Full Prequel Story So Far (Patreon)
Content
(Here's everything so far. I'm working feverishly on new renders, which will continue the story soon. If you didn't know, this story is intended as a Prequel to TKPrince's masterful Tale of the Three Swords which can be read on Diana the Valkyrie's site, and is illustrated in full at the start of this Patreon. This prequel shows some of the exploits of the story's villains, and how they came to join Marianna le Fay's campaign against Asia.
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The sleepy town of Dacqoise sat at a quiet bend on the river Cirop, and by all indications, should have remained a quiet, idyllic hamlet. Its well-built buildings and pleasant weather made it a pleasing locale for its small numbers of inhabitants. Its industries were farming and dairy on the outskirts, milling, and there was a small town center of tradesmen and merchants. Although small, the town was well-known for the various exquisite pastries made with the high-quality locally produced flour and excellent dairy products provided by the surrounding countryside. Although local business kept the farmers and the bakers well-compensated for their efforts, a small mercantile class had taken up the task of exporting these pastries to any cities nearby enough to deliver them with any degree of freshness. It was agreed, that even stale, the pies and cakes of Dacqoise were often better than goods baked elsewhere.
Sadly, history rarely has respect for the humble ambitions of small people who wish to carry out their lives in peace. Sadly for Dacqoise, the Cirop was a recognized border. At the time of the events recounted here, it was a border between the small kingdom of Plouffe, to which they belonged, and the Kingdom of Anoria, a rising power, recently under the control of a pair of ambitious sorceresses, who had taken it by force. Known for their relentless all-female army, their beauty, and their cruelty, the sisters Foxglove had set their sights on their quiet but prosperous neighbor to the west, and there were few that could hope to stand in their way. In response to aggression from Anoria, Plouffe had drafted the men of the kingdom to defend its capital, leaving small towns like Dacqoise to fend for themselves. Bereft of their menfolk, it was up to the women of Dacqoise to keep business going as usual, and hope the hostilities would stay far from their hamlet.
Fiona Foxglove of the Crystal Lake had a fearsome reputation beyond the juggernaut of her armies. An accomplished sorceress of immense power, she was also known for her vindictiveness, and her beauty. With her raven hair, and shapely body, it was reported that most anyone who saw her would fall under her spell, before she even bothered to cast a cantrip. Her sister, Selena Foxglove, was beautiful in her own right, yet was still envious of her sisterâs more classical beauty. On this matter, she compensated by making a point to dress better than her sister. Certainly, Fiona wore finery fit for a countess on a Sunday outing, but the taste tended to the more practical. She would often wear trousers! Her beautiful onyx-toned hair, she wore half-shorn and brushed to one side. Still, there was no doubt of her beauty, and these outfits, though less formally feminine than her sisterâs, revealed her perfect figure. This enraged Selena, whose figure was still considered near-perfect by many. She imagined how her extremely feminine attire would better display such perfection. She wore form-fitting dresses, and wore her hair in elaborate coiffures. Her makeup was carefully applied to maximize her best features, even though it wasnât subtle.
The ripples created by Selenaâs envy sometimes bubbled up to the surface. Those who witnessed disagreements between the two were rarely bold enough to speak of it, but somehow, there were rumors that the sisters werenât always civil to one another. This problem was compounded by the fact that, though both sorceresses were very intelligent, Selena was a bit smarter, causing Fiona to have her own resentment.
No one knew for certain if the formidable sorceresses were actually sisters, although they addressed each other as such. Their background before coming to power in Anoria was difficult to illuminate, and those who were astute enough to uncover their origins had the good sense to keep their findings to themselves. It was rumored that they had both travelled from the western peninsula to the misty isles as children, to learn to control the innate magic powers that were burgeoning in them. It was not known if they travelled together (as sisters might), or found each other there (as strangers might), yet it was agreed by all that their later departure from the Misty Isles wasnât entirely voluntary.
While the real relationship between the sorceresses remained a mystery, that was one of many. The two slept in locked quarters, sometimes in separate rooms, and sometimes not, preventing intrusion by order, fear, and powerful magical wards on the doors. If either had ever taken a lover to her bed, none remained to tell the tale. Some of their own followers held that the sorceresses were virgins, that their magical powers were enhanced by abstention from sex. Others believed them predators, seducing strangers for their pleasure, then disposing of them. Still others thought that they were one anotherâs lover, and that the âsisterâ relationship was merely a decoy, hiding their connection because there is power in understanding the relationship between people.
Almost as feared was the commander of their army, a tall, pale woman known as Rowena the Black for her raven hair and the dark plate armor she wore. Her martial prowess was said to be unmatched. Her presence on the battlefield was like death itself, terrifying her enemies and allies alike. Other knights would demure on points of honor with her just to avoid a duel. She rarely entered tournaments, but, starting with the second one she entered, it was customary for the other contestants to withdraw, as her reputation preceded her.
Two guards withdrew with a fearful salute as Rowena made her way into the tavern that had been commandeered as a base of operations for her armyâs forays into Plouffe territory. Selena was standing over a hefty table, covered in scrolls and books. Laid out was a large map showing the border, with the tavernâs knife collection stabbed into it, marking points of interest. Behind her, Fiona stood with her arms crossed, tapping her foot impatiently. Her corset revealed impressive cleavage above, and a bit of pale, toned midriff below. âItâs against your interest, dearest Rowena, to keep us waiting.â
Rowena scowled, âIt wonât happen again. I was cleaning up a conflict caused by the newcomers.â At that comment, a dark-eyed woman in battle-worn armor stepped away from the shadows at the edge of the room and glared at Rowena. The cosmetics on her freckled face, and the messy bun out of which her scarlet hair spilled belied the resolve in her gaze.
Before she deigned to speak, Selena broke the silence. âI know your distaste for working with mercenaries, Lady Rowena, but Commander Maeveâs troops have served us admirably.â Rowenaâs face registered a silent protest, garnering a smile from Maeve. âAnd, in case you have forgotten, this army and this war belong to us, the Foxglove sisters. You are a talented knight and leader, but youâre merely one important cog in a larger war machine. Understood?â Selena loved putting disobedient subordinates in their place, and her face seemed to become even prettier as her grin widened. âNow, to the matter at handâŠthe hamlet of DacqoiseâŠour gateway to Plouffe.â
âIf I may, your majesty,â Maeve started, flattering the sorceress with a title that had never been bestowed on her, although she was a queen, in a de facto sense of the word, âwhy Dacqoise? There are points along the river that are even more poorly defended.â
âIâm glad you asked, and so politely,â the sorceress responded, grinning at Rowena again to demonstrate the contrast between them, âDacqoise, though small, is the bread-basket of Plouffe. Youâve probably had its cheese and its pastries, even here in Anoria. An army, it is said, travels on its stomach. Should we take the town quickly, and quietly, weâll capture enough supplies to last most of the campaign. Not to mention the quality of the sweets, which will be excellent for troop morale. Weâll keep the townâs farms and bakeries producing with a small force left behind, and our soldiers will eat like nobles. Thatâs worth fighting for, is it not?â
âI humble myself before the wisdom of your words,â the mercenary commander responded, sweetly. Rowena rolled her eyes and received an immediate look of admonition from Fiona.
