Chapter 6: The Scout’s Prize

Reinhard, the eighteen-year-old Führer of the nascent New Reich, stood at the edge of the Nah Yah canal in Kax’Yax, his ice-blue eyes fixed on the unfolding desecration with a predatory gleam. The midday sun filtered through the canopy of the Yaxkin jungle, casting dappled shadows over the sacred waters of the P’até Nah rite, where generations of refugees who had fled to the Amazon jungle had been baptized in the canal’s waters, emerging purified and beautified by the golden vita-sap that pulsed beneath the surface, healed and ready to join the matriarchal society. But today, under his command, those waters would be twisted into something far more fitting for his vision, a tool of racial purification, a forge for Aryan supremacy.

Mei’lin’zhu, his loyal shadow-witch and architect of corruption, stood waist-deep in the canal, her golden skin glistening with sweat and rivulets of water that traced obscene paths down her lithe, muscular form. She had stripped naked for the ceremony, her jet-black hair unbound and whipping about her shoulders like living serpents as she gyrated in a hypnotic trance. Her almond-shaped eyes, dark as wet obsidian, rolled back in her head, exposing the whites as she channeled the foul energies Reinhard had unleashed from the Schattenkammer. Her beetle-painted lips parted in ecstatic moans, her hands roaming her body, cupping her lush, round breasts, pinching the dark nipples until they hardened like dagger points, then sliding lower to spear her slick, hairless cunt with two fingers while her other hand clenched a fistful of crushed Blutstein, Bloodstone dust.

The air thrummed with her chant, a blasphemous fusion of the ancient Reichdeutsch of the old Blutreich and the liquid percussives of Yaxkiná, the Amazons’ sacred language. “Blut und vita-sap, vereinigt im Schatten!” she intoned, her voice a sultry growl that echoed off the ziggurat walls. Blood and life-sap, united in shadow. Her hips bucked rhythmically, fucking the air as if impaled on an invisible cock, her juices mingling with the water and turning it faintly cloudy. “T’ooch k’áax! Reinheit durch Opfer!” Strike the forest. Purity through sacrifice. The words twisted the jungle’s essence, the golden glow of the vita-sap beneath the surface flickering uncertainly, as if the Yaxkin itself recoiled from the intrusion.

Reinhard felt the sexual aura radiating from Mei’lin’s magic like a palpable heat, thickening the air with musk and arousal. It seeped into his veins. His monstrous cock, now fourteen inches of wrist-thick, ridged and barbed perfection, the dorsal vein writhing with jet-black runes that spelled SIEG REICH, throbbed with insistent need.

He had Niyol’tsa, the deposed Queen, on her knees before him, her once-proud mouth stretched wide around the root of his shaft. Her dark honey skin gleamed with a sheen of sweat, her massive melon-like breasts heaving as she struggled to take him deeper, her emerald-pierced navel twitching with each gag. Reinhard gripped her thick mane of black hair like reins, forcing her head down until her nose pressed against his pubic bone, her throat bulging obscenely around his girth. “Suck it, you jungle whore,” he snarled, his voice thick with contempt and lust. “Feel your Führer’s seed brewing while your precious waters turn to blood.”

Niyol’tsa’s green eyes watered, but she obeyed with the broken zeal of a convert, her tongue swirling desperately along the underside of his cock, tracing the retractable barbs that lay dormant for now. The aura of Mei’lin’s profane magic affected her as well, her nipples stiffened to painful points, her thighs slick with arousal as she humped the air futilely, her bound wrists preventing her from touching herself. Reinhard reveled in her degradation, the way her once-mighty body now served as little more than a cocksleeve, a set of holes for his pleasure.

To his left, Ayana Chak’be and Lúthien’che stood transfixed, their bodies betraying the spell’s influence. Ayana, the towering Yax’balam Supreme, the general in charge of the Amazon military, stood with her pale quartz skin and blonde braids now woven with black Reich ribbons bearing the symbol of the Hakenkruz, the hooked cross better known in the Common tongue as a swastika, instead of the traditional Amazonian hummingbird feathers. The blonde general shifted uncomfortably, her glacial blue eyes glazed with unwanted heat. Her massive thighs clenched, her jaguar-spotted leathers damp at the crotch as she fought the urge to drop to her knees and beg for Reinhard’s cock.

