, "Your Lord did this … sent you here to die … because he didn't care about you … about your lives … about your futures.[/I]"

The gap from earlier opened again, and the Earl whose forces had been so soundly defeated was led inward with his hands bound before him and a rope around his neck. The Bodyguard led the Lord to a point between Daria and the enemy survivors and forced him to his knees; he was softly pleading for his life.

"You have blood upon you, because you fought bravely during this engagement that was not of your making," she continued, speaking to the foot soldiers and no-longer-mounted cavalry men. "My men have blood upon them for they fought, too … and I have blood upon me … for I would never send my men into a fight in which I myself would not partake … a fight in which I would not risk my life … as I was risking the lives of my own men."

Daria nodded to the Bodyguard holding the Lord's tether. He forced the man back to his feet and began pulling him along that same circle past his men that Daria had taken a moment ago. As he did, Daria called out, "Do you see any blood on your Lord...? Do you see any sign that he was willing to take the same risk that you took … the risk of being harmed … of being killed … of never again returning home to your family … your loved ones … your lives...?"

She gave the enemy a chance to view their leader, then continued, "You will not find blood splattered upon your Lord's armor or skin … because he wasn't at this battle, was he...? No...! While you were here fighting for him … he was sitting behind the stone and draw bridge of his castle ten miles from here … hiding … unwilling to risk his life as he was more than willing to risk your lives."

The Bodyguard had made the full circle and, once again, shoved the Lord down to you his knees once more. Daria called out, "Do you think it's fair that while you were out here on the battlefield, risking your lives … watching your fellow soldiers being killed all about you … that your Lord was at home in his safe little castle … drinking wine and eating cheese … while a peasant girl … perhaps a sister to one or more of you … or … perhaps a wife … was in that bed with him … naked … and sucking his cock?"

By this point -- even before the very lewd and very real description of how the man had been caught -- Daria could see that many of the enemy soldiers on the ground were beginning to show their discontent with having been sent to their potential deaths by this man. This, of course, was the desired result of all she was doing.

"Nine days...!" she repeated. "Nine days of you shedding your blood for a Lord who doesn't care whether you live or die … a man who could have simply bent a knee to me … and thus prevented all this death."

She watched and listened to the growing resentment amongst many of the captured soldiers, then said, "The only thing keeping you and your loved ones from living a long, peaceful, and productive, life … under my benevolent rule..."

Daria pulled a dagger from her belt and tossed it onto the ground … in between the still whimpering Lord and the nearest of his soldiers whose face was now tense with hatred for him. Daria finished her obvious invitation as she pointed toward the Earl, "The only thing preventing you from having that … is this coward."

She almost hadn't finished what she was saying when one of the enemy soldiers sprang to his feet, grasped the big knife, rushed the now screaming Lord, and began plunging the blade into him repeatedly. A second and a third soldier had also leapt and run forward; the latter of them snatched the knife and continued the sinking of the blade deep into the nobleman who -- it was probably obvious -- was likely already dead.

Daria was standing near enough to this that blood flung through the air from the blade to form a line of dots across her belly and chest. Two members of her Bodyguard had moved up close, fearing that the blade may have been used against her instead, but she waved them back with confidence. The mass of enemy soldiers was alive with calls and cheers; some of them who didn't agree with their Lord's execution got into fights with the others, but they were soundly beat down to the ground, and later it would be learned that three of them had been beaten to death.

The episode reached its zenith when -- amidst an attacking force of now 9 -- one of the resentful soldiers suddenly stood tall … and held aloft by its long, bloody hair the head of their former Lord. The man walked about the edge of the circle of soldiers -- some cheering, some silent with shock, others simply uncertain -- then turned to face Daria. Under the watchful eye of her Bodyguards -- as the other 8 men were urged back to the group and the dagger retrieved -- the celebrating man approached his vanquisher, dropped to his knees, and held the head above him; blood still exiting the severed skull ran down his arms.

Daria stepped forward, took the gift, and dangled it casually at her side...

Tonight, she would be having yet another of the coat of arms tattoos on her inner thigh scratched through with a red line...

...and that … that thought … it made her think of Meara.
 
Meara let him lead her back to the horse. She didn’t protest or withdraw as Gwent pulled closer on the horse. She was nervous but glad for his company and protection. She kept thinking of his offer as they rode.

She remained very quiet as they approached the bridge. Meara simply nodded as Gwent told her they would not use her pass. She didn’t know why it mattered but she knew so little of these things that she trusted him completely. Meara curled back against Gwent as if trying to hide from the guards. They were let past and she relaxed a little.

Meara sat and looked at Gwent, her eyes met his. “Thank you for the food and…” She blushed. “A single room is fine. I do not wish for you to spend your coin on me more than is necessary.”

With a shy smile she ate her food. When they were done, Meara followed Gwent as he secured the room and led the way to it. He unlocked the door and let her in first. Meara stepped in and looked around. The room was simple but clean. The innkeeper came bringing two pitchers of water and towels. There was a basin on a table for quick washing up. Meara took the water and towels, immediately setting up so Gwent could wash up.

