Warlord : Book One - Year One - Cover

Warlord : Book One - Year One

Copyright© 2020 by Darian Wolfe

Chapter 12

Fantasy Sex Story: Chapter 12 - Mark Daniel Baird, Army reject, assembly line worker, and part time muscle is shot in the face at point blank range. Instead of being dead, He wakes up on another world. Discover this world as he does. WARNING- the story of this universe starts slow, and will have many squick points before we are finished. SOME of the squicks will be rape, gay, humiliation, prejudice. The squicks are necessary as the story being developed is deep and complex. If you work past them you will be entertained.

Caution: This Fantasy Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Ma/ft   ft/ft   Ma/Ma   Slavery   Lesbian   Fiction   Restart   DomSub   Humiliation   Rough   Sadistic   Snuff   Spanking   Torture   Anal Sex   Caution   Prostitution   Violence  

The Year of Sambol 129 Sev 20 - Holding 8, Lord Hedend’s Citadel

Lord Milduk Hedend ran his finger down the totals and laughed. The Troian’s had increased slave sales by four percent in the last season. The assassination tomorrow will allow them to expand into Lord Lartis’s holding. He set the report in front of him and smiled. Within two olna’s, he would take almost half of Lartis’s trade. Hedend belly laughed. As the Royal Envoy, he would assure Lartis the whole time that his majesty would stem the flood of the Troians.

Even better, Muzo, the Troian’s leader, had no idea that he was his tool. The Shard had already stated they would help him overthrow Sambol for a cut, of course. With his activities in three other Holdings, he would sit on Kluir’s throne within seven olna’s. Lord Hedend felt good.

A knock at the door disturbed him. He turned the report face down. “Enter!”

Borla, his manservant, came in and stood by the door. “Lord, the prisoner has arrived.”

“Have Jurrian bring it to me in a short mark.”

Borla said, “Yes, Lord,” then left.

While he was waiting, Lord Hedend locked away the report in a hidden strong box. He grabbed a glass of watered wine. His family was old and wealthy. He could afford glass. Sitting back at his desk, he sipped his wine and reviewed what he knew.

Unlike his peers, Hedend insisted on meticulous records on everything in his holding. It was expensive as he had to hire literate people. People who could read, write, and do math were rare. He had opened a few small schools to help meet his needs. Only small orphan children could attend. They trained their entire childhood to be literate and loyal. Any child who could not cope died. Hedend had no intention of releasing a literate into the population. Literate people get ideas. Illiterates were hard enough to rule.

He had noticed a trend in the records. For the last seven olna’s there had been a slight increase in deaths that occurred during the first week of Sev. The death rates were normal each of those years before and after that week. It took three Olna’s for the trend to show itself and another two to confirm it.

He had ordered the investigation of any death that looked the least bit unusual. Hedend himself interrogated those involved. It was one of the more pleasant parts of his duties. This time, Lord Hedend hoped that he would learn something. If there was some type of conspiracy occurring he needed to know.

A city guard saw the woman in an alley strangling a wealthy older man. She ran. It had taken the city guards a better part of the evening to track her down.

The Citadel when notified of her capture had sent a team of his personal guard to retrieve her. His men were able to locate where she had been staying. A search of the place found a lock box.

Now, he planned to get to the bottom of it. Hedend took a small bag out of the drawer of his desk and set it on the desktop.

It wasn’t long before another knock sounded on the door.

“Enter.”

Borla walked in followed by an armoured man and a bound and hooded woman.

“Jurrian and the prisoner, Lord.”

Hedend nodded and said, “Thank you, Borla. You may leave.” He waited until Borla closed the door behind him. “What do you have Jurrian?”

Jurrian nodded toward the woman. “The city guard of Galsson caught it. It’s victim was Naut, an established mercantile owner.” He placed a rectangular wooden lock box on Hedend’s desk. “We found this in the room it was renting. She rented it six days before the murder. The gate guards remembered it coming in, as the animal is beautiful for it’s age.”

Hedend raised an eyebrow.

“About thirty Olna, My lord.”

Hedend nodded.

Jurrian continued, “No one traveled with it. By your order, a messenger was sent. It was bound and under eye guard until we arrived.”

“Did anyone harm it?” Hedend asked.

