Queen of the Dead Fortress Ch. 02

Author's Note:

If you haven't read the first one, go and do so, now.

I mean it.

Really.

Done that?

Right.

This contains non-consenting mind control and sex. Quite a lot of it.

If you're not happy with that, move on.

If you are: read on.

#

Queen of the Dead Fortress 2: Lord and Master

#

Nathaniel stood in morning sunlight on the topmost tower of the fortress Graskan, his chest bare above a luxuriant, intricately embroidered silk sarong.

He stretched his arms to the sides, feeling his new warrior's muscles, that he had gifted to himself with his thoughts, pull and settle with a feeling of power that made him laugh out loud. How could anyone's muscles give true power compared to he, who was master of the fortress Graskan?

Nathaniel stretched out his mind, dipping into the fortress beneath him. He could sense every servant, old or new. Every corpse had been reanimated successfully, including those skeletons damaged by the desperate heroes Nathaniel had arrived with. The ancient servants spoke their ancient tongue, dead now but intelligible to him, who was their master. He could sense too the two mighty-thewed heroes E'layor and G'mor, and the warrior-tactician Borrum, who had treated him with such contempt on the mission to find the fortress but now served him with true and unbreakable loyalty.

And he could sense ... he had to close his eyes to luxuriate in how well could sense Avisha. The former thief-assassin, once Borrum's lover and now his personal bodyguard, was standing behind him. He turned around to gloat over her properly.

In place of the form-fitting black silk and suede clothes she had once worn from neck to wrists and ankles, with soft leather boots and gloves, she now wore no clothes at all.

Leather straps festooned her body to hold her multiple knives and short swords to her hips, thighs and across her belly and back, but there was not one scrap of fabric about her person. Even her boots had been replaced by leather soles held on by more leather straps. Nathaniel had made sure that straps crossed between, and accentuated, her firm and high breasts. It amused him to make her display herself even more than nudity already was.

Every strap was gleaming black, which contrasted nicely with Avisha's milky white skin and reminded Nathaniel entertainingly of her previous garb. There was a silver chain connecting rings through each nipple. Inserting the rings had not made her so much as flinch.

Nathaniel fucked her at least once a day. It amused him tremendously to have her as his submissive bedslave after the long days she had spent in open hostility, and the nights she had noisily fucked Borrum in their tent.

Her eyes were hard, lifeless, but not dead. Taking her will had taken some of her initiative as well, reducing her effectiveness as a thief and even as a protector, but her abilities to fight were only improved by removing all of her self-interest.

He reached up to cup her breast, enjoying the feel of the firm round flesh in his hand. She did not react.

He reached down. She was dry. With a thought from him, she was wet enough for him to push a finger inside her. She still did not react. He laughed. If he wanted a reaction, he merely had to think and she would be collapsing, helpless with lust. But this was as amusing as still having her chained in the dungeons.

With his finger still inside her, he sent his mind out again. The fortress Graskan still had no new servants who were loyal of their own volition, but all the reanimated warriors and servants were there because they knew the benefits of serving a mage, and the dancing girls had all willingly accepted their positions as bedslaves in return for physical perfection, eternal youth and the delights of elevated lusts.

Nathaniel was confident that, in time, more would come to realise that willingly serving a mage was preferable to losing their self and serving anyway.

He withdrew his finger from Avisha, then licked it idly. The magic constantly coursing through him gave him a near-permanent erection, almost as effectively as the silver slave ring that Elconcelj, before he had realised her ruse, had placed about his cock and balls. But now it was because he was Master.

He turned his attention to Elconcelj, who was kneeling submissively with back straight and shoulders back to accentuate her breasts.

He stepped forward, parting his sarong. She opened her mouth obediently, carmine lips stretching to accept a cock appropriate to his station. She took him easily into her throat. He usually had her use her hands to give him as much pleasure as she could, but it sometimes pleased him to simply use her as a receptacle. She no longer had any capacity to scheme against him, but demeaning her like this still gave him a gloating feeling of triumph.

He received less physical pleasure when using her like this, but it did mean that he could stand here and fuck her mouth for quite some time before ejaculating into her.

