Lord of Chains Ch. 01

She started to drool, eyes rolling back in her skull as she was used like an object. To these people, and the minotaur, she was. Even to Shire she was just an object, something to buy and resell. For a moment he wondered what sort of life she had before this moment, how many years she fought and trained, who she loved and hated. He wanted to know her name, know more about her.

The woman squealed like a stuck pig as she came, legs shaking and breasts jumping with each great thrust.

It slowly dragged her off. She slid off its cock and fell onto the ground. The minotaur's prick glistened in the light, twitching and still rock hard. Seeing her chance to run for a gate, the woman rolled onto her belly, teetered onto weak legs, and stumbled away. She was strong, no doubt about it.

The minotaur chased her back down, grabbing her head and shoving it into the sand before she got barely a dozen strides. Now pinned underneath it's hulking frame, there was nowhere to go. She screamed and groaned again as it fit itself back inside, her legs forced to spread once more. Shire didn't get as good of a view, but he imagined this was much more uncomfortable for her as she was fucked into the ground. She grit her teeth and held onto its wrists as it pounded away.

Each pump caused her legs to jump and she started to sweat and moan. They could be heard over the crowd, and she shook and jabbered like an idiot again as she came for a second time. Was bull dick really that good? It started drooling, and globs of spit fell on her hair and smeared down her face, sullying her appearance. Didn't take long to turn from a panicked woman to a messy cumdump.

With a bone numbing howl, the minotaur grabbed her head and stood up, lifting her up too. Back to the good view. Not much left to the imagination now, as everyone could see the perfect outline of its dick pushing up against her ribs, her tiny tits jumping, her tongue lolling out of her head and eyes twitching.

Shire wondered how much longer this was going to go on and reached back in his coat for the Whitewash when the minotaur suddenly stopped. Uh oh. Couldn't be a good sign. The woman seemed too fucked to give a damn, just trying to breath as best as you could with a bullcock halfway up your chest. Everyone in the crowd could see the dick throb and twitch inside of her, her stretched body rippling. Shire watched the cum roll up its cock through her and winced.

Her eyes shot open as the first rope of cum shot out. There wasn't much left in her to scream, but she shook instead and placed her hands over the bulge as it dumped its load. Her womb grew as it was filled with minotaur cum, belly stretching. Once she looked eight months pregnant, the cum just started to back up and splatter onto the sand. It was thick and goopy, much more than human cum.

The minotaur must have been cumming for at least a solid minute, and only once the woman was a bloated, nut filled shell of her former self did it pull itself out and drop her. Cum splattered out of her gaping cunt, and there was so much the sand couldn't absorb it all. A sticky pool formed. Her hair stuck to the side of her head, and her tongue flopped out. Her legs twitched.

Then the soldiers rushed in. As they wrestled with the minotaur, the woman was rolled onto a stretcher. Shire watched them struggle to lift her up now that she had all that extra weight, but they awkwardly waddled for the exit. He turned and shouldered his way back out of the crowd, making sure not to lose sight of them and trying to ignore his new, painful reaction. At least he didn't need those Elven tonics to still get hard.

"Hail!" He stumbled from the mud, certainly not because he was drunk. The soldiers carrying the abused woman were visibly straining to hold her.

"H-hail," grunted one.

"She for sale?"

"W-what?"

"Sale. I want to buy her." Shire said.

"N-not my c-call." The soldier wheezed.

"Well, whose is it?"

"Captain's."

"Lead the way boys!" Shire grinned and swept his arm toward the direction he thought they were going. They looked at him funny, then went the opposite direction. Huh, so that's how it felt. He thought of offering his aid in carrying her but decided against it because of his bad knees. They slowly made their way toward another big tent. People looked at the woman with wide eyes. She left a trail of jizz behind her, all of it still leaking out her pussy. Shire peeked a glance at it. He could have stuck his fist in her and it would have been a loose fit.

Shire followed them in. On one side were the able-bodied prisoners. They looked horrified, jaws slack, faces white, eyes focused on nothing at all. War. Hell of a thing. Being killed in battle was at least noble. Being breeding stock, or a fucktoy for minotaurs wasn't. On the other side of the tent were the used. Women lied on beds, their legs lifted in contraptions. Buckets were placed underneath them to capture the excess cum leaking out of them. None of them looked to be in good shape, even less so than the dark-haired woman Shire was planning on buying.

There were, of course, no men on the survivor's side. Shire tried not to think about that.

The tent stank of mud and sex, which was an interesting combination. At the far end, sitting at a rickety desk and surrounded by sheepish men, was undoubtably the captain. Shire could see the bars on the shoulder of his vest. Putting forth his most confident swagger, Shire walked up to them. The captain glanced up from a piece of paper and frowned. He was a handsome lad, a bit on the younger side and without that hard look most veterans had. Officers were always prettier because they usually just sat around with their thumbs up their asses.

"Can I help you?" He asked.

"Absolutely. Name's Shire Billows, and I'm inquiring about one of your prisoners of war."

"Does this look like a bloody market to you?" The captain snapped.