Jurrian shook his head. “The men used it at night, but no one did more than slap it.”

“Good. Is there anything else?”

“Other than it has not spoken a single word since we took possession of it, no.”

Hedend nodded his head and thought a moment. “Is it a rent woman?”

The prisoner stood straight and squared her shoulders. Hostility rolled off of her posture.

Lord Hedend gestured and Jurrian back handed her stomach. She gasped and fell to the floor. Jurrian jerked her to her feet.

“When was it last watered?”

“It has had two cups of broth since we got it three days ago. We watered it twice a day. The last was three marks ago.”

Hedend handed the small bag to Jurrian, “It is no longer your concern. This is for you and your men. I know they will get theirs. Keep the search going. Leave.”

Jurrian gave a small bow. “Thank you, Lord.” He left.

Hedend sat without movement or sound for almost a full small mark. the animal moved it’s head side to side. Hedend could tell it was straining to hear. It jumped when it heard his chair move.

Hedend went over and examined it’s bindings. Each hand and foot was bound separately then together. The hands behind it’s back and the feet with a rope long enough to allow it to shuffle, but not walk. Satisfied, he went back to his desk.

He opened the box with a small tool set and stifled a gasp. Inside it were seven dignities, one Season, and an assortment of Oxes and Barrens. How in Deagolt’s name could she have amassed over eight years of wages? She’s not a Royal, he thought.

There was also a small kit of roots. Searching it, he found Tava root and other poisons with their antidotes. Lord Hedend knew poisons. He had used them many times.

Shutting, the box he picked it up. Grabbing the prisoner’s arm he led it through a door on the side wall. At the end of the hallway, He unlocked a heavy metal door then led it down some stairs. He unlocked another door then led it to his personal interrogation room.

The first thing Hedend had done when he became Lord of Holding 8 was have this storage room converted for his use. His mother died in this room. She was upset that he had poisoned Father and threatened to tell that idiot Sambol. It was a shame, he was fond of her. Since then, Hedend was the only person who both entered and left the room alive.

He sat the box on a table then led the animal between two posts. It tried to struggle, but for a man of Hedend’s size it’s actions were futile. He chained the prisoner spread eagle between the posts. A few movements of his knife cut it’s clothes away.

Kicking them aside, he walked around the animal and examined it. The skin was a pleasing dark tawny color. Largish breasts and a firm stomach both without stretch marks indicated it had never bore young. With it’s narrow waist and broad hips He could see why the men sexed it.

While not a virgin, Hedend found his pleasure in better ways.

Lord Hedend went to both of the side walls and opened a grate on each. A nice draft moved across the room. He then went to a small well and filled two buckets. Taking them to the prisoner, he doused it front and back with the cold well water. A small shiver went through him as it shouted when the first bucket full hit it.

Tonight was going to be fun. He took the buckets back then checked the brazier he had lit in preparation of the prisoner’s arrival. Hedend placed a handled rod on it’s grate. After it was hot, but not glowing, he took it. He walked to the prisoner with it held behind his back.

He admired it’s ass a moment then spoke, “What is your name?” When it didn’t speak he touched the rod to the woman’s side for a moment. It sizzled as it evaporated the water and burned her. She screamed then cried.

“The rest of your life will be nothing but pain. The faster you tell me what I want to know the faster it will end. What is your name?”

“Imgeh BASTARD!” She screamed.

Hedend’s eyebrows jumped at it’s words. He held the rod to the base of her spine for a moment. He enjoyed her scream and writhing as he thought. Imgeh? Where have I heard that before? Ancient Biokian? It hasn’t been spoken in almost 500 olna?

The prisoner cried uncontrollably. he gave her a moment then “Your name.” he moved the rod close to her arm pit so she could feel the heat.

“Ulana. My name is Ulana.” she screamed.

Hedend moved the rod away. “Ulana, why have you been killing the people of my cities?” When the prisoner didn’t answer instantly, he struck the meat above the outside of her right knee with the rod.

She screamed again and shook her head. “I ... can’t.” she wailed.

Hedend went to the table and sat the rod down. He picked up a whip. Using a practiced eye, he judged the distance and took two steps toward her. A strong swing and a snap of his wrist crashed the tip of it onto her vagina.

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