The Great Khan Ch. 02

Sarantuya spat blood from her mouth and dove on Khorijin, driving her knee into her side as she attempted to turn the other girl over and throttle her. But the slippery yak fat that covered them both gave the desperate Khorijin a chance to squirm to the side and she rammed her elbow back into Sarantuya's crotch with a jarring thud! Sarantuya grunted and toppled over, her hands between her legs. Khorijin was on her like a tiger, striking the defenceless girl across the face and breasts before slithering behind her and clamping her muscular thighs around Sarantuya's neck, applying leverage and beginning to squeeze.

Sarantuya struggled wildly, striking backward, trying to get her nails somewhere into Khorijin's flesh, but no matter where she managed to dig in, Khorijin ignored it, bracing on her hands and twisting and squeezing with her thighs. Blood, sweat and melted yak grease glistened on her as she clenched her teeth and tried to strangle her sister-wife.

Choking gasps were the only noises Sarantuya could make, her face starting to turn purple as she fought desperately to escape. She began flailing wildly as numbness crept into her limbs and her tongue started feeling like it was swelling in her mouth. Her nails dug into her opponent's shins, the only place she could still find purchase, but it was too little, too late. Khorijin was breathing excitedly, her eyes flashing as she felt Sarantuya fading.

"Do not kill her, sister," Galina said almost casually from the corner. "It would not do for our husband to have to explain to the Borjigin how their bride-price to him was murdered."

The cold interruption of what the Chinese girl was saying shook Khorijin out of her murderous reverie and she slowly relaxed her thighs, allowing Sarantuya to slump out from between them, seemingly alive but unconcious. She twitched as she lay in the center of the ger, while Khorijin slowly got to her feet, the terrible fatigue of their duel threatening to overwhelm her.

"No... not in front of Galina... never in front of her... not when I have triumphed."

She staggered away from Sarantuya, her head spinning. Several punches the other girl had landed earlier in the fight really hurt. She leaned against a chest, sucking in painful lungfuls of air, waiting for colour to return to her vision. Galina continued writing as if nothing had happened.

"You would do well..." Khorijin panted as she continued to lean on the chest. "Not to try and dictate my actions to me, foreigner... lest I take offense and then your life..."

"We both know that you will not do that, Khorijin," Galina said evenly. "Forgetting for a moment that our husband, my brother, would kill you instantly if you were to harm me, you also know that I am most adept with poisons and could have made you die quietly in your sleep at any point if I thought you meant me ill."

Khorijin felt an icy surge of anger in her stomach at the Chinese girl's words. She turned and walked slowly toward Galina before staring down at her.

"You think my brother values you over me?" she hissed through gritted teeth.

Galina put down her brush, stood in one slow, fluid and deliberate motion to face Khorijin, looking up into the Mongol woman's flashing eyes. She slowly undid the silk belt of her robe and let the garment fall away, revealing her lovely pale body, a distinct contrast to Khorijin's swarthy frame, glistening with oil and blood.

"Convenience and the goodwill of the tribes chose her for him," Galina said softly, tilting her head to indicate Sarantuya, who was still lying unconscious in the middle of the ger. "The stars may have chosen you, but Boldbator alone chose me. No one else did. I do not underestimate my value. I dare not."

Khorijin glowered down at Galina for several seconds before her features softened and she smiled, sighing and shaking her head. She pulled Galina to her and hugged her and while the shorter girl embraced her bloodied sister-wife. She kissed tenderly at the oozing scratches on Khorijin's breasts, soothing the burning itch of them with her soft lips.

"Come," Galina said softly, taking Khorijin's hand and pulling her toward Sarantuya. "Let us get her up on the bed and then celebrate your victory by making love on top of her."

Khorijin smirked and looked down at her clawed breasts and tasted the tang of blood on her lips, which made her scowl. Another wave of nausea and fatigue passed over her as they walked.

"She nearly had you there for a moment." Galina mentioned lightly as they walked. "She is getting better. She has permission from the khan to practice wrestling with Bukidai, as long as her clothes stay in place."

"Damn Boldbator," Khorijin muttered, scowling. "He's allowing her to train so she can compete with me?"

"What do you expect, for him to just let you beat up on his first wife?" Galina reasoned as they reached Sarantuya's supine form. Galina squatted and took the unconscious girl by the ankles while the stockier Khorijin hooked her arms under Sarantuya's shoulders.