She sat on the edge of the bed looking very nervous and very shy.
 
“A single room is fine," Meara replied regarding their sleeping arrangements for the night. "I do not wish for you to spend your coin on me more than is necessary.”

Gwent attempted to suppress a smile of joy. Was the young beauty really trying to save him coin? Or was she quietly confirming her desire to be with him as much as he wished to be with her?

The room wasn't much, not that he'd expected it to be: a bed large enough to two people to sleep in close proximity, a bureau with an empty wash basin, some inexpensive scratchy-looking towels and wash rags over which was an ancient, polished metal mirror, a chair, and a wardrobe that was missing one of its two doors. Looking out the window, Gwent saw a tiny balcony and, beyond that, the dirt road and beyond that the stables at which he could just barely see the boy brushing down his horse in the light of an oil lamp, likely hoping to score an extra coin in the morning.

As the innkeeper situated the water pitchers and then departed again, Gwent shed his riding jacket and arms belt, followed by a few pieces of his uniform, including his boots. When he looked to Meara, he found her on the edge of the bed looking one scary moment away from leaping out the window.

"You should wash first," he said politely, explaining that he wouldn't want her to have to deal with the water dirtied by his body. "I can step outside until you are ready for me to return."

Before she responded, Gwent quickly added, "And I can sleep on the floor tonight. I will sleep on the floor … obviously. It's … it's the proper thing, I think."

He didn't want to sleep on the floor, obviously. He wanted to sleep in the bed, with Meara … with Meara on her back, knees parted, while he thrusted deep and hard until he filled her with his seed. But … he was going to be a gentleman to the village girl … if that was what she wanted from him.
 
"There is no need to leave." Meara crossed to Gwent. "Let me repay you." She began to slowly to undress him as she had learned, as she had done to Daria. "There are two pitchers. Let me wash you with one and I will use the other."

She was nervous. She had never undressed a man before but she treated it the same as if she was undressing Daria. His shirt, his pants...her fingers move over his skin in soft sensual movements. When he was finally undressed, naked before her, Meara stepped back and blushed.

She reached for a cloth, wet it and began to wash his body. She rinsed the cloth periodically to wash him with only clean water. She started at his neck and ended by washing his manhood. Her face was warm, her cheeks pink. She took her time, unused to bathing a man.
 
Near Greendale

She had been born Lady Lauren of Marconi, but no one knew her by that name these days. To be honest, know one knew her by any name save one: The Collector.

She was a spy and an informant -- a collector of information -- and she sold her services to anyone who could pay. The person doing the paying today was the Warrior Queen of the Northlands. Lauren had been in Daria's employ in the past. In fact, it was her information about the Western Ridge that had enabled her Black Army to pass through them to conquer their latest Earldom.

Today's mission was a bit different. Today, Lauren was looking not for a mountain pass but for a person, a young women named Meara of Greendale. Queen Daria hadn't had had very little information about the girl's whereabouts, but it seemed to make sense that she might have come back this direction. The only other option that the Queen had thought was likely was that Meara would go in search of another young beauty, and island girl with whom Meara had had a friendship.

Vallaana's location was known, the County of Hightop, on the east coast of the continent, to the north of the river and swamp lands collectively known as the Oont'lands. Hightop was far away, another month farther than the Low Lands to which -- unknown to Lauren -- her target was going. It only made sense for the Collector to start closer to home and look for Meara of Greendale … in Greendale.

"You say there was a girl here...?" she asked the man leaning against the stump of a recently fallen tree, "...with a man, an escort, in a Black Army uniform?"

When the man didn't answer, she grasped the arrow buried into his shoulder and a couple of inches out the back and twisted it, causing him to scream in pain. Lauren looked around herself, as some of the others; many of them had weapons -- a dagger here, a pitchfork there, a small ax over yonder -- but none of them were going to approach the woman who had already killed four of their kind … with four arrows.

"She was here!" she man screamed out, begging Lauren to stop. "They left … yesterday!"

"And this man with her, he wore the uniform of the Black Army," Lauren inquired again. When the screaming man said he didn't know because he hadn't seen the man -- "He thumped me in the head, I didn't see him !" -- Lauren looked to the others, asking, "Did anyone see this man?"

No one had, but one of the women pointed to the man bleeding out and said, "But he knew who the girl was. He said she was the Northland Queen's slave … her bed warmer. He tried to take her captive … for money."

Lauren stood, approached the woman, and held out her hand; in her open palm were six coins. "Tell me everything you remember … about this girl … about the man with her … about this prick bleeding all over one of my best arrows."

The woman did, and Lauren paid her. She asked if the man she'd shot was kin to any of those in the camp and was told no, that he'd come across the camp dyas earlier and injected himself, without offering anything in return for the food he was eating nor the young mother he was fucking. Lauren thanked the woman, stepped back, and with amazing speed and skill, whipped out an arrow, notched it, drew, and sent the missile … right into the man's mouth as he was still crying out for help.