Later, he strolled through his domain, Avisha pacing silently behind him and Elconcelj walking docilely in front with a fine silver chain leading from his wrist to the filigreed silver collar about her neck. He had added his robe, but left it open across his muscled torso.

He, alone of everyone in the fortress, carried no weapon, not even that most useful of tools, a small knife. What need had he of weapons? He could destroy everyone with a thought, and there was nothing he needed tools for that he could not do with his mind.

Even the maids they passed, cleaning the floors on hands and knees, with perfect, available, nubile bodies and the ever-present hope of being noticed and taken as a personal bedslave by their master, carried sturdy knives at their hips. He had once taken one of these maids - he had no idea which one - against a tapestry, holding her knife against her throat and wondering if her fear would become stronger than her loyalty. It had not.

He descended far into the fortress, to the bedrock from which it grew. To the troll breeding pits. The unrecognisable, misshapen figures they had passed on their journey to the fortress had indeed been dormant trolls, most of which had since woken up. They could only move during daylight hours, when the sun did not interfere with the flow of magic, but they were getting progressively stronger and would soon be active at all hours. Those dormant in the fortress itself were already that strong.

The massive troll guards on the doors, each one easily dwarfing all three humans, bowed as low as their structure allowed.

"MY LORD." Their voices were formed by air blowing through flexible stone pipes. They were frequently indecipherable to human ears, and sometimes screamed, but were equally as often surprisingly beautiful.

Inside the pits, living rock grew slowly, tended by trolls who shaped it until it gained sentience and stepped free from the walls to join the growing ranks of Nathaniel's army. None of the buds were as yet recognisable, but Nathaniel knew they would be ready to harvest within five years. He was content to wait. No army could breach the walls of the fortress Graskan while he was resident, so he would wait until he could send his armies out to pillage and to bring back tribute and fresh slaves and servants.

In upper levels, the orcs were bred. Orc mothers screamed as they gave birth, the first generation already ready after three months. Each orc baby already showed that it would be stronger, meaner, and more intelligent than its parents. The dumb things that had attacked the human party heading towards the fortress had, when Nathaniel was enthroned, crawled terrified up to its walls, driven by ancestral memories they did not understand. They served Nathaniel now, through fear or compulsion.

The generation currently being born would know true loyalty.

In the fortress' massive courtyard, a couple of wagons, crewed by reanimated servants and escorted by reanimated warriors, had returned carrying food bought from (now terrified) farmers in the closest villages. Common folk where, as Nathaniel knew, better at keeping the important oral histories than learned folk where. Even if the histories were inaccurate, the essential truths were preserved. The most important essential truth here was: Fear the mage, and bend the knee. Nathaniel had not even bothered to give these servants knowledge of the current tongue. They had not needed it.

He returned to his throne room, strolling leisurely through the fortress Graskan, revelling in the hive of activity around him as the ravages of time were prepared and the army rebuilt.

He had barely sat upon his throne when a commotion in the main courtyard drew his immediate attention.

Borrum lead the party into the throne room, G'mor and E'layor following them with drawn blades.

Six warriors, dressed identically in garments similar to the old armour of the fortresses, escorted five women - all young, all beautiful, all wrapped demurely in travelling capes of good quality.

Nathaniel's eyebrows rose. There was no fear or anger here. There was ... excitement? He sat up straighter, casting his eyes over them to spot the leader. It was not, as he had assumed, one of the warriors, all of whom bent their knees and their heads to him.

The tallest of the women stepped forwards, her eyes bright, her hair gleaming black and her face set in an expression Nathaniel was startled to recognise as adoration.

"My Lord!"

Nathaniel was too surprised to respond.

"My Lord, my name is Talienal. We received word of your mission to the fortress Graskan, but barely dreamed to hope you would succeed!"

Nathaniel had to work hard to hide his disbelief. He waved a hand. "Continue."

Talienal bowed her head humbly. "My family served the fortress Graskan and its lords for three centuries before the mage wars. We were sent into safety so we could preserve memories and documents for the day when an heir to the lords of old would arise again."

She looked up, eyes shining. "We began our journey as soon as we knew that an heir had been enthroned!"

Nathaniel didn't try to stop himself from laughing out loud.

