A Daemon-Horn Blade Ch. 21

When he found their not insubstantial camp, his fretting became panic and his mood turned to one of fury, and with a face quite scarlet in rage, he dashed back to find Rowan, accounted by all to be the commander of these small vermin, determined to see them well and gone from the combined army, err a single one of his soldiers step one more foot towards battle."

"Didn't I make myself completely and absolutely clear? It's them or me! Except for Everdun, I have enemies on every side of me, and in every direction the claws of the nihtgenga strike in the night against me! My lands are heavily overrun with them and there can be no peace or truce with them! Ever has there been war between goblins and men, and many are the foul unspeakable outrages that have been done by them in stealth, under the cover of darkness! No, this cannot stand! Either the goblins go, or I and my army shall!"

"It would be most unfortunate indeed to lose the services of your skilled men, many of which I'm sure are eager for reasons of their own to avenge themselves against the Boar-Men, for they are much a peril for your most western towns and villages, even under kinder circumstances. I do not doubt that in the past you have had significant troubles with some tribes of the púcel, but it does not always have to be this way. Although we have not yet a permanent accord of peace or alliance with the tribes that now follow us, they have their own honorable reasons for their past distrust of men. We are the Fex'oegh, or the oath-breakers, to them... and for old but just reasons that still have merit to this day. I have sworn my own personal oath to them, to honor and accept them as valued allies, and I cannot and will not break that trust. In truth, while I would enjoy having your quite superior forces allied with me in battle, I could not forswear my oaths to them! That was done once before, for reasons that seemed valid, at a time of great danger much like now... but a wrong done once should not be repeated! Go my Lord, and my friend, and take your men back home with you, excepting those that would stay and fight with us against our ancient memory as but kindly volunteers, for I shall abjure the púcel not! Once we were oath-breakers to them, but not again... not on this day!"

Rowan had not seen that both the Foole and the púca shaman Jim'ose had been standing behind him for much of his discussion with the Duke. Some say that goblins cannot shed tears, but Rowan saw the truth on that day. In fact it was hard to say who eyes were the most damp, the Lore-Master's or the wise old goblin leader.

"The past can never be forgotten, nor should it... but sometimes what has been done in the past can and should be forgiven." Jim'ose said to Rowan, but with his eyes toward the prejudicial Duke. "The race of the púcel shall march with you wherever you will lead us, and although we can never replace a great army of men, our hearts shall be lighter for the honor that you have shown us, and we shall as comrades and sworn allies fight this last great fight together with you. You have brought many tribes of my race freedom, and our honor is yours to lead. No greater respect can we offer. When the land returns to peace, there shall be a new covenant between us, and the very first of my messengers shall bring our words of peace to the lands of Oswein, that the tribes there might embrace the new harmony and offer their hands to this Duke in cooperation and mutual respect, for now that the Fex'oegh have rediscovered their honor, it is not right or proper for our two races to ever fight against the other again! Even the past sins of the Cisalo can now be cleaned, for we would desire know more of our creator, and never again be separated from his divine love, should he accept us to his heart again."

The Duke, now embarrassed beyond all words, quickly turned away and returned to his camp. Whether to stay or order his cavalry to ride home and his infantry to embark upon their ships, the lad didn't know... and frankly didn't much care. He was getting rather tired of pandering to so many noble egos and was already eager for the long march north to begin.

"Lad," the Foole said, as he hugged his young friend in friendship and near overwhelming joy, "do not let yourself feel sorry with disappointment, for you have done a feat of honor that hasn't been seen in long over an age. Here and now you righted an ancient wrong, and made a choice that another weaker man could not, a very long time ago. The world is already a better place for what you have done, and with the help of The Seven and the Weavers, we will finish what we began! Let me go now make the grand tour of the army camps and see how fast we can get these unwieldy hosts of men organized and ready to march, or sail, if that bastard Enos will let us load Broadmore's army onto his ships!"