âIf you want that cow pasture conquered, your Majesties,â Rowena said, smiling as she one-upped Maeveâs sycophancy, âsend me with a squadron, thirty troops at most, and it will be yours within minutes. Weâre better and more efficient than mercenaries, and using your own troops saves you money.â
âIf you send me, your majesties, Iâll subdue the town just as quickly, but without sustaining casualties or captures, quite unlike this bumbling knight. My Crimson Horde will make short work of it, and youâll still have the full force of you armies when the real battle against the forces of Plouffe takes place,â
âBumbling?!â Rowenaâs hand flew to her sword. The mercenary smiled, and tapped the pommel of her own blade, threateningly. Maeve was the first person other than the sorceresses to be so insolent to Rowena in a long time. She wasnât used to being challenged. Of course, the Mercenary had quite a reputation herself.
âEnough. Both of you,â Fionaâs voice boomed unnaturally, reminding both officers of her sorcery, both women removed their hands from their weapons, and Rowena took a step back. âIâve heard enough of this. This is MY army and MY campaign. Youâll have to work together because I, I mean we, deem it necessary. Iâll have no more of these childish quarrels. Understood?
Both ladies nodded, blushing a bit.
âI think I have a solution,â said a new voice, from the back of the room. The officers turned, startled that anyone was listening in. Fiona, on the other hand, smiled knowingly, as a dark-haired woman in a lavish gown and tall hennin approached the table.
âThis is a small battle,â the woman continued , in a thick Italian accent, âI say we can afford to make it a wager, to settle your petty rivalry. Each of you will take a thirty of your own soldiers; whoever can capture the townââ
âAnd hold it,â Selena butted in, âno point in taking what you canât hold,â âYes, capture and hold the town for a day will earn a monetary reward from me,â the elaborately-dressed woman continued in her thick accent, different from any of the others in the room.
Fiona grinned, âand I have something for the loser, as well. Letâs just say that winning is preferable by far. Unless you shrug off your differences and work together, one of you will be humbledâboth by the two of us, and her rival.â
âAs I said, Iâll take the town,â Rowena said confidently. âA bunch of Plouffian hayseeds canât stop us; I can defeat the defenders myself, the troops are only needed for the occupation of the entire town.â
âWeâll swoop in and save the day when Lady Rowena fouls up an easy conquest,â Maeve responded.
Turning to the Venetian woman, Selena smiled, âThank you, Duchess Vittoria, for the funding and wise counsel you provide.
âWhat brings your interest to this conflict, if I may ask?â Rowena inquired.
The Duchess â eyes flashed anger as she retorted, âWe Romoli can choose whatever affairs pique our interest. We didnât become the biggest banking house in the world through isolationism. We dislike the trade policies of the current ruling house of Plouffe, and would like to see such a prosperous, if small, kingdom, governed by one whose ambitions are moreâŠin line with our own. Plus, their pig-whore of a queen refused to pay the massive debt her father owed us on his death, then, to add insult to injury, refused to wed her imbecile of a son to my older sister. In fact, the letter she sent was quite insulting. This dungheap of a kingdom will burn and she will suffer.â The next breath caught Vittoria as if she was unaware of her ranting. She breathed in deeply, then added, more calmly, âNot that this is any of your business.â
âAh, a noble cause, I see,â Rowena responded. Maeve raised an eyebrow, unable to determine how much the knight intended irony.
âWe thank you for the generous support, your grace, and look forward to collecting your generous reward,â Maeve said with a bow, before excusing herself from the war-council. Vittoria smiled; she had always appreciated how unabashedly mercenaries spoke her languageâthe language of wealth.
Fiona bit her lip in thought. After all, this was HER campaign, HER army. She would have preferred not to need the Venetian, not to share the credit. But wars were won by gold, and Vittoria had deep pockets. They would work with her for the time being. Later? Who knew what fate would bring. âRowena, gather your troops, the game begins. Itâs time to prove with your deeds the superiority you claim with your words.â
âI will not disappoint you, my mistresses.â âYou should hope not,â Selena scowled.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the river, the town of Dacqoise was blissfully ignorant to the powers conspiring against them. On a low scaffold in the town square, Corinna the Ă©chevin was hearing the complaint of a dairy farmer against a neighbor who she accused of witchcraft. Corrina had been made the local magistrate due to the fact that she had actually studied law at the royal university in the city. While the town wasnât large enough to provide her proper judgeâs robes, they appreciated her role in keeping the peace.
âThis is a serious matter,â she said gravely, âno one has been prosecuted in Plouffe for witchcraft in over 200 years.â âItâs still the law, and I demand satisfaction!â shouted the irate farmer. âPlease!â responded the accused, a fresh-faced young woman in a dress with red, black, and white stripes, â Iâm just a simple craftswoman. I know Iâm new here, but I beg you to send word to the capital. I am known there, and many will vouch for me.â Corinna squinted and rubbed her forehead. âThe charge is so grave, I think we owe her that courtesy.â âFine, but until then, youâd better keep her locked up.â âItâs not a crime to be a mage,â a voice called out from the villagers below.
Corinna thought for a moment. âNo, indeed, it isnât, but if the accusations about the cows are true, then the witchcraft law, though outdated, must apply. But if this is a baseless accusation, Miss Lowry, then youâll spend a day in the stocks for wasting the courtâs time again.â âThen come to my farm, and see for yourself. The cream is coming out already sour. Itâs witchcraft, I tell ye,â said the farmer, a tall, thin woman in a white dress with a blue apron.
âThe court will reconvene on the Lowry farm in one half hour, to contemplate the evidence. Clarabelle, escort Eleanor.â The constable nodded, and gently took hold of the accusedâs wrist. For her part, Eleanor followed without further protest. The constable was a large woman; she had been taller and heavier than all the other girls growing up. This, and her freckles had been the subject of ridicule and teasing in her youth. Now, she filled out a soldierâs mail hauberk and enforced the laws of the land. No one was laughing at her anymore, and she liked things that way.
Arriving at the farm, she brought Eleanor to where the magistrate and her accusers were looking at some of the cows. In a pen nearby, a bull bellowed. Lorraine produced a bucket, sat on her milking stool, and started milking the largest of the cows, as the magistrate watched with interest. Within a short while, she had filled the bucket with enough milk. Dropping a ladle into it, she offered it to Corinna, who demurred, gesturing to the Clarabelle.