"In my line of work, it absolutely does," Shire flung his arms out to be a bit theatric. Officers liked that sort of shit. He grabbed his documents from his coat and handed it to the man. "This should explain things."

"Slaver for...Oh."

"Oh?" Shire asked. He couldn't tell if that was a good or a bad 'oh.'

"Didn't realize the Lord of Chains was interested in stuff this far north or hired old men." The captain grunted.

"Well, he is a man with many interests."

"I'd sell to you, but unfortunately the Duke has demanded that the minotaurs be sated. A few died in battle, and we need more. Plus, they're quite...Needy."

"I don't want to buy your whole stock," Shire jabbed his thumb over at the woman, who had been placed on a bed and had her legs shamefully lifted up. His cock twitched again. "Just her."

"Just -" The captain looked where Shire was pointed and scowled. "Her."

"That a problem?" Shire asked. That was quite a menacing 'her.' The captain looked at his retinue of brownosers and waved them away. A few protested, but he fixed them with a glare before they shuffled off. Shire smiled at a few of them as they stalked off.

"Her name is Valery Venter." The captain whispered, leaning forward. Shire's bluster melted away. Venter was one of the nastiest names up here. Rumors had it that she could route a whole army, that she was spat out of the Great Dark by demons and gods too terrified of her, that she was a cannibal who ate people in front of they families while they were still alive. Shire had worked with her mercenaries before but had never actually seen her.

And Shire just watched her get turned into a minotaur dumping ground.

"How the hell did you beat Venter?" Shire asked.

"Not inclined to tell an old man about military secrets," Fair enough. "The Bloody Duke wants her to be a minotaur bitch until she dies but...You ever heard of the Siege of Yawn?"

"Five years ago, yeah."

"I had family there, an auntie and uncle. Venter was the one who ordered the tunnels to be dug under the walls that broke the siege. One of those tunnels collapsed their house," The captain's knuckles turned white as he clenched his fists. "Wasn't even quick. I was told they died from shock and suffocation of all the rubble."

"Sorry for the loss," mumbled Shire, though he wasn't really. Civilian casualties happened all the time in sieges. Couldn't be sad over every one of them.

"As much as I want that bitch to pump minotaurs out of her cunt for the rest of her life, I've heard plenty about your employer, and what a cold-hearted monster za Krotka is. I can't think of a worse fate for the proud, noble Venter. I'll give her to you for three hundred."

Considering Derry had given him three thousand coin as an investment, that seemed like a real deal to Shire. "Won't the Duke wonder where she's gone?"

"She's got plenty of enemies. He won't be surprised. Besides," The captain glanced as another woman was carried in, panting like a bitch and dribbling cum out of her swollen belly. "He'll have plenty of other breeding stock. Three hundred."

"Deal." Shire said, and they shook. He fished out the checking book that was good for the banks, scribbling down the requisite information. The captain grinned up at him.

"I'll bring her to the stables for you. Meet there in thirty." He stood and rushed off before Shire could agree. Not procuring his product after giving the money seemed like a bad idea, but the man had a grudge and Shire had his word. Though, a man's word was worth as much as his piss, as Shire's pop used to say. Maybe he shouldn't drink so much Whitewash before doing these things.

Shire made his way back to the stables, looking nervously around and half-expecting a pike in the back for trying to buy Venter. Venter. What a name. Half a year ago he would have made up an excuse to get out of a battle with her, and now here he was, buying the harpy for three hundred and taking her south for a man he had never seen. Life could be tumultuous.

As thirty minutes came and went, Shire worried he'd just lost his employers coin. The captain stepped out from between some tents, a cloaked figure leaning against him and dragging its feet.

"I told you bastard for the last time not to drink while on duty! Get the fuck out of my camp!" He roared. A couple soldiers shuffled away, and the captain thrust the figure at Shire. His knee clicked when he caught the body.

"It's Venter. She's drugged and a bit cleaner, so she won't be leaking and won't stab you in the back for at least a day," The captain hissed in his ear. "Make sure she suffers for what she did."

"An evil woman like her? Gladly." Shire said and nodded as the captain slunk away between the tents. Shire didn't think Venter was evil. She profited off war, just like the rest of them did, just like the captain did. Shire had no grudge against her, and there were dozens of worse people than her out there, living better lives because the justice of gods was a fucking joke.

He peeked at her face under her hood. She was much prettier than the stories let on, and even looked serene barring a scar snaking across her jaw. Valery Venter. What a crazy situation this was turning into. He lightly slapped her cheeks a few times, just to make sure she was drugged and wouldn't stab him in the back.

Content that she wasn't waking up, he tossed her on his horse then dragged his carcass back into the saddle. His ass hurt. His thighs were still chafed. There was a town a couple hours south he reserved a room at before coming to the camp. When he set out this morning, hoping to gather a dozen slaves before taking them to a ship to Bayreach, he never imagined he'd be walking back with one, and having it be the most dangerous woman to ever lead a mercenary army.

Valery Venter and minotaurs. What an unbelievable pairing.

Shire tipped his head back and downed the rest of his Whitewash.