Anaria must watch her fellow captive’s ‘interrogation.’
FALLEN KINGDOM - PART 6
General Carpathiel surveyed the long columns of legionnaires and the pack train winding its way through the mountain pass at Skelne.
He was no longer a young man, to put it lightly. His days of campaigning should have been long behind him. Yet the balding general, his head rimmed with fine white hair, now brooded while watching his Imperium soldiers as they worked their way southward – in more or less perfect formation – moving like a single, glittering creature. Their spearpoints gleamed in rows unending. Meanwhile, were a person to simply listen to the birds or glance toward the carefree, sunshine-laden sky above, they could be forgiven for thinking that all was right in the world.
It wasn’t.
A revolt of gladiators and Xokothi slaves in the south had begun to spread like a cancer – a cancer which would have to be cut out or cleansed, and soon – or other parts of Prythia might erupt into disorder and violence. More than anything, General Carpathiel considered himself a victim of poor timing. With General Agalzius’s legions off pacifying nomadic barbarian raiders in the north, and General Krebnor’s army in the midst of conquering one of Prythia’s smaller and vulnerable neighbors to the west, even the resources of the mighty Prythian Empire were stretched thin at the moment. So, it had become General Carpathiel’s task to keep the rebellion in check, at least until the Imperium government at Kannai, the Prythian capital, could muster a proper legionary force.
General Carpathiel’s men numbered just shy of 6,000. Too many were old men, re-drafted into service, or boys convinced of their own manhood before their time. A proper Imperium legion consisted of 10,000 infantry and 2,000 cavalry. Carapthiel grimaced as he watched his under-manned army navigate the narrow mountain pass, the very pass which connected the bottom or ‘boot’ of Prythia with the rest of the country.
“Do you think the rebels will put up much of a fight, General?” His lieutenant centurion, Vaevek, surveyed the troops beside him with an impetuous, bright-eyed enthusiasm that Carpathiel was too old and wise to share.
“Do not write off our foe yet, my friend, especially since we have yet to meet a single one of them,” General Carpathiel remarked dryly. The old general was a bony man of slightly above average height and hard-bitten gray eyes. He didn’t look like much – perhaps an ornery schoolteacher past his prime – but Carpathiel had led armies that had killed Prythian enemies by the droves, by the thousands even, and he had his soldiers’ respect.
“Forgive me, General. I…I confess that I am over-eager to see my first battle.”
Carpathiel grinned. “Forgiven, soldier. You aren’t the first to do so, nor will you be the last.”
Vaevek gestured at the ponderous progress of the pack train which trundled along between the frontmost and rearmost ranks of the army.
“Why not leave the supplies with a light force to protect it from bandits and simply press onward with our main force, Sir? As the fall of Bheketha shows, the rebels are getting bolder, starting to take towns with sizeable populations. Time is critical. Shouldn’t we speed up our advance?”
But the old general stubbornly shook his head.
“One thing you’ll learn, my young friend; war is often a game of ‘Hurry up and wait.’”
When the younger man frowned, clearly not quite understanding, Carpathiel sighed with impatience. “If I press on and leave the pack train and supplies behind us, we leave ourselves vulnerable. If the rebels have a leader with half a brain, with scouts well placed, they could cut off our supplies and take advantage of our over-extended position. Then, instead of forcing a pitched battle with the enemy, we might find ourselves encircled in the hinterland.” Carpathiel spat, then stared at the distant horizon. “I intend to lead an orderly advance, soldier. We will systematically find and eliminate the rebel filth. Is that clear?”
There was disappointment in Vaevek’s chastened expression, but the lieutenant centurion nodded.
“Yes, Sir. Understood, Sir.”
Carpathiel chewed on the inside of his cheek. A sense of unease clawed at him from the inside out. He couldn’t quite put a finger on the root of the anxiety, but it lay there like curdled milk in his stomach. He had a bad feeling about this campaign. This was not like the others. Before, he had always waged war on undisciplined barbarian outsiders. These rebel gladiators, low-caste or not, were of Prythian blood, and one thing Carpathiel knew with certainty – they were no fools. This Gorlann, especially, was a man of renown. Among the gladiators he had a reputation as a fighter both wily and brutal.