âThat milk is sour, alright!â she said, turning her gaze on Eleanor. âWait!â Eleanor called. Everyone stopped and looked at her. âUp her sleeve.â âYou be quiet!â âCheck up her sleeve.â Lorraine stepped back, but the magistrate looked her in the eye. âPut your arms out.â âI milked the cow right in front of you! How could I get something by your watchful-â âPut your arms out. Now. Or Iâll have the constable do it for you.â
Lorraine put her arms out in front of her, and Corinna felt around her wrists and forearms. Feeling a lump on her right wrist, she reached into her sleeve, and produced a small glass vial, recently emptied of its contents. Passing it under her nose, she sniffed its contents. âvinegar.â
âLook, this isnât what it looks like!â âConstable, please escort Lorraine back to your office.â âAnd Eleanor?â âWeâll keep an eye on her for a while,â said Corinna, then turning to Eleanor, âbut itâs clear that this was just a setup. Why would you do this, Lorraine?â Lorraine looked down at the ground and spat, the saliva landing dangerously close to the magistrateâs shoes. Eleanor broke the awkward silence that ensued, âI think it has something to do with my questioning her about her visitors.â âVisitors?â âYes, foreign types, shady-seeming ones, that ride across the borderlands, usually late at night. They donât stay long.â
âYou shut up!â Lorraine called out. âAre you running a brothel right here in our town?â Corinna asked. âYes, thatâs it, a brothel,â Lorraine responded venomously. Corinna raised an eyebrow as she couldnât tell if the dairy maid intended irony. While she was contemplating, Eleanor screamed.
âSoldiers!â âThey arenât ours,â said the constable, loosening her grasp on Lorraine to shield her eyes from the midday sun, âSomeone has to warn our guards. Get back as quickly as possible! Sound the alarm.â
Before anyone else could act, Lorraine had slipped the constableâs grasp, jumped a small fence, and mounted a horse that she kept next to the cows. âIâll ride on ahead and warn them!â she shouted as she rode away. âWait!â shouted Clarabelle, running after her until she reached the horse. Then, turning to the others, she said, âWe need to get inside the walls. Now!â
The advancing troops were gaining on them. Instead of moving at a marching pace, these were running, to make best use of the element of surprise. At least a couple dozen could be seen by now; they carried no banner with them, but an all-female army of soldiers and conquistadoras in dark armor strongly suggested to anyone listening to local rumors, that, as the crown had feared, sisters Foxglove had arrived.
Lorraine was quite far ahead of them by now, but for some reason, she wasnât shouting to raise the alarm. Riding directly to the gate, she dismounted. Clarabelle tried shouting to her guards, but it was useless as they were too far to hear her. To make matters worse, the dairy maid disappeared through the gate, and for some reason, Patrice, who was on watch at the gate, was abandoning her post to follow her!
âTo the gate!â Corinna shouted, to no avail. The three of them would need to get there before the enemy and seal it. Thatâs when she heard another horse galloping, this time, behind them. Turning her head, she saw a huge black stallion, with a raven-haired rider in black armor mounted upon him. She was racing right for them!
The magistrate grabbed the tradeswomanâs arm, and tackled the Constable to the side of the road. All three landed in a pile, two of them dumbfounded to the meaning of this action, until the horse charged right by them. Clarabelle gave Corinna a thankful nod, when she realized the horse would have run them down. But now, the foot soldiers were right behind them!
âGo on ahead, Constable, close the gates and stop the attack!â Corinna ordered, âWeâll try to hold them off!â âWith what?â Clarabelle responded. âJust go!â As the constable ran toward the gate, Corinna and Eleanor stood in the road, weaponless. As dozens of soldiers advanced on them, only a small bridge over a stream standing between them and the enemy. âWhat was your plan?â Eleanor said. âI have no idea,â the Ă©chevin responded.
Eleanor bowed her head, closed her eyes, and seemed to be whispering to herself. âThis is not the time for prayer,â the magistrate said, trying and failing to take an intimidating stance. âStop!â she shouted at the soldiers, âDacqoise is a sovereign territory of Plouffe, and I am its Ă©chevin! You will stop and tell me what your business is here.â
A few of the soldiers stopped for a moment to exchange glances. Then, they laughed, and kept advancing toward the two unarmed women.
Suddenly, a bellowing bull charged down the road. Eleanor calmly watched, and Corinna turned to run. The soldiers on the bridge saw the bull headed for them, and, with nowhere to retreat, dove into the mud on either side of the low bridge to avoid being hit by it. The soldiers behind them likewise scattered, trying to steer clear of the raging beast as it ran toward them. Eleanor grabbed Corinnaâs wrist and tugged, âThis is our chance. Get to the gate!â
Reaching the city, Corinna ran to close the gate herself, at the same time calling to the oddly absent guards to do so. Eleanor, helping, watched the pursuing soldiers, who had dived from the low bridge to avoid the bull, extricated themselves from the mire, having to strip off their heavy gear in order to do so. Arms, weapons, waterlogged boots, and most of their clothes were left behind as they pulled their bodies from the squelchy mud. More soldiers were coming, but the bull had given them the time they needed to get inside the gate.
As the gate nearly shut, she saw the bull disintegrate into particles of light, and momentarily, there was nothing where it had been. She smiled. Finally, they slammed it shut, and barred it.
In the meantime, Patrice, the gate guard, was panting, having run to the center of town at high speed, in full armor. âAre you sure Clarabelle ordered me to the town square? Whatâs going on?â âIâm sorry,â said Loraine. âFor what?â the winded guard asked, visibly annoyed. The answer arrived in the form of an unexpected punch to the jaw. As she fell on the ground of the town square, she could hear the gasps of the townspeople, and as she lost consciousness, she saw Loraine taking her mace from her belt.
âWhatâs the meaning of this?â shouted Angelique, a local merchant, as she approached Lorraine.
Loraine waved the mace menacingly at the merchant. âGuards! Help!â Angelique screamed, stepping back, âSheâs gone crazy!â Lorraine lunged forward to keep Angelique away, but no other members of the townâs short-handed security force appeared to help.
âYou should have run,â Lorraine said. âCome to think of it, Iâve never liked youâŠwith your golden locks, your purse full of gold, your expensive garbâŠyeahâŠthatâs it. Get that dress off, right now. I think it would fit me.â âYouâre insane!â Angelique replied. âJust do itâŠor youâll see what this mace does. Things are about to change around here.â
Angelique bit her lip, and her gaze shot around the square, looking for someone to intervene. Then, she slowly pulled the dress over her head, in shock that the dairy maid was committing crime after crime in broad daylight.