"Besides," Galina grunted as they hefted their sister-wife and began moving her to the elevated kang. "Since when is a Mongol afraid of a challenge?"

"Just shut up, Mai," Khorijin groused, using Galina's Chinese name for emphasis about her displeasure. "Bad enough that this harlot nearly clawed my tits off, now I need to endure your devil tongue?"

"You've never objected to my devil tongue before." Galina said, smiling slyly at her companion. They shuffled up onto the platform and placed Sarantuya squarely in the middle of the bed, arms and legs spread to display her body shamelessly. Both girls then knelt on either side of her and began caressing her body, playing with it and giggling, talking about what they should do to her while she was knocked out.

Galina fed her breast into Sarantuya's mouth, poking the nipple inside while Khorijin moved down and began teasing her pussylips, which happened to be bruised and swollen from the vicous elbow strike she'd given her sister-wife there.

Galina then slid around and nestled her bare womanhood onto Sarantuya's face, facing down her body while Khorijin straddled her hips, looking at the Chinese girl. They both leaned in and began kissing and fondling each other's breasts while squirming down onto her. Khorijin had pressed her pussy into the first wife's and was grinding her hips rhythmically, netherlnips mingling and clits brushing through their black thatches while Galina pumped gently against Sarantuya's lips. She never contested the other two physically, knowing she could not possibly win, but this had not stopped either of them from forcing themselves upon her when they were in a mood.

It made these moments of revenge all the sweeter, no matter which of them lay beneath her.

Galina moaned into Khorijin's mouth as she felt the Mongol girl squeeze her breasts and pinch her nipples. Her own hands artfully pleasured Khorijin, caressing her scratched and swollen breasts, soothing them and calming the fiery girl. Galina did not want to feel her anger tonight, hoping instead to redirect it or at least divert it to the girl below that they both now violated.

Galina shuddered as a moan emerged from beneath her wet pussy- Sarantuya seemed to be waking from the brutal slumber she'd been crushed into by Khorijin's relentless ferocity. She felt Sarantuya's hand move and come to rest on her thighs while she tried to breathe. Galina thoughtfully lifted herself slightly to allow the prostrate girl room to get her bearings and to breathe.

"You nearly had me that one time, whore," Khorijin grunted as she continued to fuck Sarantuya with her pussy and no regard for her well-being. "But in the end, you were no match for me."

Sarantuya merely murmured, understandably not capable of intelligent discourse yet. Galina felt the tingle of her mouth's movements while she tried to acclimate and kissed Khorijin again to distract her and allow their victim to perhaps gain some of her senses back. Their tongues tangled as they squirmed down onto Sarantuya, still fondling one another.

Eventually, though, the vengeful Khorijin's hands made their way down to the first wife's breasts and began squeezing them, causing a shudder and moan of discomfort from below, a moan that sent yet more tingles of pleasure through Galina's pussy.

"Shouldn't you be telling me to be merciful and kind, Chinese?" Khorijin asked in a panting, taunting tone, disparaging Galina's civilized ways. She squeezed Sarantuya's nipples, causing her to keen and whimper at the unwelcome abuse. Of the three of them, she was the least inclined to pain mated with pleasure. Khorijin, the warrior, considered sexual pain a badge of honour. Galina, once the Chinese courtesan Mai, had been trained from an early age to accept such things as part of her office. Sarantuya of Clan Borjigin, however, had to endure the violence of her sister-wives and also the ferocious strength of her husband, the khan. It was not easy on her.

"She lost the fight, a fight she'd agreed to," Galina replied, her mouth still pressed to Khorijin's. "Since when has mercy been a tenet of your duels? I show you none when she and I fuck you after you pass out. I once relieved myself on your face to express my contempt for your weakness that night."

Khorijin's temper flared at the memory of her disgrace that night, not so many weeks ago. It was the first time Sarantuya had cleanly beaten her and she'd lost consciousness after several frenzied fists to her face. When she woke up, she was still covered in yak grease and her blood, but also found that both Sarantuya and Galina had pissed on her. She would not forget.

Boldbator did nothing to stop them from fighting, but his rules were clear- they were not to kill one another, they were not to hurt one another so badly that they could not procreate and they were not to try and fight Galina, on pain of a slow death.