Lauren mounted her horse again, wheeled it away … and headed out looking for the girl whose location -- and safety -- were of utmost concern for Queen Daria.
 
"There is no need to leave."

Gwent's heart felt as if it had skipped a beat, despite his not knowing precisely what was going to take place here between them if he didn't leave. She could have simply meant I'm going to sleep in the bed, you're going to sleep on the floor, and neither of us are going to wash anything more than our faces and hands.

But a moment later, the young beauty was undressing him. Gwent was amazed with how sensuous and erotic she made it all seem; his muscular chest was swelling and abating with deep breaths, and his cock … well, fuck, it was hard as a rock and twitching anxiously by the time she pulled his undergarment off and released it to the world.

Meara went to work bathing Gwent's body as he stood in a corner of the room over top one of the towels. It took every bit of his energy and discipline not to simply grasp the women, throw her on the bed, and fuck the hell out of her. But he did, even after her hands began caressing over and all around his manhood, cleansing it just as wonderfully as she had the rest of him.

"I need to be inside you," Gwent said before he even realized he was speaking the words. "Please."

He looked down at Meara; her head was level with his groin, just inches from his often twitching cock. He'd actually meant that he wanted to fuck her; he'd never had his cock inside a woman's mouth before, although he knew that most of the whores following the Black Army did that in place of fucking when their Moon Cycle meant a significant threat of pregnancy. But what ever Meara did to him right now that meant him releasing his build up of seed, Gwent would go along with that.
 
Meara looked up at him, blue eyes meeting his. "Lay on the bed, please."

She had learned with Naan that when he was laying down it was easier to take him into her mouth further. She stood and let Gwent move to the bed and lay down. She climbed up and situated herself between his legs. It was all she knew how to do with a man so Meara did...her mouth moved over the head of his manhood and she began to bob her head slowly. She took her cues from the noises Gwent made just as Vallaana had taught her. Her tongue moved, she swallowed back the saliva and eventually buried him all the way in her mouth. Her hand fondled and played with his balls.

Meara wanted to thank him, to show him that she appreciated all he had done for her so far and claimed he would do for her.

Her head moved, the pace increasing as she heard his breathing change. She wanted him to feel good, it was all she could offer him.
 
Gwent moved to the bed as requested, expecting Meara to undress and either mount him or let him roll atop her. He was surprised -- happily so -- when she lowered her head to his groin and took his raging cock into her mouth. He drew a conspicuously deep breath at the sudden and unbelievable sensation, moaning loudly, "Oh, dear Gods..."

He couldn't take his eyes off of Meara initially, watching her with wide eyes as her lips, tongue, and fingers so rapidly pushed him toward climax. How was this possible...? How did this young thing know to do this to a man … to him? Repeatedly, Gwent's head fell back into the bed, only for him to struggle to lift it to watch again, as if not watching would cause it to suddenly become nothing but a daydream.

It didn't take long, of course; the soldier was already primed from the very sensuous rag bath. With a mighty moan, Gwent's cock leaped in Meara's mouth, firing a thick wad of ejaculate, followed by another, and another, and another

Gwent was no virgin … but what the former sex slave was doing to him was like nothing he'd ever experienced before. His brain was lost to a fog of euphoria … his heart pounded so hard it almost hurt; he could hear the blood surging through his ears.
 
Meara kept going until Gwent twitched and pulsed in her mouth. She swallowed it all. It was as if he would never stop.

She kept going though wanting him to feel good, to be pleased with her. When he finally slowed she let her lips slowly trail up his cock. Her hand stroked him and she licked away any more drips that he produced. Meara looked at him as he laid in the bed. "I have only done that once before when I was taught how to please."

She was looking at him, her eyes hopeful that he had enjoyed what she had done. It seemed like based on his reaction and how much he had filled her mouth. Very gently she crawled out of the bed and moved to the get the other pitcher of water. She moved to the corner, stood on the towel and undressed. She began washing down her body, her back to him.
 
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"I have only done that once before when I was taught how to please."

Gwent forced himself to lift his head; his brain was still swimming, and his face was filled with joy. He laughed in amazement, and -- assuming she was speaking of Naan -- said with obvious appreciation, "Lucky man."

He watched her rise and cross to strip and begin bathing herself. He rolled to his side and simply ogled the young beauty. He recalled what she had said about herself and countered, "Meara, you are the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. I don't want you to ever say otherwise. No one compares. I always thought Mistress Daria was the most incredible woman upon whom my eyes had lain … but … even she doesn't compare to what stands before me."

He sat up as it seemed Meara was finishing and held a hand out for her; his cock was semi-erect, but as she came to him, it began to immediately perk up. He whispered, "Come to me. I want to make love to you … I want to be your lover, your man. Will you...? Before we are wed?"