âUgh, I should have guessed that you werenât wearing anything under it. Now I have to wash it. Just drop it on the ground in front of you, and back away.â Angelique did as the woman with the mace commanded, using one arm to cover her petite breasts and the other over her shaved womanhood. In all her days, she had never been exposed like this. Lorraine, still threatening with the mace, seemed to be enjoying it.
Just then the town bell, kept near the gate, rang. âWeâre under attack!â came a scream from some nearby street. âEveryone! Get inside!â another voice shouted. Angelique knew any chance of rescue had probably evaporated with that bell. Or had it?
The dairy farmer was so intent on the scene in front of her that she missed Emile, the local tavern maid, who was coming up behind her as quietly as possible. Grabbing the heavy end of the mace with both hands, the heavy-set blonde tried to wrest control of the weapon. Angelique almost turned to run, but paused, seeing her chance to cover up, by getting her dress, if Emile was able to stop Lorraine. But Lorraine stomped on the dress, keeping Angelique bent over and tugging on it, as she fought against Emile.
Finally, Emile tore the mace loose, and let it clatter to the ground a few feet away. Lorraine, disarmed and concerned, now squared off with the much huskier barmaid. âI will beat your ale-guzzling lardass,â she taunted. âThink again, milk-drinker!â the heavier woman shot back. Meanwhile, Angelique was still hoping to get her dress, but both of them were now standing on it. She considered just running home, but then she looked again at Lorraine.
The dairy farmer caught the barmaid by surprise with a gut punch, and it looked like she had the upper hand. Grabbing her by the hair, she was planning on delivering a knockout punch, when something pulled her own hair so hard it yanked her head back. Emile recovered, and grabbed her arms.
Angelique stunned her with a punch, then grabbed hold of her dress. âWhat are you doing!?â Emile shouted âknock her out!â But Angelique pulled the dress up, and pulled it up over the dairy farmerâs head. The tavern maid had to let go as the dress came over the arms she was holding. In no time, Angelique had Lorainneâs dress off, revealing a red, lacey bra and panties. âHow do YOU like it?â the merchant said, enjoying a modicum of revenge. Lorraine, however, was better-endowed than the merchant, and wearing undergarments. This made it slightly less satisfying, and Angelique planned to remedy the situation.
âWe need to get out of here, weâre under attack!â Emile said, âGet Patrice, and letâs go.â But Angelique was already grabbing the stunned Lorraineâs panties and tugging them down. A flustered Emile decided sheâd have to knock the dairy farmer out, and bring the other two into the tavern for safety.
Thatâs when they heard the hoofbeats approaching. Fast at first, they settled into a trot. Emile moved aside as a huge black horse, bearing a rider in black armor, with a huge sword over her shoulder, made its way into the square.
The rider dismounted, and, holding her sword toward the barmaid threateningly, addressed Lorraine. âSo, you are the one that opened the gates for us.â Lorraine nodded. âTraitor!â Angelique spat, but an ironclad gaze from the armored woman made her bow her head silently. Addressing Lorraine, the knight continued. âI see youâve run into some trouble here.â
âYes, Lady Rowena,â Lorraine said, bowing her head. Angelique, realizing the tides had turned against her, dropped Lorraineâs red lacy panties that she had still been holding. A breeze carried them away before Lorraine could recover them.
Rowena looked at Emile, the only full-clothed townsperson. âYou strip her, and tie her up, then this one,â she commanded, gesturing first to Emile, then Angelique. Iâll deal with the guard. Patrice was just starting to regain consciousness. Rowena found her discarded mace, and stood over her, with her sword in one hand and the mace in the other. A black-armored sabaton came down on Patriceâs chest. âStay down. You have been thoroughly defeated.â Rowena said, smiling.
Lorraine took pleasure in stripping the woman who had engineered her defeat. Unlike the other townspeople in the square, Emile had a voluptuous and soft body. Like Angelique, she wasnât wearing undergarments, instead relying on the laced-up bodice of her dress to keep things in place. Lorraine delivered a few swats to her large, round breasts, soft flanks, and large buttocks as she finished undressing her, then tied her wrists and ankles with the strong lace that kept her bodice together, leaving Emile tied up on the cobblestones.
It was not difficult to bind Angelique, who put up little resistance at this point, and soon, she was lying next to Emile.
âNow, take her clothing and armor,â Rowena commanded, removing her foot from Patrice. In no time, Lorraine had pulled Patrice to her feet and removed her armor. âNothing personal, dear Patrice, she taunted, as she put on the armor. âYou were just in the way.â She left the denuded guard bound in the town square as Rowena gave the next orders.
âMy soldiers should have already occupied this square. Take this,â Rowena said, handing the mace to Lorraine to complete the outfit. âWe will make for the gate and see whatâs wrong.â With supreme confidence, she patted her horse and left it behind as the two of them made for the gate.
âWhen the attack was announced, most of the townspeople hid inside,â Lorraine informed the knight. âI tend to have that effect on people,â Rowena conceded, smiling wickedly.
Arriving at the gate, they found Corinna and Eleanor having just closed the gate, and Clarabelle, having secured the area, headed straight for the town square.
âWhat are your plans here? I order you to leave our peaceful town immediately orââ
âIâll take care of this one, â Rowena said, smiling, âYou can handle the others, I take it?â
âWhen we defeat them, I want custody of these three,â Lorraine said, âItâs personal.â
Clarabelle charged Rowena with a high attack. Rowena easily parried; her skills were such that her opponent posed little danger to her, and she smiled, glad to be fighting a trained warrior at least. Conquering this town had proved no challenge at all, and she was honestly bored.
Clarabelle tried and tried again, rebuffed each time by Rowenaâs defenses. The knight was drawing out the fight, using it for entertainment and light exercise, and Clarabelleâs hopes sunk as the realization gradually dawned on her.
Lorraine ran toward Corinna, but the magistrate did her best to stay away from the armed dairy farmer. Iris managed to stand still long enough to cast a spell. A bull came running down the ramp. She hoped that this illusion would set her opponents to flight as it had last time. Rowena barely noticed the rampaging bull, and Lorraine looked at it for a moment, and attacked unfazed. Of course, the model for the bull had been Mortimer, the large, ornery beast from Lorraineâs farm. Knowing where she had last seen the beast, Lorraine realized it was an illusion, and now targeted Iris.
After about a dozen parries, Rowenaâs expression changed. With one flick of the wrist, she disarmed Clarabelle. Keeping her blade aimed at Clarabelle as a threat, she then executed a quick series of precise cuts, aimed at the support system of her armor. Clarabelle was too terrified to move, as Rowenaâs sword stripped her, one piece of armor at a time. First her belt and scabbard, then her skirt, then the chainmail. AS the armor fell away, her plump flesh popped out, as if freed from a sardine can. In a short time, she was wearing only a skimpy pair of white panties, her boots, bracers, and the blue bow in her hair.