Carpathiel had faced many foes. None, he had to admit, were quite like the ones who lay before him now…
***~~***
MEANWHILE, NEAR BHEKETHA…
“Come. Follow me, bitch.”
Gorlann’s harsh voice lashed at Anaria like a whip. Still naked, her hands bound in front of her, the young woman obeyed.
It had been several hours since Anaria and Shinatri had been taken up into the forested and rugged terrain above Bheketha. At ‘Eagle’s Hill,’ a ridge that overlooked the valley just north of town, they were led into a camp filled with hard-eyed gladiators and brutal-looking Xokothi. The main difference between the two groups, besides the darker skin tone of the Xokothi, was the manner of dress for each. Whereas the gladiators wore armor and were well-equipped, the Xokothi often wore little, sometimes even walking bare-chested in only leggings, and their weapons were often crude and makeshift in nature. Nonetheless, each side seemed to have forged an unwilling, uneasy alliance. To the Imperium, the gladiators had been playthings to entertain the masses, a sub-caste of humans forced to kill one another for sport. To those same Imperium highborn elite, the Xokothi slaves were mere number-crunching administrative servants, destined to toil away out of sight, serving as the nameless, un-thanked backbone of Imperium legitimacy. Each group, in their own way, had been exploited by the Imperium. If nothing else, then, they felt a solidarity in their shared sense of grievance.
“Where are we going?” Anaria dared to question as Gorlann led her deeper into the trees behind the rebel camp. She had seen him talking to one of the other gladiators a short while ago, but the two had been out of earshot. She had been too busy comforting Shinatri and craning her neck to look elsewhere in the camp for any sign of her poor mother, Phaeka.
“Quiet, slut. You will observe and do what I tell you, and only if I think you can do something useful. That is all you need to know,” Gorlann said gruffly.
‘Fine,’ Anaria thought. ‘I hope you trip and chip a tooth.’ It was an old Prythian wives’ curse. She snapped her mouth shut, glaring daggers at his back all the while. After about another forty to fifty strides, they came to a small clearing near the crest of the hilltop. There Anaria saw four more gladiators and three Xokothi slaves. The men seemed to be expecting Gorlann. One of the gladiators nodded, then gestured toward a cluster of tall cedar trees. Glancing in the direction the man indicated, Anaria couldn’t help but gape.
Bound between three sets of trees were three helpless Imperium women. All were naked. All had their wrists bound high and far apart – ropes connecting their wrists to the tree trunks on either side of them. Their legs were free, but it was cold comfort; they could only stand there with aching legs and feet. Anaria had no idea how long they had been standing there, but she guessed it had been some time. All three of the women had passed out, their figures limp from exhaustion, legs slightly buckled.
After conferring with his fellow rebels, Gorlann walked back over to her.
“You see those three pussies? They come from the family of a senator. The middle one is the senator’s younger sister. The other two are the senator’s aunts. He was seen on the city walls before Bheketha fell, but his body was not among the dead. We know that he is in hiding and that he can’t be far. Having him in our custody would provide a useful bargaining chip when the Imperium forces arrive. Now, we strongly suspect that one of these cunts may know where he is. They were caught in the senator’s villa and dragged up here earlier today for questioning. None have talked…YET. You and I are going to help change that.”
Now Anaria’s blood felt the sub-zero shiver that comes from pure dread. He couldn’t be serious…could he?
“You… you want me to help you interrogate them?” Anaria could hardly force the words out of her mouth. It was too awful to contemplate. No, this couldn’t be happening. Anaria wouldn’t help this man torture three of her fellow captives. She wouldn’t!
Gorlann’s face had turned into one massive scowl. He could see the impending resistance in her. His hand flew out, slapping her across the face. She fell to her knees.
“Do you want to join them instead? I could have your naked ass strung up between two sturdy trees and left for the animals. Is that what you wish?”