If she allowed, he would urge her up into his lap as he sat on the bed's edge … he would pull her close … he would grasp his cock and put it at her sex, before intruding upon her innocence...

If she denied him, Gwent would understand. He would be disappointed … but he would understand. She'd just sucked his cock and swallowed his seed … but that wasn't the same as having a man put that seed into her womb and possible making her with child...
 
Meara kept her back to him as Gwent talked. "The queen is the most beautiful woman..."

She turned and he was sitting up on the bed. She was nervous, her hand went into his and as he pulled her in he could feel her trembling. "You- with me?"

Meara knelt on the bed, her legs on either side of his legs. She bit her lower lip, eyes shining. He was gentle, steadying her as he slowly pushed her down.

She cried out in pain as he entered her. She was small, petite and her sex was as well. Gwent was big and as he tore through her hymen it hurt. Her arms wrapped about his neck, her face buried in his neck.
 
"Mistress...?"

Daria was laid back in her bath being pleasured -- rather ineffectively -- by Hamma when the Bodyguard called from beyond the closed door flap. She ignored him initially, still hopeful that the freewoman fondling her sex could get the job done.

"Enough," she finally whispered to the young woman. She commanded Hamma out of the tub, and as she herself rose with a disappointed expression on her face, she called to the door, "What is it?"

The guard reported, "The testar művész ka has arrived."

Daria snatched the soft towel from the servant and dried herself, telling Hamma to prepare her bed for what was to come. She donned a long flowing robe that opened at the front and called again to the guard to see the woman inside. Taking her place amongst the pillows Hamma had arranged, Daria pressed a finger tip to a coat of arms on the inside of her left thigh.

"This one," she told the body artist. She clarified, "The House of Wedrock."

The elderly woman laid out her needles, holders, hammer, and ink; only red for the diagonal stripe and black for the border were necessary to void a House, of course. Daria was asked by the old woman if she wanted a local Упойка -- an anesthetic -- made of a combination of roots and berry stems, a salve that could be spread to deaden the flesh for several hours.

"I endured the pain of having that tattoo put there ... to remind me of the pain I endured at the hands of the members of that House," she chastised. "Why would I want the elimination of that tattoo … of that House to be painless … to be easily forgotten? Do your work."

The old woman did as required, and -- as she had so many times before -- Daria endured the expected pain … thinking of those men who had wronged her so long ago … but also … also thinking about the young woman who now seemed to be the only person who could take her to the heights of euphoria that made her forget -- even if just for a moment, an hour, or an evening -- the horrors that had made her who she was now …
 
"The queen is the most beautiful woman..."

Meara was not wrong, of course. Daria was one of the most beautiful woman upon whom Gwent had ever laid his eyes. He'd seen her naked before, too. But while he'd masturbated to the fantasy of being between those strong thighs while lost in the pillows of her elegant bed, Gwent had always known that he'd never have his cock inside that particular hole.

That was part of what made Meara so beautiful to him: her availability. That wasn't all, of course. She was indeed absolute female perfection, with her tight, young body and her delicious curves and her firm breasts … and that face! Daria was dramatic, of course, but Meara was angelic … and that alone would have led Gwent to want to be with her today, tomorrow, forever.

He pulled her up into his lap, grasping her buttocks in his powerful hands to pull her sex up hard against the underside of his now raging hard cock. He rolled his body as he maneuvered her against his shaft, wetting it as he pressed his mouth to hers in what began as a hesitant kiss but soon became more passionate as Meara relaxed. But Gwent could still sense the nervousness in the girl's body; for all that she'd done in bed with a man or with other women, having a cock deep inside her was something entirely different.

Gwent reached down between their respective crotches and moved the bulbous head of his erection against her labia, then within them. He found her entrance and attempted to push himself inside Meara. She whimpered, either from the pain or the anxiety or both. He realized he wasn't going to easily get inside her like this. He turned her, laying her back, and once again used a hand to aim himself to the target.

It took work to penetrate her, but Gwent did. He felt Meara's entire body tense up as he worked into her, inch by inch, pulling out and pushing in again as his shaft was wetted by her lubricant. He hesitated as he heard her soft cry, then her louder one as he broke through her hymen. He'd never been with a virgin before, and honestly, he didn't know that much about them, as if they were a rare breed about which no one he knew had thought to tell him. Actually, that wasn't so different from the truth; if Gwent had thought about it, he would have realized that the only men he knew who had ever taken a woman's virginity had done so while raping her, likely following the taking of hostages, as had been done after the conquest of Greendale.

Gwent felt Meara's face press into his neck near his collar bone, and a moment later he felt the unmistakable sensation of tears against his skin. He ceased his movements in and out of her and whispered with a sincere tone, "I can stop, Meara. I do not wish to hurt you. Tell me to stop, and I will."