Lúthien’che, the once-willowy elf-priestess, had now been twisted into a hyper-sexualized Aryan ideal, with platinum blonde hair cascading to her knees, enormous black-veined tits straining against her orchid loincloth, and a wasp waist flaring into breed-swollen hips and ass. She whimpered softly, her emerald eyes locked on Mei’lin’s writhing form. The Blutkrone, the Blood Crown fused permanently to her skull with black veins spidering across her pale skin, pulsed in time with Mei’lin’s chant, amplifying her arousal until her nipples leaked corrupted vita-sap, staining her cloth dark.

But Reinhard’s gaze lingered most hungrily on Kael’veth and Brynhild’ra, his elite Blutwalküren honor guard, his Blood Valkyries, standing sentinel over the dozen kneeling captives on the canal’s bank. The captives—Untermenschen scum dragged from the Rivermark slaves: bronze-skinned refugees, orc-hybrids with tusked jaws, a few swarthy dwarven women with braided hair—were bound and trussed like livestock, their wrists lashed behind their backs with pulsing vita-sap vines, gags stuffed in their mouths to muffle their pleas. They knelt in a neat row, trembling as the two gorgeous blonde warriors sharpened their relic weapons with deliberate, almost sexual strokes.

Kael’veth, the pureblood Aryan Sturmführerin with her six-foot frame of corded muscle and sun-bleached hair cropped short for battle, wielded her gut-hook executioner sword, a six-foot monstrosity of serrated steel that whispered promises of disembowelment. She ran the whetstone along its serrated edge in long, languid pulls, her tongue darting out to wet her lips as the metal sang. Her ice-blue eyes, mirrors of Reinhard’s own, darkened with bloodlust, her breath coming in shallow pants that made her magically-enhanced breasts, swollen to pendulous perfection by the Blutthron’s influence, rise and fall hypnotically beneath her steel-boned corset. “Feel that edge, you filthy mongrels,” she murmured, her voice husky with arousal. She shifted her stance, her thighs rubbing together as the aura stoked the fire between her legs, her free hand absently tracing the sword’s hilt as if it were a lover’s cock.

Beside her, Brynhild’ra, equally Aryan with a long platinum mane swinging as she worked, caressed her multi-headed screaming iron-maiden flail with reverent care. The weapon’s heads, forged to resemble shrieking faces with spiked skulls, clanged softly as she honed each barb, her fingers lingering on the curves like she was stroking a throbbing shaft. Her wasp-waisted figure, hips flaring into an ass that begged to be slapped and fucked, trembled with growing excitement. “Soon, my children,” she cooed to the flail heads, her gray eyes gleaming with manic glee. “You’ll drink deep today. Rip their guts, tear their screams...” Her words trailed into a moan, her nipples tenting the thin fabric of her Totenkopf-emblazoned halter, the Death’s Head skulls on it shining in the sunlight, a trickle of wetness visible down her inner thigh as the sexual magic intertwined with her sadistic urges.

Reinhard thrust deeper into Niyol’tsa’s throat, feeling her convulse around him as the scene built his own arousal to a fever pitch. The captives whimpered, their eyes wide with terror, but that only fueled the depravity. Mei’lin had briefed him on the rite she was performing, and Reinhard imagined the captives’ impure blood strengthening his pureblood bitches, turning them into even more savage instruments of his will.

Mei’lin’s trance deepened, her gyrations growing wilder, her fingers plunging in and out of her cunt with wet, obscene slaps that echoed across the water. “Schwarze Sonne, ¡Ixchel’Kin!, erhebe dich im Blut!” Black Sun, Moon-Sun Pyramid, rise in blood! She arched her back, her breasts thrusting skyward as she ground her palm against her clit, her other hand scattering more Blutstein Blood-stone dust into the canal. The water began to churn, bubbles of foul crimson rising to the surface, the golden vita-sap twisting into veins of black. “Opfer für die Reinheit! T’aan k’íin, verfault im Schatten!” Sacrifice for purity! Death-song, rot in shadow!

The aura intensified, a wave of raw lust crashing over everyone assembled. Ayana bit her lip until it bled, her hands clenching into fists as she resisted the urge to finger herself. Lúthien’che collapsed to her knees, her enormous tits bouncing as she humped the ground, moaning “Mein Führer ... please...” in a voice thick with need. Even the captives stirred uneasily, their bodies betraying them with unwanted twitches of arousal amid their fear.

Kael’veth and Brynhild’ra’s bloodlust peaked, their honing of their cruel weapons becoming frantic, almost masturbatory. Kael’veth pressed the flat of her sword against her thigh, rubbing it slowly as if fucking the steel, her hips rolling in time with Mei’lin’s chant. “I can smell their fear,” she growled, her voice dripping with erotic menace. “It makes me wet for the kill.”