âYou were a fool to challenge me!â Rowena declared, âBut I suppose you know that now. Kneel and Iâll spare your life.â
Clarabelle complied. Iris, out of tricks, dropped to her knees and surrendered to Lorraine, and Corinna, begrudgingly, had to follow suit. âThat was easy!â Lorraine gloated. âYou, over here!â Rowena commanded to Clarabelle, putting her on her knees next to the other two. âYou, get that gate open. Iâll âinspectâ these prisoners. Lorraine nodded and headed to open the gate.
Rowena, in the meantime, smiled as she looked on the first three of her prisoners in the newly-conquered town. âWhat have we here?â Passing Clarabelle, she muttered, âIâve already seen the large but ineffective guardâŠwho are you?â Corinna didnât answer immediately, and Rowena didnât wait. âWhat a nice head of hair. It would be a shame ifâŠâ she put the blade of her sword near the magistrateâs neck.
ââŠ.something happened to it.â Corinna gulped as the razor-sharp blade was drawn back. Instead of her throat being cut, she saw locks of her hair catch wind and blow away. Corinnaâs eyes went wide, glad to still have her head but concerned. The shine of the nightâs armor confirmed her fears. Rowena had bobbed her long, lovely hair above her chin. Falling out of her fancy updo, her hair frizzed out to the sides.
But the knight wasnât finished. As the gate opened behind them and soldiers under Rowenaâs command flooded through the gates, she looked down at Corinna. âThat dressâyou look like someone important. Well, that wonât do. Youâre nobody now, and should look like nobody. With a few careful flicks of her razor-sharp blade, she sliced through the bodice ribbon, allowing the magistrateâs chest and stomach to pour out of it. Another quick slice allowed her skirt to pool at her knees.
âThatâs it! Search the houses! Gather everyone in the square. Confiscate weapons, food, or useful supplies!â Rowena ordered as her troops ran by.
âMiâLady?â Lorraine asked tentatively. âMay I have these three, per our agreement?â âIndeed. And your payment will arrive with the Venetian.â âIf it is not too much to ask, Milady, may I have a soldier assigned, to help control these three?â Rowena glanced over the town around her. âI have more than enough troops to occupy this defenseless little hamlet. Veronica! Mercedes! Youâre with Lorraine here. Help her keep control of these prisoners, and generally do what she asks, within reason. And hereâŠâ she said, now to Lorraine, taking a sword from the belt of a soldier wielding a polearm, and handing it to Lorraine, âtake this.â Then, to her soldiers, she shouted, âSend a messenger to the sorceresses and the Venetian. Weâve taken the town.â
The two soldiers saluted and placed themselves on either side of the group of prisoners. Both wore chainmail hauberks and had light hair. Mercedes was built heavier, and carried a cutlass. Veronica was armed with a spear, which she pointed threateningly at Eleanor. Lorraine smiled. âThis here is Eleanor. Watch her, sheâs a witch. But for now, I think we should search her to make certain she isnât hiding any weapons.â
âIf I had been hiding weapons donât you think I would have put up a fight?â Eleanor pleaded. âNo matter, have her strip. If she wonât, wellâŠâ Lorraine ordered, as she tore the remaining bits of Corinnaâs dress off.
Threatened by Veronica, Iris stood up and began stripping. Soon, she was down to a corset, her panties, and the white leggings she had been wearing under her skirt. Still threatened by the spear, she opened the corset, and let it fall to her feet.
Unknown to the town or its occupiers, Auriane, a villager who worked as a courier between Dacquoise and the capital, was on the road when the town was occupied. From a distance, she saw that something was wrong. Coming closer, and trying her best to remain unseen, she saw the evidence of occupying forces along the walls, then ran back to her horse, riding to the capital with as much haste as she could muster. She would go to the queen herself if thatâs what it took, and return with the royal army.
Back in the town, Rowena stood atop the platform in the town square, and smiled quietly to herself as she watched her troops work. Homes were being raided, inhabitants ushered out, things of value looted. âTake the finished food, but bring the ingredients to the town square!â she ordered. All was going according to plan.
Behind her, Lorraine ushered her prisoners onto the platform. With the help of Veronica and Mercedes, she ushered the three of them into the stocks, while the other soldiers drove the villagers from their houses, into the town square.
Rowena spoke to the troops one more time. âLorraine helped me take the city with no effort, thanks to the plans we made with her. In return, Iâm going to let her put on a little show for all of you.â
Lorraine smiled, standing behind the women in the stocks. âThank you, MiâLady. People of Dacquoise! You know me as your neighbor.â âTraitor!â came a voice from the crowd. The soldiers walked around, looking for the source of the voice. Lorraine squinted angrily, then continued, Before you, see your Ă©chevin, the high-and-mighty magistrate who has judged everything in this town since this conflict began. Yesterday, this pig threatened me with the stocks. But after giving her some new style,â she gestured to Corinnaâs close-bobbed hair, âIâve seen her blubbery backside in front of you, on this scaffold, in the same device she wanted to lock me into.â
The soldiers cheered; they didnât know Corinna, but seeing the chief magistrate of the town they had conquered in the stocks drove home their success. The townspeople were largely silent. Even those who thought Corinnaâs leadership hadnât benefited them knew she didnât deserve this.
âAnd Clarabelle, the pigâs loyal cow,â Lorraine continued. âYou were always a big girl, werenât you. And you played at being important. Constable. Captain of this little cow-pastureâs joke of a gendarmerie. Now people can see you for what you really are.â Landing a slap on her backside, she then grabbed her hanging belly.
âWell, donât forget about this witch! This ugly little illusionist canât be too god at magic, or sheâd do something about all thisâ (Lorraine gestured to Irisâ face and body). âBut she made my milk go sour. Sheâs trying to put me out of business.â
Iris spoke up, âYou were in league with the enemy this whole time! You were angry that I tried to report you!â
âQuiet, lying witch!â Lorraine shouted, gesturing to Mercedes, who started slapping Irisâ backside with the flat of her cutlass. Iris grimaced and moaned. âThat will teach the little witch. Veronica?â Veronica came to Lorraine, who whispered something to her. She nodded, and climbed off of the scaffold, pushing through the crowded square, then into a building off the square.