He didn't want to stop, of course, any more than he'd wanted to sleep on the floor. But he had a respect for this young woman that he'd never had for anyone … not even his Mistress. His respect for the Warrior Queen had been based more upon fear than upon love … which he was already beginning to feel for the girl laying beneath him … crying.
 
Meara was trembling. The pain was starting to subside. She tried to shake her head but couldn't do so fully. "No, don't stop. You are just so big...and it hurt..."

Innocently, Meara moved and he went deeper. She gasped. Her arms held him. Her blue eyes were bright from the tears. "Don't stop, Gwent. Please."

The bed was stained with flecks of blood. Meara took a hand and placed it on his cheek. "Go slow please."
 
Gwent felt horrible for causing Meara such discomfort, particularly when it was so obvious that if he simply quit, that pain would quit as well. But the young woman's pussy was so wet, warm, and tight around his yearning cock that he found himself unable to withdraw until the deed was done.

"I am sorry," he whispered as he once again begun thrusting slowly but fully into her. He kissed her forehead lovingly, and shifted his body about looking for an angle that might not pain Meara as much, but that only seemed to cause more harm for her without a reciprocating increase in pleasure for himself.

"I will be quick," he said. "This won't last long."

Gwent did not understanding that one day, that would likely be the last thing that Meara -- like most sex-loving women -- would want to hear from their lover. He found a position and entry that was the most beneficial to his own personal goal of cumming inside the young virgin and simple went to it, trying his best to ignore Meara's continuing whimpers. It didn't take long, just as he'd promised; thrusting one final time deep inside her, Gwent grunted loudly with intense satisfaction as his cock once again began pulsing with delight into one of Meara's holes.
 
Meara was tense and that certainly did not help her enjoyment. He apologized and all Meara could do was put her head back and try not to cry too hard.

He promised her it would be quick which was alright given it was uncomfortable. Then something started to change as just as Gwent was starting to climax Meara felt some of the discomfort start to fade.

He held her close for a moment before moving away to allow her to shift into the bed and get comfortable for sleeping. His eyes fell on the blood that was on the bed and he once more felt bad for hurting her.

Meara laid on her side, Gwent curled up behind her and held her to him. Her body ached and Meara wondered what she had done wrong that she did not enjoy it. She had expected some pain but she had also thought she might find some enjoyment in it. That thought carried her into her sleep.

The next morning, Gwent was kissing neck and she could feel him hard against her backside. Meara rolled to her back and he took it as an invitation. His hand stroked her cheek as his other guided his cock against her folds. She found herself wishing he would touch her like Vallaana and Daria had. Gwent began to work himself into her. He was trying to go slow both for her and for himself. He was rewarded for his restraint by the growing slickness he was feeling and his ability to move into her easier.

Meara relaxed and found if she moved her hips with his movements it made it feel good. She was beginning to enjoy the sensation, her breathing starting to pick up and her body warming with arousal. It was short lived as once they found a rhythm Gwent was too overcome and began to thrust deeper as he climaxed once more inside of her.
 
Gwent again let out a grunt of satisfaction as his cock began unloading within Meara's tightness. She seemed to enjoy the fuck this time around ... or ... maybe she simply tolerated it with less pain. Either way, her youthful sex offered too much to the man's eager cock for him to lengthy the encounter long enough for her to take from it what he would.

He laid beside Meara for quite sometime, holding her to him as his body descended from the heights to which she sent him. They rose eventually, cleaned themselves with the fresh water the innkeeper brought up for them when called, and headed down into the tavern for breakfast. The innkeeper's daughter -- a sexy young thing with almost white skin and a mass of red curls framing her face -- wrapped some bread, cheese, dried meat, and sun dried fruits in a thin cloth, tied it shut and presented it to them for their meal on the road.

"Thank you," Gwent told the girl as he pressed twice the appropriate amount of coins into her palm. "This was very kind of you."

He'd just claimed the virginity of one beauty, and yet he couldn't help but feel his cock hardening at the thought of this very different one on her hands and knees in his bed as he claimed her innocence as well. The experience with Meara had emboldened Gwent's confidence regarding women; he still believed that he and Meara were meant to be together, but … well … fuck, this sweet young thing had a smile that would bring a battle to a halt while the warriors of both sides contemplated the possibilities with her.

They retrieved their horse from the stables and mounted it, but Gwent saw the reaction to Meara when she tried to straddle the saddle. He pulled her down, climbed up into the saddle, and arranged his military Field Blanket on the saddle between his thighs. Then with great strength, Gwent leaned, grasped Meara by the upper arms, and easily and gently lifted her up to sit side saddle before him, her legs draped over one of his thighs. The pain between her thighs seemed to be eased, causing him to chuckle.

"If we are going to continue to … do that," he said with humor, meaning fuck, obviously, "perhaps we need to buy you a cart with a donkey leading it."

He lifted a hand to Meara's face, turning her to face him as he kissed her softly but passionately. Gwent loved kissing this girl, for she really knew what to do with her lips. It hadn't occurred to him that Meara had been trained in the art; he'd assumed she'd only learned the important stuff -- the things that made men cum -- such as what she'd done to him with her lips and tongue the night before.