He let his eyes roam over the party. The warriors looked strong and capable, with armour and weapons in good condition but clearly not just for show. They all knelt with their heads bowed, in two rows flanking the women.

The women in turn were all young and slender, all wrapped in their travelling cloaks but their faces promising nubile delights. None of then had at any point looked worried, or uncertain. None of them had stared at Elconcelj, kneeling docilely at his side with her naked breasts and silver collar and nipple chain. None of them had glanced twice at Avisha, standing at his other side in her beweaponed nudity.

Talienal was staring at him with devotion. The other women had their heads lowered, but not so much that he could not see their shy but devoted smiles.

He leaned forwards in his throne. "How would you serve me, Talienal whose ancestors served mine?"

She stepped forwards, undoing the tie at the neck of her traveling cloak so it fell off her shoulders to pool on the floor behind her. "However you would wish me to, my lord."

Nathaniel's eyes bulged. Underneath the cloak, and above her fine suede boots, she was wearing only a diaphanous silk skirt hanging from a belt of delicate gold chain low on her hips, a filigreed gold collar about her neck, and a fine gold chain between her nipples. Each nipple was capped by a ruby that glittered like fire.

Her body was as perfect as Elconcelj, who had the benefit of Graskan's magic. Her skin was blushed with an olive tint and seemed to glow in the sunlight pouring through the throne room's high windows. Her waist was narrow, her hips wide. Her thighs were firm and fleshy, her arms slender but with a hint of strength. Her breasts, joined at the nipples by the fine gold chain, were bulbous but firm, jutting out from her chest without sag and swelling sideways enough to gently touch each other.

Nathaniel rise to his feet without thinking of it as his cock rose beneath his robes.

He forced his feet to stay where they were. He tore his eyes away from Talienal to look at the other women. As one, they undid their cloaks and let them fall. They were dressed as Talienal, with silver instead of gold and no gems over their nipples. Each one was as beautiful, but Talienal outshone them all.

Nathaniel had to laugh in pure delight. He walked down the steps from his throne to the floor, stopping in front of Talienal.

He reached out to grab one breast, revelling in the silky warmth and the weight in his hand. Talienal sighed happily.

"You are the first servants to come to the fortress Graskan reborn," he said, glancing around at the warriors and the women. "The first of many. You, Talienal, will sit with me at dinner this evening and serve me in my bed tonight."

She dropped her eyes, blushing. "I am unworthy, Lord."

#

The larders of the fortress Graskan were not empty. Caravans sent out into the world had returned moderately successfully, but they were mere additions. When the magic had reanimated servants, it had also restored the food piled in the fort's vast larders. The inhabitants of the forts had, for the first month, lived on food as old as the mage wars.

That evening, the cooks prepared the old and the new for a banquet as sumptuous as any the fort had experienced in the old days.

Nathaniel had not had peers, only servants. There had been no minor lords in a wizard's fortress, and even the most trusted servants, had still been servants. When the lords of the fortress Graskan gave banquets, they sat back and watched in amused tolerance as their lessers acted out a circus of hedonism.

Talienal's attendants danced, writhing sensuously in perfect synchrony, breasts swaying and bouncing as they contorted their bodies in erotic shapes, caressing themselves and acting out sexual acts and climaxes so realistically that their imaginary partners were almost visible.

The existing dancing girls were free to eagerly attend to, and take their pleasure from, the men - the reanimated servants and the new heroes - so that the cushion-strewn seating pits in the banquet hall became a writhing mass of orgiastic excess.

Through it all, Talienal attended devotedly to Nathaniel, feeding him choice morsels, holding his cup, stroking and caressing him coyly, keeping him aroused and indulgent.

"Your attendants," he said, gesturing at the girls as, in unison, they spread their thighs and their feet wide and mimed fucking themselves on a cock rising from the floor, "Send them to Borrum, G'mor and E'layor, later. Send two to Borrum. I'm feeling generous."

"Yes, my Lord," she breathed happily in his ear.

"And who is the leader of your guards? He can enjoy Avisha's body tonight."

"You are generous beyond compare, my Lord."