âWell, that looks red enough,â Lorraine said, admitting Mercedesâ work, ânow what about the others?â
âMessage for you, your graceâŠum, your highness,â the foot soldier said as she lingered at the tavern door. Taking the note from her, Selena nodded, and she left, clearly worried that staying too long in the tavern-turned command base could go poorly for a lowly messenger. âWell?â Fiona asked. âIâve taken this cow pasture with little resistance. Thereâs no one left to put up a fight, everyone is in custody, come at your leisure. I look forward to collecting the reward on our wager, as well.â
Maeveâs face darkened. âWell, isnât Rowena confident?â Fiona remarked, âI hope sheâs assessing the situation correctly. Perhaps itâs time to find a new base of operations, further into enemy territory? âWe havenât yet encountered the Queenâs army. Perhaps caution is in order,â Selena remarked, showing the note to Vittoria.
The Venetian glanced at the words. âFortune has smiled on us, and Rowena has come through long before the day is out. I will make my way to the town.â âWe can send a detachment to guard you,â Fiona offered. âIâll take my own bodyguard. Besides, I owe a reward to someone in Dacquoise other than Rowena, and Iâll seek her out and settle affairs. Itâs important for everyone to know the Romoli ALWAYS pay their debts.â With that, Vittoria left the tavern.
âThe army of Plouffe will rescue us!â Corinna said, as she felt Mercedes tug her panties down her thighs. âThe Army of Plouffe?! You think theyâd risk an encounter in open terrain?â Lorraine mocked. âThey are probably concentrating their forces in the capital city and moving the crops and population inside.â
âYou traitor! Youâll pay! Youâll--OUCH!â Corinnaâs recriminations were interrupted by the flat of a sword smacking her backside.
âAnd to think YOU were going to lock ME in these stocks!â Lorraine taunted. âYou wonât get away with-owww!â Corinna responded. The three women writhed in the stocks, to no avail. They werenât getting out.
But then, with a fanfare, a carriage rode into the square. The townspeople, on their knees as they were, had to be moved by the guards to make way. Veronica cursed as the elegant coach nearly sideswiped the small wagon she was pushing.
Rowena, who had been watching quietly, walked over to the carriage and helped a veiled woman out of it. Gesturing to the square full of pacified, kneeling citizens, she said, âDuchess! Welcome! Youâll see I have completed the mission as we discussed. Subduing this cow pasture was easy for seasoned troops like mine.â
Vittoria smiled, âYes, Lady Knight, but I think you forgot that completion of that task involves HOLDING the town.â âHereâs the entire population, on their knees, watching their magistrate get stripped and spanked in the stocks. What could go wrong?â Rowena scoffed, as the two ascended the scaffold. Pushing by the knight, Vittoria walked over to Lorraine. âYours is not the only reward I am here to grant, Rowena. Iâll fulfill our bargain, when the day is through.â Looking at Lorraine, she said, âThank you, here it is, as promised.â She handed over a heavy purse. Lorraine opened it and looked down, examining the coins inside, before hanging it from her belt. âThank you, Duchess Vittoria. It was a pleasure working with you. âLikewise. Now, on with whatever show you were putting on!â
Veronica came back to the stage, having pulled in a cart laden with what seemed to be baked goods. Creamy pies made up the majority of it. âI have what you asked for.â âWhatâs going on here?â Rowena interrupted, âthis food is for the army.â Veronica saluted before responding. âIt seems that our invasion has interrupted the rate of trade here. These were meant to be consumed by, um yesterday.â She handed one to Rowena, who smelled it, wrinkling her nose in disgust. âWell, you seem to be correct. Proceed.â âThereâs so much more where that came from,â Veronica offered. âIâm just glad that these spoiled cream tarts arenât for me,â Rowena said, uncharacteristically light-hearted. âOh, andâŠwe brought this one. Found her tied up in the square,â Veronica added, as another guard shoved Patrice forward, her wrists bound. âThe more the merrier,â Lorraine responded, âWeâll make room.â
Patriceâs thin form contrasted with some of the fuller-figured women on stage as Veronica untied her and led her toward the stocks. More wiry than robust, Clarabelle had doubted her when she volunteered to serve in the town guard. She had proven herself in practice combat amongst others in the town, but, like Clarabelle and so many others, she had fallen far short when confronted by Rowena the Black. âHowâs this one so svelte in this town of cheesecake and sweet cream?â Vittoria asked, somewhat rhetorically.
âMercedes? No one said you can stop.â Lorraine said, gesturing to Clarabelle. âAh, Clarabelle. A great name for a milk cow. Perhaps I should milk you. Itâs my job, after all,â she teased, as the flat of the guardâs sword reddened the chubby cheeks in front of her, making the large woman jiggle with each smack.
âGet those huge panties off her, if you have to cut them off! Theyâre ruining our enjoyment of the view.â Mercedes nodded as Lorraine barked orders at her. Rowena herself had instructed them to listen to her, after all.
After a little while, Lorraine pointed at Patrice. âGet the skinny one now, then weâll move on to act two.â The side of Mercedesâ cutlass smacked against to the smallest, firmest target it had yet hit. Unlike the others, Patrice didnât jiggle. Instead, the loud smacks connected solidly with the firm little backside, eliciting a wordless high-pitched exclamation from the guard with every hit.
Lorraine watched and smiled. Picking up one of the over-the-hill cream tarts, she passed it to Vittoria. âWould you like to do the honors?â Vittoria grimaced at the smell of the pie, but Lorraine gestured to the pilloried women, and a smile crept across the Venetianâs face. âWhich one shall I start with?â
âTake your pick,â Lorraine replied. Vittoria observed the four women carefully. âThis one has an intelligent, but haughty bearing.â Lorraine smiled, âYour perception is most precise. Thatâs the Ă©chevin of this little dunghole of a village.â Vittoria looked back for a moment, smiling, then slammed the pie into Corinnaâs face.
Corinna sputtered as some of the spoiled cream went into her mouth. Vittoria smiled widely. âThat was as enjoyable for me as it was disgusting for this little cow.â
âSpeaking of cows, Clarabelle, I think this gross, runny cream smells a little over the hill. Let me know, as a cow, what you think.â Lorraine smacked the guard in the face with a pastry just as rotten as the one Vittoria had given Corinna, but, for some reason, it was of much runnier consistency. Its drippiness did Clarabelle no favors, as it smelled even worse.
In short order, Lorraine hit Iris with a pie, while Vittoria did the same for Patrice.
âWell, now we just watch the bunch of your collect flies like the excrement you are, hmmm? Or are there perhaps more ways to have fun with you will you rot in the stocks?â Lorraine taunted.
âWho has the biggest and most luxurious house in the town?â Vittoria asked. âIt would be this piggy, right here,â Lorraine said, pointing to Corinna. âIâll send my servants ahead to prepare for our stay,â the Venetian replied. âBut we can enjoy our victory a little while longer,â she added, gesturing to the women in the stocks.
Rowena cracked a smile. âThis town is conquered. Send the villagers home. Weâll stay out here until it gets dark.â She punctuated her statement by slapping Clarabelleâs backside with her sword.