Anaria shook her head, then dared to look up at him. “No, Master. Please…I’ll… I’ll do what you want.” Gorlann helped the girl roughly to her feet. Surprising her, he then captured her lips for a bruising kiss. His hands cupped her buttocks, grinding her cunt against his armored crotch with savage need. Her bare pussy could feel the cold, hard surface of his armor. She found herself imagining his hard cock underneath. Then he pulled away.
“Behave yourself now and you’ll get more treatment like that, and fewer slaps. Understood?”
Anaria nodded like a docile slave while he stroked the undersides of her breasts. “Yes, Master.”
“For now, you will stand back and watch. When my men and I are finished interrogating these Imperium cunts, you will bring them food and water. You will comfort them. You will try to earn their trust and find out what you can. Then, you will report back to me. Understood?”
Anaria slowly nodded, feeling queasy. At least she wasn’t directly helping torment the poor women, but she felt bad that she was being asked to betray their trust. She knew that if it meant sparing herself, she would do it, too, and that was what made her look down now in shame.
Gorlann now approached the missing senator’s younger sister. The woman’s name was Kaylanna. The two aunts were Juura and Maephina. All three woman were naked, their wrists bearing the red-encircled marks from the cruelly tight bindings of the ropes. Two of the women had the marks of a whip upon their backs, and those were the aunts. Kaylanna was for now still unmarked and relatively pristine. Gorlann approached the unconscious girl, admiring her beautiful curves. She did not have the child-bearing hips or the larger breasts of her two aunts, but her body remained mouth-watering all the same. The girl’s slender figure had a quiet grace to it which her long, straight flowing black hair and almond-shaped eyes only accentuated.
He tapped the girl’s left ass cheek.
“Wake up, cunt. I have questions for you.” But the woman didn’t stir. He motioned to one of the Xokothi. He brought over a bucket of water. Gorlann dumped it over Kaylanna’s head. The girl sputtered and jerked, her eyes flying open. Her pretty tits gleamed with wetness. Her slick body gleamed all over, which only enhanced her beauty.
“Please, let us go!” Kaylanna begged. “I need to get back to my son.” The young mother’s eyes shone in desperation. Gorlann ignored her plea and proceeded to lift up her legs, wrapping them around his buttocks as he positioned her pussy just above his cock. With a satisfied grunt he impaled her on his cock. He felt her sink onto him, her pussy snugly enclosing every inch of his throbbing length. He began to bounce her on his shaft, relishing the sight of her supple cones jiggling slightly to the rhythm of her impalements. Her tormented face, showing resistance to the pleasure his cock tried to give her, stared at him with bleak desperation.
“Please, my son NEEDS me,” the woman implored.
Gorlann had his hands underneath the woman’s hips, lifting her up only to bring her crashing down once more onto his cock. Gods, he could fuck this woman all night. He leaned down now, licking the woman’s nipples, then sucking on each of them, then playfully nipping at them, before sucking on them again with renewed vigor.
“Uhhhh!!!! Please stop! I need my son!”
He withdrew his mouth from the woman’s tit. “What you need, Imperium slut, is to answer my questions.”
“Please,” she whimpered again, “let me go.”
The grizzled gladiator kept thrusting into his helpless female captive. Her legs were wrapped around his muscular buttocks as he violated her, fucking her at a steady pace. He was being far gentler than his instincts usually allowed. His one hand slid to the smooth curve of her ass cheeks, caressing her.
“Now why would I do that? Besides, you already have the key to your freedom dangling right in front of you. Tell us where your brother hides like a coward. Tell us that, and you can go back to your son. You have my word.”
The young mother had seen no more than 26 or 27 cycles of the seasons, but her face had the look of a younger woman as she choked back a sob.
“Please… I already told your men, I don’t know. Please believe me!”