Brynhild’ra laughed, a throaty sound that ended in a gasp, as she twirled her flail, the screaming heads whistling through the air. “Watch them squirm, sister. Their blood will paint us red, make us cum for the Reich.”

Reinhard fucked Niyol’tsa’s face harder, the barbs on his cock flaring just enough to scrape her throat without tearing, drawing choked screams that vibrated around his shaft. “That’s it, you broken cunt,” he hissed at the deposed Queen. “Swallow the future while your world burns.”

Mei’lin reached the ceremony’s climax, her body seizing in ecstatic rigidity. “Jetzt! Blut für den Thron! T’ooch! Opfer!” Now! Blood for the throne! Strike! Sacrifice! She signaled to the blonde Blutwalküren with a sharp cry, her fingers buried deep as she came, her cunt squirting arcs of clear fluid into the water.

Kael’veth and Brynhild’ra exploded into action, their faces twisted in orgasmic fury. Kael’veth swung first, her gut-hook sword arcing down to disembowel the nearest captive, a tusked orc-woman, in one savage stroke. Guts spilled in a steaming pile, blood gushing into the specially designed gutters carved along the bank, channeling it straight into the canal. The woman screamed through her gag, thrashing as Kael’veth laughed, her body shuddering in climax, juices soaking her leathers. “Yes! Feel the Reich’s blade, you filth!”

Brynhild’ra followed, her flail smashing into a bronze-skinned refugee’s skull with a wet crunch, the screaming heads biting deep and ripping flesh free in sprays of gore. She came instantly, her hips bucking as she swung again, pulverizing a dwarven woman’s chest, ribs cracking like kindling. “More! Scream for me!” Blood flowed freely now, the gutters running red, the canal bubbling as the impure essence mingled with the vita-sap, turning the water a deep, arterial crimson.

The slaughter was merciless, Kael’veth hooking a captive’s intestines and yanking them free while grinding the sword hilt against her thigh, Brynhild’ra bashing knees and elbows before delivering killing blows, both women moaning in shared ecstasy as each death triggered fresh waves of pleasure for the two gorgeous, bloodthirsty warrior-bitches. The captives’ muffled cries blended with the Blutwaküren’s orgasmic shouts, the air thick with the coppery tang of blood and the musk of arousal.

As the last body slumped, decapitated by Kael’veth, the blood spurting from its neck draining into the now-foul waters, Mei’lin’s orgasm peaked, triggering a powerful convulsion that rippled through the aura, slamming into the other bitches present. Ayana roared, collapsing as she came untouched, her body arching in helpless spasms. Lúthien’che squirted onto the bank, her tits heaving as she wailed in submission. Niyol’tsa gagged violently around Reinhard’s cock, her throat milking him as her own climax hit. The two Blutwaküren fingered themselves furiously, climaxing powerfully on their own thrusting fingers.

Reinhard flooded Niyol’tsa’s stomach with thick black cum, the Runenwurzel des Blutes swelling his balls to orange-size before pumping rope after rope of corrupted seed down her gullet. “Take it all, you worthless whore,” he groaned, holding her head flush as she swallowed desperately, her belly distending slightly from the volume.

The ceremony complete, the waters settled into a blood-red color, pulsing with new, malevolent power. Mei’lin waded out of the churning fluid, her body still trembling from aftershocks, and knelt before Reinhard, her eyes shining with fanatic devotion. “Mein Führer,” she purred, pressing her cum-slick fingers to his boot. “It is done. The P’até Nah now purifies and strengthens only those of pure blood, Aryan or nearly so, turning them into savage, bloodthirsty warriors for the New Reich. Those whose blood is impure will be boiled alive in the water, their souls and essences absorbed to fuel the pure.”

Reinhard pulled his cock free from Niyol’tsa’s mouth with a wet pop, letting the last spurts paint her face as she gasped for air. He smirked down at Mei’lin, already plotting the next wave of conquests. “Good. Let the weak feed the strong, as it should be. The Reich grows.”

From the throng of Amazons watching the desecration with a mix of awe and lingering fear, one stepped forward, her stride confident despite the blood-red churn of the Nah Yah canal behind her. She was a warrior-scout, her chestnut hair pulled into a severe high ponytail that accentuated the sharp angles of her face. Her eyes were dark hazel, flecked with glints of gold that caught the dappled sunlight, set in fair skin marked by the rigors of jungle patrols. A faint scar traced a jagged path from her left collarbone down to her navel, a pale line against the taut muscles of her abdomen, disappearing beneath her war leathers, tight jaguar-hide breeches and a harness that crossed her modest breasts, leaving her midriff bare.