They traveled east, then north, then east again until the found the Oont'lands road. They began to pass more people now as they came upon the main trading routes between five different Counties. They also began to encounter more and larger Black Army detachments. They got stopped more than once for not displaying a locally issued pass, which was little more than a colorful banner that was to be hung from their horse or themselves while traveling.

They were forced to purchase one for six Coppers, enough coin to feed them both a satisfying lunch at a tavern. Gwent began to get very peeved about the treatment, particularly since showing either his and Meara's passes which had come directly from the Queen should have provided them free passage anywhere within her realm.

They put up with this madness for three days and nights, the latter spent camping or staying once more in little inns along the main road.

To cross one guarded bridge, he was asked to pay twelve Coppers, at which point he openly and loudly accused the guards there of corruption. He'd already let Meara down to the ground to rest her weary bum and legs, and was facing off with the two soldiers. The confrontation began to get very heated, at which point Gwent began speaking of how he'd been with the Black Army in battle and had been a Bodyguard for the Queen herself, while they were rejects who couldn't be trusted with anything more than protecting a bridge from peasant farmers and shepherds.

Suddenly, one of the men pulled a light club from a metal ring on his belt and slammed Gwent from behind, right between his shoulders. The Bodyguard went down, and a second blow put him on his face. Then, simultaneously the four corrupt men looked to the young beauty who was now no longer protected by her valiant Gwent.
 
Meara noticed but said nothing about the way Gwent acted with the innkeeper's daughter. She kept her eyes on the floor still not used to the idea that she was free. Besides, her mother had told her that good obedient wives never question their husbands. They were not married yet but Meara didn't want to give Gwent a reason to get rid of her.

She was overwhelmed by how caring he was being as he noticed her discomfort and adjusted things for her. Meara stared up at him as Gwent lifted her. He was strong and caring and...his lips were on hers and Meara kissed him back, matching his passion.

Over the next three days they talked as they rode. Her discomfort riding eased up. Her enjoyment of sex with him was steadily growing. Meara found herself getting aroused by a touch of his hand in her hair and the way he kissed her. By the third night, Meara actually felt confident enough to take his hand and put it on her breast. She still had not yet managed to orgasm from intercourse with him but it was getting closer each time.

At the bridge, Meara stood beside the horse and rolled her shoulders. She was stiff from riding and sleeping on the ground. The good parts of it were being close to Gwent. She liked the feel of his body against her, arms around her and the way he held her close to keep her warm.

She frowned as the men got more aggressive in their insistence of payment. When the man hit Gwent, Meara was initially too shocked to do anything. The second blow caused her to scream and she ran towards him.

Hands grabbed her. Meara screamed and kicked out. She kept screaming for Gwent and for them to let her go. They dragged her aways a little and forced her on her stomach.

"No! No! Please! Don't!" Meara was clawing at the ground.

"Put something in her mouth to shut her up. People will come to check on the noise."

"You bite me and I will rip your tongue out."

Meara's head was lifted by her hair and a cock shoved in her mouth. She tried to scream and push him away. Her wrists were grabbed, arms wrenched behind her. Her dress was lifted. The man in her mouth was thrusting now and Meara gagged, tasting vomit in her mouth.

The other men were arguing over who was going to get her first. No one noticed an angry Gwent. His face was bloody. His blade cut down two and the other two were slow to react. Meara hit the ground as they all released her.

Meara vomited again onto the ground. She was sobbing and she tried to crawl away. She wanted to get away from the men.
 
"Put something in her mouth to shut her up," one of the bridge guards hollered at his cohort in the imminent rape. As he and the others fought over who was going to be first to fill another one of the peasant girl's holes, he warned, "People will come to check on the noise."

"I have something to put in her mouth," the man standing before said as he began unbuckling things about his waist. As he trousers and undergarment fell away to reveal his rapidly hardening cock, he told her, "You bite me and I will rip your tongue out."

Pulling back the girl's head with a handful of her hair, ramming his manhood into the Meara's mouth as it was opened for screaming was as easy as aim and thrust. She gagged, of course, but that mattered not to him. When he felt her teeth upon his sensitive skin, he slapped her with his free hand, warning her again, "Keep those fucking fangs off me … unless you want me to knock them out!"

The man's rapid movements at and away from the sobbing girl's face got frantic as he realized how well she was cooperating. As his buddies gotten Meara's dress up and her undergarment down, exposing her ass and thighs and the sex she was trying to keep safe within them, he laughed in glee, telling them, "This little bitch … has had … a few cocks in her mouth … before us. Should we be … happy … she's skilled ... or--"

He never finished his question as the pleasure peeked and his cock began spurting his discharge into Meara's mouth. His head fell back as he rammed his cock deep into the girl's throat. He was so overwhelmed by the euphoria that he had no idea what was happening before him other than the ecstasy...