Gorlann focused on the snug squeeze of the woman’s cunt. He was close now. His one hand caressed her back while his other hand gave her buttocks a sharp slap that echoed in the woods. He upped the tempo of his fucks, their bodies slamming together as he felt the need for release reach its white-hot apex. He could see Anaria watching over the woman’s shoulder, witnessing this rape with horror-filled eyes. Gorlann was disappointed in his female apprentice. She didn’t seem to have the grit that he thought he had sensed in the spark behind her eyes back in Bheketha; no, she was just another whiny Imperium brat, nothing more. Perhaps it had been a mistake to take her on, instead of killing her back at her family’s villa. Those thoughts briefly swirled through the gladiator’s mind before they were swallowed up by a fog of pleasure. The muscular Prythian gripped Kaylanna’s butt cheeks firmly, bouncing her in a frenzy on his cock until he groaned. His cock burst, fountaining huge ropes of warm jism deep into the young mother’s womb. At last, his final drop of seed emptied deep in his captive’s pussy, he stood still again. He waited while his cock softened inside her and wondered if he had just graced her with another child.
Her tearful eyes continued to implore him.
“Please, I’ve told you the truth. I don’t know where he is. If I knew, I would tell you!”
With a sigh of satisfaction, Gorlann drew his cock out of his pitiful victim. His cock, glistening with her fluids and his own seed-remnants, now hung sated in the dim early evening moonlight.
“I wish I could believe you, whore, but I can’t take any chances. I have to be sure.” He turned to one of the Xokothi slaves and called out.
“Go get the whip. This young slut needs more convincing. A few well-placed lashes will get her talking, I think. Get the whip. Let’s make this cunt SING.”
“NO! Please! Have mercy!” Kaylanna wailed as Gorlann turned away and strode back over to Anaria. Even as Gorlann’s seed continued to ooze out of the woman’s snatch, she continued to cry out with plaintive calls for mercy, all of which went equally ignored. While the unnamed slave went to retrieve his whip, Gorlann gave his apprentice a pointed look.
“Well, bitch? Did you find my interrogation educational?” Anaria glanced toward the two aunts, Juura and Maephina. Two other gladiators had followed Gorlann’s lead. They now had both of the other captive women impaled on their cocks, raping them at a steady pace, their hands cupping the pale, alluring ass cheeks of their victims.
Anaria stammered, once more having trouble comprehending the level of brutality that these gladiators were willing to inflict.
“I did…yes, Master.”
“And what did you learn?”
At first, Anaria thought that Gorlann’s question was simply rhetorical, designed to simply emphasize his power and merciless strength over her and the other Imperium captives. It dawned on her, though, that he was serious – that he expected a serious answer. She took a deep breath and tried to give him what he demanded.
“I learned that…” What did he want her to say? Thoughts whirled and clashed inside her head. Was there even a right answer, or was he simply playing games with her, as cruelly as he knew how?
“Cat got your tongue, bitch? Worthless whore.” He snapped his fingers. Two Xokothi slaves and the two remaining gladiators sauntered over. Gorlann addressed the men.
“This cunt is more brainless than I feared. Give it to this bitch hard. Fuck her in all her holes. Drill her ass. Make it rough and nasty, and if you see fit to let her live, bring her back to camp when you’re finished with her.” With a tone of disgust Gorlann turned his back on Anaria and walked away.
Meanwhile, Anaria abruptly found a hand cupping her pussy.
“I’ll have my cock in here soon, bitch.” Another hand cupped and roughly squeezed her right breast before pinching her nipple. She groaned as she felt a third man’s cock graze the curve of her ass.
“Ever been ass-fucked, girl?” Oh no. Gods help her.
“Please, be gentle, I can please all of you. Please let me try to please you!” she squealed as one man pushed her to her knees and bent her over, a rigid cock looming right before her face. Pre-cum was already leaking from the tip. Meanwhile, she felt a man behind her spitting into her anal crevice, pushing the saliva around her rim with his finger. Instinctively her anal muscles clenched tightly shut, trying to keep the invader out.
“Loosen your ass, Imperium bitch. Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”
While the man began to position the bulbous tip of his shaft at her tightest hole, Anaria squirmed with all the resistance she could muster, but it was no use. Simultaneously, the cock in front of her slipped into her mouth and the first beginnings of the cock behind her began to plow into her helpless bottom. As the slave’s dark shaft split her ass cheeks, Anaria’s cock-muffled scream tore through the clearing. The Xokothi raping her from behind thrust against her bottom, grunting with profound pleasure each time he joined their bodies as one. Soon the spit-roasted girl knew nothing but cock and the distant cries of her fellow captives.