They could beat one another into a pulp as much as they wanted, as long as they could breed. And they tried to do just that, regularly. Khorijin had to admit it excited her that Sarantuya was getting better at fighting, since the challenge thrilled her, just as the heat of battle did. But the sexual element to their duels, fighting naked and violating one another if they won, brought a whole new ecstasy to them, a chance to release their jealousy and fury on one another in a ritualized and (relatively) safe manner.

Sarantuya was trying to get up but the two girls kept her pinned and she was not strong enough to contest them. They ground down onto her, with Khorijin squeezing and almost mauling her breasts mercilessly. Sarantuya was whimpering and crying, muffled by Galina's pussy. The Chinese girl moaned in pleasure above her, feeling herself getting wetter and wetter. Khorijin was pumping hard against her sister-wife now, her pussy throbbing with desire, a dizzying mixture of acute pain and boiling delight.

Galina took Khorijin's cheeks in her hands and kissed her greedily, her tongue snaking into the Mongol woman's mouth. Khorijin reciprocated, clumsily. She was the least skilled lover of the three of them easily, although this did nothing to dampen her ardour or keep from trying anything she thought might please her husband and brother. Galina would occasonally teach Khorijin things, small sexual tricks that allowed her to compete more effectively with Sarantuya but posed no threat to Galina's status.

The two girls moaned into one another's mouths now while they ground onto Sarantuya's abused body. She squirmed helplessly, trying to escape, the fucking she was receiving giving her no pleasure, nor was that its purpose. She had once shoved several fingers into Khorijin's ass when she had bested her, caring not for her cries of pain and ignoring her gasping words of promised revenge. When it had happened it was terrible, but the two girls seemed to have silently agreed to not torture one another so much recently.

Khorijin and Galina panted as they kissed, feeling the raw pleasure bubbling up inside themselves, driving them toward that peak of bliss. Khorijin bit Galina's lip and tugged on it, causing the Chinese girl to keen, but her fingers squeezed Khorijin's breasts, manipulating them just right...

They cried out into one another's mouths as they came, grinding down on Sarantuya in a frenzy of lust. She shook and thrashed in desperation but to no avail as Galina bathed her face in cum while Khorijin battered her pussy relentlessly, a swollen, sticky and bloody mess. The writhing mass of female flesh churned on the kang, covering the piled furs and silken sheets in their mingled essence.

Finally, Khorijin pulled Galina off to the side, lying on top of her and kissing her feverishly as they basked in the glow of their lovemaking. Coughing and sputtering, Sarantuya shuddered and pulled herself off of the bed, hitting the ground and crawling away in anguish to nurse her wounds. Khorijin and Galina purred and slid their tongues around each other's lips as their wet pussies kissed and settled into one another, fitting perfectly.

Galina arched her neck as she felt her lover's hands wrap around it and gently squeeze. Her fingers dug into Khorijin's ass cheeks, drawing her closer.

"So, my delicate Chinese blossom," Khorijin whispered as she looked down into Galina's face, continuing to pretend to choke her. "What will you do on the day I may finally choke the life from you?"

Galina's eyes fluttered open and they were glazed with a content lust.

"I can think of no way I would rather die," she purred. "And no one I would rather take with me beyond the veil of night..."

Khorijin leaned down and kissed her again.

***

The family of the Tengger clan were drawn up in their groups, watching as the khan moved among them, accompanied by Kula, Khorijin and Gerel, who served as his bahatur. Boldbator's wives had burnished his armour that morning and it gleamed in the midday sun. It was a sign of wealth and strength to have metal armour amongst the people of the step- the poorest warriors relied on furs and stout hides and a layer of silk to protect them, while more affluent men could afford leather boiled in yak oils.

Boldbator and his family members, however, had cuirasses crafted of banded steel, protected with lacquer. Flexible but tough leather protected their joints and other vulnerable areas and even their ponies wore a form of barding that allowed them to charge into the thick of battle with some protection. The khan was afforded this luxury as long as he constantly proved himself and showed no fear in the face of the enemy or death. As long as he did what others could or dared not, he would be given the equipment that made such valour possible.