...until he thought he heard something that was just not quite right and open his eyes … just in time to see a blade cutting through the air at his face neck. He was dead before he hit the ground, his skull rolling away, over the bank, and down into the creek where it would feed the crayfish and mollusks downstream for days to come. His cock was continuing to spit out milky white cum, the droplets hitting the road and balling up with the dust sticking to the outside of them.

"Meara...! Meara...!" a panicked and still somewhat unsteady Gwent pleaded to the girl. "Are you alright? Are you hurt?"

It was a stupid question, of course; she'd been attacked and had her mouth raped. But while Gwent knew all that, he couldn't be certain yet as to whether she'd taken any life threatening physical harm. He looked for bloodied wounds but saw none, thankfully. With that, he surveyed the situation … and concluded his business with the men: he put the blade deep into the chests of each of the three other men, only one of whom had actually still been alive, wiped the sword across one of the corpse's tunics, slipped it back into his belt, and went to retrieve his lover.

"I'm here, Meara," Gwent said as he rolled her to her back and lifted her into his powerful arms. He looked beyond the bridge and found what he thought would be cover; already, voices were calling out from various directions about the mayhem taking place at the bridge. "We need to hide."

Grasping the reins of his horse, Gwent hurried on foot into the town and up between two buildings where shade hid them from the midday sun. Meara was sobbing and looked about to vomit again; he set her down against the building and leaned her head over, just in case. He tried to comfort her with soft words and promises of his protection for her.

As he looked out into the town for evidence that they were being pursued, Gwent couldn't help but think If I hadn't been with her, would she have been safer? He honestly didn't know the answer. Gwent feared that the reason the men had attempted to rape Meara -- and succeeded in one sense -- had been because he'd put up resistance. Was he more of a threat to her than protection?

"There he is!" a voice called out. A peasant pointed Gwent's way and looked off toward charging soldiers. "There! He's there! The man who murdered the guards!"

Three, and then three more Black Army Reserve soldiers rushed toward the two strangers who'd attacked their cohorts, obviously for no reason at all. Gwent stood, pulled his sword again, and pulled away his cape to show his Queen's Bodyguard uniform underneath, even though he doubted that the clothes -- altered a bit from that which the others wore -- would be recognizable to them.

He was in the middle of trying to explain who he was when suddenly an arrow from out of nowhere pierced the neck of the soldier nearest to Gwent. The man teetered and fell to the ground like a rag doll. The man's sudden demise caught the attention of the other five men, just in time to have the chest of another man catch a second missile.

"This man is a member of the Warrior Queen Daria's personal Bodyguard!" the female archer called from atop her horse. "The next man to take a step nearer to him will be taken to your Mistress in chains … to be skinned alive and then burned on a stake … alongside his entire family."

She drew a third arrow and aimed it at the now panicking soldiers who were wishing they'd carried their shields rather than leaving the heavy things at the barracks. She chastised them some more, telling them to look at Gwent's uniform; she also told Gwent to show his papers, which he did. The men stuck their swords away, apologized to Lauren, then to Gwent, and began to back away.

"I would like my arrows back, if you please," she called to them. They looked between one another and at the woman with expressions of disbelief. Suddenly, that third arrow shot through the air, striking one of the men in the calf. Lauren said softly, "That one, too."

The men did as ordered, pulling the shafts from their friends and cautiously handing the to the woman after she'd dismounted and approached them. She shooed them away, then turned to Gwent. Smiling, she gave him a polite, respectful bow, saying, "Greetings, Gwent of Tall Cedar."

Gwent just stared at the woman for a moment before asking, "Who are you...? And how do you know my name...? And how the hell do you know I am from Tall Cedar? No one knows that."

"My name is of no matter," she said mysteriously. "Only my aim is of importance. I have been sent by the Warrior Queen Daria of the Northlands … to ensure that you are safe … to ensure that you are well..."

She looked directly at Meara this time, meeting the poor girl's eyes before finishing, "And to ask Miss Meara … if she would like to come home … where she belongs … with Daria."
 
All Meara was aware of was that Gwent held her. She burned her face in his neck. His smell, that she was coming to know and enjoy was comforting.

When he put her down, Meara put a hand on the building to stabilize herself. She felt sick. As the nausea passed over her she turned, intent on Gwent and his injuries. It was too late though. A cry of alarm called the guards to them. Meara hid behind him, her fingers gripping his clothing. She looked around as the men approached. Gwent was trying to explain who he was but it didn't seem to matter to them.

The cries of the men caused Meara to peer around Gwent. she took in the woman on the horse. She seemed to know who Gwent was and this seemed to confuse Gwent.

At the sound of Daria's name Meara tensed. The queen had said she wouldn't pursue her but this woman was here to get her. Meara was certain.

The offer, the question was confusing to Meara.