The Foole must have been especially convincing, because not an hour latter he reported back to Rowan, Gwenda and Boyle that nearly all of the foot soldiers, and much of the cavalry would be loaded tomorrow morning onto the two naval fleets of Oswein and Drakland. Not an hour later the regretful Duke Orland had come asking for Rowan's forgiveness; he and his army would indeed remain and he even asked if his brigades could fight along side of the goblins, that the two races could better learn trust each other, fighting together. He even took the small hand of Jim'ose, the shaman leader, to make a more formal private apology for his rude and inconsiderate words.

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Oddtus smiled as he amused the Dukes and noblemen later that evening at their farewell feast. Everything was now going quite perfectly according to his plan. Already Duke Enos was summoning his fleet, the second largest navy of the Duchies, to be ready to dock for their loads of men and materiel as soon as the already docked Oswein fleet had completed embarking as many soldiers and supplies as necessary.

It was briefly agreed that the light cavalry of the combined army would need to travel swiftly overland, and would make their start for the Tellismere city of Applewood the next day, where they hoped to meet up with the fleet. The heavy cavalry would be the last to be loaded onboard, and it was hoped that most, if not all of the horses and men could be squeezed on and below decks. At least supplies were not likely to be a problem. In Penryn, the Duke of Broadmore had stored enough grain to last the city for a siege lasting years, and a goodly amount was already being now loaded onto his ships. The Drakland army had also come well supplied as well, and some of their ships were already heavily laden with supplies. The men from all corners of the Southern Duchies were well-armed and high spirited, relieved that they would be fighting the Eorfleode hordes, and not their fellow landsmen.

Such cooperation would have been unthinkable just months ago, but then again no one had dreamed of a Daemon-Horn blade, or brave lad willing to wield it... or that the Lady Ayleth would have someday found and restored her own honor and soul, and gird them both for war for a cause much greater than herself!

Better still, a very old mistake had now been corrected, better late than never, for the God of Mirth and Wisdom would indeed wish to reclaim his chosen people, upon his return... which if the final menace of the Eorfleode could be dealt with, perhaps once and for all... at least in this part of the world, the omens would be quite favorable for both Gods and men indeed!

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Onboard the Drakland naval flagship 'Terror', the Lady Ayleth, contented at last the entire armada had now taken itself to sea and that she was but a week or so now from home, decided that in the interest of good and proper housekeeping on her newly polished conscience, that one last rather long overdue apology was now quite in order. With a good deal of trepidation, she knocked on Boyle's cabin at the start of the second afternoon watch, about three o'clock or so. The grin he gave her, happy as always to talk with her, didn't at all settle her wobbly stomach... and in fact, it just her even more nervous and reluctant. Still, with a weak smile she entered his cabin and bid him to shut the door, something he rarely did, to keep decorum and propriety with the noblewoman. Today, she didn't care in the slightest.

"Alright, there's really no way to pussyfoot around the matter... I've been a roaring bitch for most of this trip, and it's a bleeding miracle that you kept on mostly friendly terms with me for the entire journey! You have always shown me courtesy, politeness and even honor... and often when I didn't deserve it! For what I did to you and Rowan at the ruins of Silana, sending you both back to Dead Tree Island, and to near disaster, I should be whipped to within an inch of my life... and by a much better man than the late Viscount Gart d'Bournyss. From you, I would gladly suffer even a great punishment indeed, for he could only make me feel pain, but you shall teach me true regret."

With a fast unbuttoning of her dress, she allowed it to fall to the cabin floor, revealing herself to be nude before him. Then, she placed the long thick whipping cane that she had brought with her and placed it between her teeth, as she kneeled before Boyle, offering herself to him to punish however he wished.

Startled by this demonstration, the lad just laughed and declined to accept the cane.

"Lady Ayleth... while I much appreciate the offer of most properly chastising you, I shall have to decline it! Your skin is but just barely healed from the very hard abuse it received in Corælyn and I would not add another single scar to that most distressed back and ass of yours. In fact, every part of your body that I see still shows traces of ill-use, and I would not add a single bruise or mark to you. While I once promised your already well-beaten bottom a spanking quite some time ago, like Rowan and Gwenda, I shall instead offer you my unconditional forgiveness. Indeed, if the sounds of amusement I heard on-board ship heading to Penryn last week were any indication, you have been well forgiven by them indeed!"