"Yes," he said, stretching his legs out, feeling his erect cock shifting beneath the silk of his robes as he gestured for her to give him another sip of wine. "I am."

The food was past but the festivities not slowing down when Nathaniel abruptly rose, cupping his hand around Talienal's taut buttocks. "Continue!" He declared, waving an arm. "I am taking Talienal to my bed."

Talienal purred into his ear. Behind his back, she made a series of complicated hand gestures. Her four attendants stopped their dancing to sink into full prostate bows towards Nathaniel. When he had left the banquet hall, they silently sought out Borrum, G'mor and E'layor, gently but firmly extracting them from their current attendants. One of Talienal's guards, Linnaeus by name, silently fell into step beside Avisha, who made no visible recognition of his presence but whose body language indicated she was treating him as at least as much a threat as a comrade.

They reached Nathaniel's opulent quarters. He sealed the doors with a gesture.

"You two have fun," he laughed, waving towards the smaller antechamber with its bed for his bodyguard.

When the doors to the main bedroom had closed, Avisha's martial responsibilities were finished and she turned on Linnaeus like a tigress, ripping at his clothes.

#

Talienal had not stopped caressing Nathaniel, over and through his robes, for the entirety of the walk to his chambers.

When the door closed behind them, she began coyly undoing the sash about his waist. He let her, while walking them slowly towards the bed.

She began caressing his naked chest, making awed sounds as she ran her hands over bulging muscles.

His robes were discarded on the ground, leaving his cock jutting arrogantly from his hips.

With a gasp of wonder, pleasure, and awe, she sank to her knees. He stared down at her in gloating delight as she reached up with both hands to hold him, opened her mouth wide, and reverently slid her lips over him.

He groaned as her warm, wet mouth engulfed him. She managed, with difficulty but determination, to work her mouth entirely over him. She rested for a moment, then pulled back slowly, sucking all the way.

As her head drew back he could see, past the thickness of his cock, her proudly thrusting breasts. His hands itched to seize and squeeze them, but he restrained himself. The feel of her mouth was too good.

Nathaniel could come as often as he liked, of course. He contemplated forcing his seed into her mouth and making her swallow, but no. She was so adorable and worshipful, he did not want to take her mind from her. He would leave her whole. She would remain the first to serve him willingly.

He stretched his arms above his head, luxuriating in the sensations as her attentions to his cock - and his balls, he was mildly surprised to notice, her fingers tickling and cupping him - made pressure pool in his groin. Those balls her fingers were delicately wrapped around began to feel heavy.

He groaned to encourage her. She bobbed a little more quickly, then pulled back and off him completely, looking up at him impishly as she licked her lips.

He was almost disappointed, but he felt like humouring her at least this once.

He took her shoulders, pulling her easily to her feet. The golden chain between her nipples caught on his cock and began pulling it upwards. He did not free it. She gasped and then groaned, biting her bottom lip, her eyes fluttering closed as the rings through her nipples were tugged sharply downwards before the chain slipped off his cock and her breasts bounced back up again.

Her eyes dropped modestly as her head rose near his.

He dropped one hand to the golden chain. Experimentally, he tugged it lightly downwards. She groaned again. He pulled it lightly towards him. She swayed a little, but the main effect was to stretch her nipples. He pulled further, so her breasts shifted and stretched towards him.

Her eyes rolled back behind her closed lids and she groaned as though having an orgasm, making his cock leap.

He suddenly felt an overwhelming desire to be inside her woman's cleft.

He roughly moved her towards the bed. Her eyes opened. For some reason, he stopped.

"Please, Master," she said humbly, almost looking up at him. "May I beg a boon of you?"

"Name it." Yes, he definitely felt like humouring her.

"May I ride you? I am eager to give you as much pleasure as I can, by the actions of my body."

He laughed out loud. Oh, she was magnificent!

He climbed backwards onto the bed, lying down and folding his hands behind his head. "Climb onto me, lovely Talienal."

She scrambled onto the bed, crawling up with her knees spread either side of his legs. She bent her head to kiss along the length of his cock again, then walked her knees up until her hips were above his. She lifted his cock up, then had to gracefully rock back onto her feet and lift herself to get high enough to place him at her entrance.