On a hill above the city, three women dismounted and took stock of the strategic situation. âI say we wait until nightfall. It wonât be THAT long now. We can get in and get the job done quietly.â Said a freckled, athletic brunette dressed in a sleeveless chainmail and holding a bow. âNo offense, private, but Iâm the most experienced among us,â an equally-freckled, green-armored knight with fiery red hair responded. âEvery hour we wait, they might add more troops, and their grasp on the town tightens. We have to act now. And nothing about this operation is likely to be quiet. Only speed and surprise are on our side.â
âLook!â said Auriane the courier, dressed in a blue coat and beret, âthey are dispersing the citizens.â
âBut what does that mean?â the archer replied.
âThatâs good,â the knight responded, âwe canât take the village with just the three of us. We need help from the townspeople.â
âNone of them know how to fight, Lady Helenaâ Auriane said, âexcept maybe for the ones in the stocks.â
âAnd that isnât our biggest problem. I bet they have no weapons,â the archer chimed in. âWhy couldnât the queen have seen fit to send a detachment of troops to take the village back?â
âWhatâs your name, private?â the Knight asked. âBroussard, sir. Marjorie Broussard.â
âWell, private Broussard, you may be a hot-shot archer, but a soldier learns not to question the decisions of her sovereign.â
âNo doubt she thought she needed every soldier to defend the capital,â the courier said.
âAnd she might be right,â Helena responded, âbut as it is, only two of us volunteered to help you save your village. Weâre going to have to do it through stealth and guerilla tactics.â She nodded toward Broussard as she spoke, âSheâs right. Do they have any weapons?â
Auriane frowned. âNo, sir. Dacquoise, as you know, is a village of farmers, millers, and bakers.â
âWhat DO they have that we could use, then, farm tools?â Broussard asked.
âThe tools would be out in the fields, and too heavy for us to bring enough to arm the populace. IT has to be something already in the townâ Helena pointed out.
âWell, we have plenty of pastries, flour, honey.â
Helena interrupted, âHoney?â Auriane nodded. âSo you have beehives? Perhaps that CAN help. I once had a bee inside my armor, and it wasâŠan unpleasant experience. It would, at the very least help distract, if not disable some of the soldiers.â
âYou could always blind them with those big, creamy pies they make here,â Broussard interjected.
Auriane frowned, âThatâs crazy.â âThen give us something better,â the archer responded.
A short time later, the three of them were sneaking up to the walls. âItâs here,â Auriane said, pointing to a short section of wall that was low compared to the ground around it. A small pile of dirt, branches, and leaves made it climbable. âThis is a security mistake,â Helena commented. âYes, but teenagers use it to leave the village and return without getting caught. All small villages have spots like this.â As the archer helped the knight up the wall, she added, âthe guard captain should find out about these activities and put an end to them.â âHave you ever met a teenager?â the messenger responded, while Helena reached to help the private climb the wall.
Broussard looked around, her trained eye taking in the situation. âTwo guards over there, three over there. They are in groups, which is badâbut at the same time, discipline is lax and they arenât paying attention. At least they are far enough apart we ought to be able to disable the groups one at a time.â
âThen, thereâs the guards you canât see yet,â Helena added, âwe need to disable each group quickly before they catch on. And we need to rally the villagers quietly. Who do we need to meet?â
âEmile the tavern-keep can rouse much of the town if you contact her,â Auriane mused, âbut we also need Yvette.â âYvette?â the archer asked. âYes, sheâs an eccentric little woman whoâs always trying to invent things to make business run more efficiently. Sheâs a competent smith, and great if you need to fix a simple tool. The problem is when she comes up with an idea to improve it.â
Helena looked quizzically at Auriane, and gestured to continue. âShe has these grandiose ideas that she calls âmechanicsâ that she learned growing up with the gnomes. Some people think sheâs half or a quarter gnomish, but thatâs neither here nor there. The problem is that her inventions always end up humiliating or hurting someone. Luckily, she often falls victim to them herself, but enough others have suffered that sheâs been run out of town twice.â âAnd sheâs still here?â âShe always comes back, and we need a tinker in town to repair our tools, and sheâs a good one if she doesnât try to improve them.â
âWhy do we need her then?â the private asked. âWere you not listening?â Helena admonished, âher inventions always seem to humiliate or hurt people. The trick will be deploying them against the enemy, instead of ourselves.â Auriane nodded. âThereâs just one problem. Sheâs more than eccentric, and a little skittish, being that the town has turned against her more than once. I think I can talk her into joining us, but not if I get captured.â
Helena nodded, âThen our plan is clear. Iâll find this tavernkeep, that ought to be easy enough. Private, go with Auriane and find this Yvette. Try to stay below the radar, but protect her if you can. And try not to actually hurt anyone.â
âCome again, sir?â a bewildered Broussard said. âThese women are soldiers just like you. They arenât evilââ âBut they are fighting for the Foxgloves sisters.â âExactly. They are following orders. ITâs those who are giving the orders that are evil.â âAlright, alright, try not to hurt anyone,â the private said, rolling her eyes.â
After sneaking behind a pair of guards who were engaged in a raucous conversation about which Plouffian ale is the best, Auriane and Marjorie Broussard arrived inside Yvetteâs workshop. As her eyes struggled to adjust to the relative darkness, the archer noticed that walls were hidden behind an eccentric collection of books, devices, jars, gears, and unrecognizable objects that littered the shelves. In the middle of one wall, the shelves were interrupted by a workbench desk covered in strange devices.
As Auriane looked around the room, Marjorie became intrigued by one of the objects on the desk. âDonât touch anything!â the courier whispered. Although the stealthy archer was usually amazingly alert, she was so distracted that she was taken entirely by surprise.