He wore a light del across his shoulders and open at the front to reveal his armour. His black eyes glinted as he assessed his tribe, seeing the ferocious independence deep inside them. Many had been absorbed into the Tengger fold over the years, some clans related simply by marriage and yet considering him their khan.

The influential Borjigin clan, that gave him his wife Sarantuya; the Eljigen family, known for their agressive fleetness in battle; the Belgunud people, lords of the great green plains of Arhangay; the Chonos clan, who were only brought into submission after Boldbator's grandfather had boiled their seventy princes to death; the Khongirad, people of his mother, Turkina, loyal followers of Arslan and now his acclaimed son. The Thokura'ut, with their plentiful horses and copper mines, were wealthy vassals, the khan of the family eager to offer his eldest daughter in marriage to Boldbator to secure their place. Other smaller families were assembled here as well.

Aside from the Tengger, only three of these clans could legitimately claim any form of yazgurtan, or nobility among the tribes- the Borjigin, the Chonos and the Khongirad. But even these families had once been common in the distant past, and if he needed to bestow yazgur upon the others to maintain their loyalty in these difficult times ahead, he would do so. A little jealousy and competition between one's vassals was never a bad thing in any event, he mused, smiling to himself.

Here they were, drawn up in their hundreds, representing family and rank within those families. In front of each family were the warriors who had fought with him against the Sukh in that savage battle days earlier, kneeling and waiting patiently to be aknowledged. They were dozens and while all his warriors would be rewarded, these exceptional few deserved special attention.

There would be no florid or grand speeches, Mongols had few uses for such things except during a kurultai, where they were often couched in hyperbole and hidden meaning. He called the warriors' names and personally handed them a special part of the plunder from the tomb of Targetai. He had already taken for himself and his family that which he considered essential to their place as leaders of this small confederation and that left plenty to give out for meritorious service in battle.

Bolts of precious silk, shining weapons, gold, jewels and exotic perfumes for wives- each man was grateful for the individual thought given to his need and promised more to come when he once again rendered great service. Men claimed their slaves, calling out anyone who disputed their declaration. Two men indeed had laid claim to the same Sukh girl and rather than risk an ugly brawl, Boldbator declared it a formal challenge. The warrior of the senior family (by reckoning of the history of lineages) was allowed to choose the method of combat and he chose wrestling.

A circle was cleared and the warriors of the two clans involved formed a ring around the men. Boldbator and his family watched from nearby and Turkina would declare when the match began. One warrior was lithe and wiry, his muscles whipcord-fast. The other man was burly and strong- if he managed to get the smaller man in his grip, the match would surely go to him.

"Since the prize is a mere slave girl that neither man has expressed any interest in marrying, this dispute shall be determined with a single fall," Turkina declared, her voice carrying its usual calm authority. "Let none dispute the outcome, the tribes must look outward to our future."

Both men were stripped down to boots and stout leather pants and covered in yak fat. Their skin glistened in the midday sun as they circled one another warily. The only sound to be heard was windsong and the distant whinny of horses in the corral.

The larger man, a warrior named Sal'juq, lunged in and attempted to carry his opponent, Tolon, to the ground. Tolon twisted to the side, however, and wrapped his arms around Sal'juq's waist, attempting to throw him. There were chuckles from the ring of warriors as the bigger man squatted lower and braced himself, leaving Tolon struggling in vain, his feel scrabbling against the earth. Sal'juq reached for his foe but Tolon snaked away again, circling with the wariness of a mongoose confronting a deadly snake.

They slapped at one another's hands, testing each other without getting too close. Tolon was faster and his only advantage would be unexpected leverage if Sal'juq was his equal in skill. The sun continued to move overhead as they looked for an opening and soon the men forming the ring began to call for one of them to finally make a move.

Tolon darted in again, twisting around Sal'juq and attempting to pin his arm behind him, unbalance him and throw him, but the bigger man was ready and caught his foe. He lifted him overhead in a show of brute strength and made to dash him against the ground, but Tolon slipped away quickly, staggering in a panicked circle, his hands and knees almost touching the ground. He was panting as Sal'juq charged in, ready to knock him onto his back, but he dodged and planted his shin in front of Sal'juq's leg. As Sal'juq began to stumble, Tolon shoved roughly on his back, slamming him onto his face on the ground. A cry of victory went up from those assembled, the contest ended and a the winner clear, although it had not been graceful.