"Be not jealous of Rowan and Gwenda, for they have eyes and hearts only for each other. While I might have once wanted his attentions in that way, it was to Gwenda that I made my affections and I was not entered by him for his pleasure. Again, I would offer myself for your discipline, or to perhaps even serve you as I served her?" On her knees, she crawled to Boyle's feet in submission, but again he declined to take the cane from her mouth.

"Well, if you desperately must feel the need to be punished, let me sit in that chair over there and you may present your ass for a gentle hand spanking, since you insist on feeling my absolution for your many sins upon your body. It still is a rather nice ass, even with the fading bruises and scars, not to mention the hot iron brand mark... and if the some spanks from my hand will give you happiness, then in this small matter I can oblige you!"

Settling comfortably into the chair, Boyle seated himself and allowed Ayleth to settle herself face down and lying upon his lap, with her bare ass exposed on his lap. Idly, his fingers began to trace around the cruel marking made by the branding iron on her left cheek.

"I suppose this really hurt when the hot iron was applied." He suggested.

"Frankly, I barely remember it at all. I was already more than half delirious from the earlier whippings and I didn't really feel the pain of the branding until I woke up the next morning. I remember being shown the red-hot iron as he taunted me that I was going to be forever marked as his property, to be used, sold or disposed of however it best pleased him, but I may have blacked out right when the iron was applied. Already much of that terrible night seems as but a very bad dream to me, but I think I do remember the smell of my own burning flesh. What exactly does my mark look like? I haven't been brave enough to look into a mirror to see exactly how that monster has marked me for life."

"Actually, as brands on soft pretty female flesh go, it's not a bad one and I would be content to keep it. The brand mark itself is about two or three inches long and muchly resembles a stylized "B" in rather fancy script. I believe it is the d'Bournyss family seal, rather identical to his signet ring, which I now wear. Since the late Viscount had also prepared a document of sale for you, which is also in my possession, I think I can very safely say that in full accordance with Aldarian law, I now own your ass... figuratively and literally! So, such as you call Gwenda 'mistress', now - at least here today in my cabin, you may now if you wish, call me 'master'."

"Yes, master! Please now spank me! Spank your stupid slavegirl... hard!" Already Ayleth was nearly breathless with anticipation. Just calling her cheerful friend 'master' had given her a sensual thrill up and down her entire body. She had enjoyed her submissive sexual games with Gwenda, as a reversal of everything she had once ordered her own attendants to perform on her, but already their relationship was becoming more like love and affection between equals, and true friends... not just a mistress and obedient slave. Here and now with Boyle, she felt something different, perhaps the genuine urge to fully submit herself to him, to indeed belong to him in body and soul!

Boyle gently leaned over to softly kiss her brand mark and then quite surprised her when his right hand smacked down quickly and hard upon the branded ass check. Another similar swift blow then struck her right one. Now Boyle fell into a rhythm as he firmly and remorselessly began to spank her, and increasingly hard.

"Hold my arms behind my back with your left hand, or tie them fast behind me!" Ayleth whimpered, more with lust than with pain. "I want to feel helpless in your lap, to be made to submit and obey you, regardless of what you ask of me or order me to do!" Boyle was more than willing to oblige her, and he picked up the sash from her dress and gently, but firmly, bound her hands together behind her back. Now with the Lady Ayleth squirming helplessly in his lap, he began to spank her anew, and with even more determination.

"It's confession time now, you nasty little bitch of a slut!" Boyle whispered into the squirming Lady's ear. "You're my branded little obedient slavegirl now! You wear my mark upon your delightful but scheming ass, and it... and you... belong to me now! Confess to me the truth, before I turn your butt a bright cheerful cherry red – why did you really come to my cabin today?"

"I... I wanted your forgiveness Boyle... I mean, Master!"

"The real truth, my scheming naughty slavegirl. You just wanted some naughtiness with a rude and crude stableboy!"