"Where I belong?" Meara frowned. "I do not understand. I thought she said I was free. I thought I was allowed to leave." She pressed close to Gwent. Her eyes lifted to look under his arm and up at him. "I thought I was allowed to leave with you, to marry you." Her heart sank as she realized it had all been wrong and now she would be a slave again and likely punished for leaving.

Tears pricked her eyes. "Is she going to punish me?" All she could imagine was Anaka on the table. "If I go back maybe she won't punish you." She was still looking at Gwent.
 
"Where I belong? I do not understand. I thought she said I was free. I thought I was allowed to leave."

Lauren had been warned by Daria that the girl might misunderstand the intent of this mission. Before the Collector could explain, Meara spat out a number of panicked questions regarding her future, ending with "If I go back maybe she won't punish you."

"Forgive me, Mistress Meara," Lauren said, using the proper title to which the Queen had said the young beauty would be referred. She took a step forward but then hesitated as Gwent put himself more obviously between them. Lauren smiled to the man and offered a gesture he would understand as promising a peaceful interaction. She looked to Meara again and explained, "Queen Daria did not send me to find you for the purpose of returning you to her service as a slave."

She looked to Gwent again, then cautiously reached inside the saddlebags resting over the rump of her horse. She withdrew a letter, sealed with pressed wax. Lauren offered it to Gwent, so as to not seem a danger to the girl. Gwent studied it a moment; the seal upon it was unmistakably that of their Mistress.

"She does not read," Gwent said of Meara with a bit of hesitance. "May I read it to her?"

Gwent had learned over the past days that the simple village girl had never had the time nor the need, actually, to learn to read. During their quiet moments in between rides -- moments went they weren't fucking, anyway -- Gwent had used charcoal on tree bark or a stick in the sand to teach Meara the Art of Letters. She'd already memorized the alphabet and was quickly learning the sounds each made, even when in concert with other letters. But she had a long ways to go before she could read a letter from the Warrior Queen Daria, who -- despite her hard upbringing filled with abuse -- had been tutored through all of it and could both read and interpret even the most flowery of writings by the great poets, politicians, and generals alike.

After Lauren nodded her permission, Gwent broke the wax seal, dropped to his knees near Meara, and began reading, first to himself as a quick skim, then to the letter's recipient, word for word and at a slow, deliberate pace. It was eloquent, much as he'd expected, but he summed it up to Meara when he'd finished, less for her understanding and more to help it all sink into his own mind.

"She doesn't want you to return to her as a slave," he said softly. "She … she wants to at her side … she wants you to … Meara … Daria is offering you conducătorul alma cooperant al regatului'in."

He pointed to the elegantly written term in the middle of the page, asking even though he could see that she didn't understand it, "Do you know what that means, Meara. It means … how do I explain this...?"

Lauren cut in politely, "It means, Mistress Meara … that you will be the Warrior Queen's partnernot her slave … not even her servant. In addition to sharing the Queen's bed … you will share the throne. You will essentially … be a Queen."
 
Meara looked like she was about to faint. She looked at them, first the woman and then Gwent. "Me? Not her slave? Partner?"

Gwent tucked the letter away and stood, steadying Meara. "Can we go somewhere where she can sit down?"

Lauren nodded. The group made their way to a nearby inn. A table in a back corner was cleared for them. Gwent led Meara to sit down. She still looked shell shocked. A lot had happened and her mind was having trouble focusing. She buried her face against Gwent. She took a few deep breaths, enjoying his scent.

Once she felt a little steadier she turned to face Lauren. "I am no one. Why would the queen want me for...a partner?"

Meara was very confused. "Shouldn't she have a king not some village girl?"
 
"I am no one," Meara said after they'd ordered drinks and a plate of the tavern's fare. "Why would the queen want me for...a partner?"

"I cannot speak on that, Mistress Meara," Lauren responded in a rather emotionless tone. She could speak of how the only thing about which Daria had been able to think recently was the young village girl from Greendale. But it didn't seem appropriate to Lauren, so she only said, "I was told only to convey to you Queen Daria's extreme desire to have you back."

"Shouldn't she have a king not some village girl?"

"It's not unprecedented," Gwent offered.

"That is only legend," Lauren countered.

"But legends typically have a kernel of truth that began them," the man said. He looked to Meara and explained, "There is an ancient story of a Queen whose life was saved by a peasant girl. The Queen fell in love with this girl … she elevated her to nobility status … then wedded her--"

"Queen's don't wed other women," Lauren cut in, not wanting to get Meara's hopes up in case she had similar feelings for Daria as Daria had for her. "It's only a legend."

Gwent looked back to Meara, telling her with a sincere tone, "I know our Mistress … and I think I know how she feels for you. I believe that this is true. I trust that this is true. She wants you, Meara … she wants you in her tent … in her bed … and, now apparently, on her throne."

He diverted his eyes for a moment while he contemplated what he was about to say. He then looked into Meara's eyes and said, "I want to marry you … but … if this is true, which I believe it to be … can you pass up being a Queen?"
 
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