"No, my master... My Lord Viscount, and sworn Knight of Tellismere, it is you I want to beat me... to scourge all of the remaining wickedness out of me. I also then want to feel you inside of me afterwards... to fuck me... so that I would know that I was still alive and had really survived my ordeal after being captured. I wanted to know that it was really all over, and that I was safe."

"So by beating you, you would then feel safe? I don't understand."

"They whipped me, a lot before the Viscount then fucked my virgin ass, and although his prick was tiny... much less than yours or Rowans, I thought I would go mad, driven insane by pain and the shame of his rape, but instead I began to think of you. As he sodomized me and came into my ass, I kept my eyes shut and tried hard to pretend that it was you who was doing me instead. That thought kept me sane, all of that very long and unspeakable night. As more and more cocks used me and came into my mouth, cunt and ass, I would pretend that it was you and your seed that was filling me, otherwise the truth would have been far too terrible to bear! Now, here in your cabin, I wanted to feel the pain once more, but this time I know that it really is you who is disciplining me, and giving me pleasure, instead of just pain. Now, spank my ass harder, for I can feel every stroke making my pierced clit tingle even more, then when I've cum from just feeling the heat of your hand on my ass, use me as you wish! Fuck my burning ass! Let me feel you and your seed inside of me, so that I can then be happy, satisfied that my ordeal was indeed a thing of the past... and giving me a much happier memory to replace it!"

Boyle couldn't understand how it was possible, but the more he spanked her, the hotter and more aroused she seemed to become. In fact, it wasn't much longer before she did scream with orgasm, squirming on his knees.

"Fuck my ass!" She begged, panting with desire. "I can feel your cock pressing against my stomach. It's big and hard and fully aroused, and I need to feel it inside of me, now, please master!" She begged.

Boyle was not about to disappoint the Lady. His member was indeed quite as erect as it could get and with a little effort he pushed down his trousers, freeing his prick to press against Ayleth's stomach for the moment. Sliding his middle finger down the crack of her ass, he found her sopping wet cunt and used it to lubricate his fingers. One by one he inserted his dripping wet fingers into her ass, to lubricate it, and it willingly stretched open for him. When he though he had moistened her enough, he lifted her up with his strong hands so that he could get out of the chair and he placed her bent over a small writing table. With his cock now placed right against the entrance to her asshole, he stopped for a moment to make sure that she was ready and still willing.

"Do it! Take me! I need to feel you inside my branded, blistered, spanked and whip scarred ass! Make it belong to you, and take it as roughly as you desire... turn my fantasy memories of terror into more pleasant reality!"

Slowly Boyle entered into her until his groin was flush against her hot, stimulated ass, and slowly he began to thrust. He had thought that he would need to keep his pace slow, so that her tightly stretched ass sphincter could get used to his size, but it was the Lady who was eager to increase the pace.

"Take me harder and faster, master! You are bigger than all of the swine's lackeys and retainers who enjoyed me there, and far more filling than the pig of a Viscount himself, may he rot! With each stroke, you rub away their faces and deeds from my memory, and when you cum, filling my ass with your love, master, the last of their taint shall be quite washed away. Fill me my beloved master! Rinse me clean of the past, and leave me with only happy memories of you!"

When Boyle came, it was thunderous, it seemed, like explosions going off in his head as he exploded his cum into her ass. Never had he had such a strong ejaculation before and he found himself quite weary. The happy Lady Ayleth submitted to be untied, and together naked in bed they nuzzled together in each others arms long into the night.

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Lady Ayleth never dreamed again of the terrors of the brutal rapes she had endured during her captivity, and soon would never even be able to remember most of the faces that had abused her or the deeds that they had done. Her friend Gwenda was quite indeed right, Ayleth decided. Bad things sometimes do happen for no reason, if for nothing else but to make the good times seem just a little bit more special and appreciated. Now, tenderly being held in the arms of the good man that she had so often before abused, she discovered that instead of scorn for his base birth, her feelings were instead now quite different. So different in fact that she didn't really understand what she was now feeling at all! Her old attendants, such as Cedany had often discussed their feelings of love for their men, but Ayleth had never before understood those emotional feelings. Now, perhaps she thought she did understand, perhaps just a little.