âHave at you!â said an aggressive but high-pitched female voice. As she turned to react, her whole world went white for a moment, then her eyes and nose started to sting. Her hands went up to her face as her bow clattered to the floor. âYvette!â Auriane called out, hoping not to be loud enough to attract attention from outside the building. âAuriane?â the tiny woman replied, pulling a lever that caused a skylight to open and bathe the room in light, âAre you working with this rabble?â
âWhat did you do to me?â said Broussard, âI canât see.â âServes you right, sneaking around my workshop you Foxglove pig.â
âNo, Yvette, sheâs from the capital. Sheâs here to help.â Yvette, clad in a pair of unusual brass spectacles and a striped vest and trousers, looked guiltily between Auriane and Marjorie for a minute and then said, resignedly, âWell, in that case, it isnât permanent. We just need to wash you down a bit.â She looked at the cream-covered archer in front of her. âNormal pie...â âNormal pie?â Broussard said in disbelief. Yvette bit her lip. âWell, I may haveâŠadded something. Letâs get you washed up,â she said, changing the subject. âWhat did you add?â âDonât worry. I was cooking some months back, and I like my food spicy, so I was using cayenne pepper. Itâs an imported spice. Pretty expensive, but I love the stuff. But I got it in my eye.â She produced a bucket of water, and held it out toward Broussard. âDunk your head in here, and open your eyesâŠâ The suspicious private, annoyed, did as she was told. âSo anyway, when these dullards came charging into Dacquoise, I had to think of a way to keep them out of my workshop. So I nicked a couple dozen pies, coated them in the pepper, and built this.â
Marjorie Broussard pulled her head from the bucket, her eyes still a bit red, and looked at what Yvette was pointing to. It looked a bit like a small catapult. âYou use that to launch pies?â âNot just pies. This can throw just about anything I put in it. A few quick calculations for mass and aerodynamics, and I can hit a mosquito at a hundred paces.â
âThat could come in handy!â said Marjorie, still angry, and eyes still burning. âI told you we had to find her,â Auriane said. Turning to Yvette, she added, âWill you help us?â âIâm honored to help the queenâs army. You did bring the army, right?â
Marjorie shook her head, âitâs just us.â Yvette suddenly looked terrified, âLet me get this straight, the Foxglove sisters army invades the town, and the queen sends an incompetent archer defeated with cayenne pepper on a pie?â
Private Marjorie Broussard was incensed, âWhy you little b-â âWhat my companion means to say,â Auriane interrupted, was that the queen saw fit to send her and a knight of great renown to assist the valorous people of Dacquoise in defending themselves. Iâm sure reinforcements arenât that far away, but we need to take the first steps.â
Yvette looked incredulously at Auriane, as if deciding how big of a lie she was telling. âWhatâs going to happen if we do nothing?â Auriane added. Yvetteâs expression softened. âIâll do what I can to help this knight of renown and this incompetent archer.â âYou little sh-â Broussard started. âShe means to say that she thanks you, the queen thanks you, and the village of Dacquoise thanks you,â Auriane interrupted again.
Yvette grinned, âThanks of the village, hmm? Maybe they wonât run me out of town anymore?â Auriane offered a silent nod of approval, then suggested âletâs start with those two on the corner outside.â Her eyes brightening up a little now that they were no longer stinging, Marjorie grinned evilly, âDo you have any of those beehives I heard about?â Yvette thought for a minute, then smiled. âI can do better than that!â
Along the wall nearby, Veronica and Mercedes were still involved in a passionate discussion of ale. âHah! Thatâs nothing next to a good olâ Almerian Stout!â Mercedes said. âYou have the taste of a gutter rat! Plouffe Brewery Brown is a superior brew any day!â
*Splaaaat!* âOwwww!â Mercedes shrieked.
âWhat the hell was that?â Veronica asked. âEwwww, itâs something sticky,â Mercedes replied, putting a hand to her backside.
âLooks like aâŠ.bladder of some kind?â
âWhatâs this on my butt, is itâŠâ Mercedes dipped her finger in her mouth, ââŠhoney.â
âThatâs the only way anyone will ever describe your big, flabby ass as sweet!â Veronica laughed. âOw! My chest! Where are these coming from?â
Mercedes picked up her saber. âSomebodyâs gonna pay.â
**Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz** âWait, whatâs that?â
âRun! Bees!â
The guards ran, but the bees followed. âItâs the honey! We need to get rid of it!â Veronica gasped. âItâs all over my armor!â Mercedes protested, then she nodded. Running toward the edge of the wall terrace, she jettisoned her armor, following Veronicaâs lead.
As the honey-splattered armor fell onto the rocks and scrub brush below, the bees followed. The danger passed, the two guards barely noticed their curvy bodies were exposed in only skimpy undergarments. Mercedes breathed a sigh of relief. âQuick thinking, Veronica.â Veronica shook her finger, âWeâll have to hide until we retrieve them, when Rowena finds out we threw our armor off the wallââ âBut where did that honey come from?â Mercedes interrupted, looking concerned.
âItâs funny you finally remembered to worry about that,â came a voice from behind them. The two guards turned, shocked, and raised their hands in surrender as they saw Private Broussard and Auriane the messenger step around the corner, weapons drawn and aimed at them, while an eccentric-looking woman they hadnât seen before giggled.
âWhat do you want to do with these two?â Auriane said, looking to the soldier. âOh, I have the perfect place for them,â Yvette offered without being asked, âitâs an empty closet that I can lock. But letâs tie them up first.â
Yvette quickly disappeared back into her workshop and emerged with two lengths of rope. Mercedes and Veronica looked at each other but were forced by Broussard and Auriane to wait patiently. The inventor quickly bound their hands, then, before leading them away, decided to remove what garments they had left.
âThereâs no time for that,â Broussard ordered Yvette, who paid no heed as she pulled down Mercedesâpanties. âOhhh, not a natural blonde, after all?â Veronica almost cracked a smile, until Yvette knelt next to her and tore her own undergarments down. âNatural or not, I donât know, sheâs bald down there.â âJust get them inside, fast, before weâre discovered,â Broussard ordered. Yvette popped up a finger as if she had just been reminded of something important. In very little time, the two guards were gagged with their own panties and left locked in a closet at the back of the inventorâs workshop.
____________________________________________
Meanwhile, Helena had slipped through the town and entered the tavern.
âWell, this is quite a watering hole for such a little village,â she said, announcing her presence to the three women around the bar.
A heavy-set blonde dressed as a tavern maid looked her up and down then responded, âThis is a private gathering. Nothing that concerns you, soldier. We ask that you leave us in peace.â
âI think you misunderstand my intentions, missâŠEmile, yes, you must be Emile. Auriane told me that you were in charge here.â
âAuriane? Is she alright?â âShe came to the capital city asking for help for Dacqoise. The queen could not spare any troops at this time.â âFigures,â Emile responded, in a guarded tone. âBut I, Helena the Green, am a knight errant, only adjunct to the court of Plouffe.â âWhat the hell does that mean?â a red-headed tavern maid asked, grabbing a bottle.
âIt means she was free to defy the queen and come here to help us,â Emile translated, adding, âDid you bring troops?â Helena blushed a bit. âWell, not exactly.â âNot exactly?â âIf you wish to be a nitpicker about it,â Helena continued, âI brought âtroop.â But sheâs quite the archer.â
âNot to be rude, Sir Helena, it is sir, right? Dame? Whatever. Weâre up against an entire army here. One knight and one archer isnât worth jack,â Emile responded. Helena nodded, âNot without the citizens. Auriane told me that you were the one who could organize a resistance.â âA bunch of dairy farmers, millers, bakers, and shopkeepers? No thanks. Weâd be slaughtered.â
âWell, itâs either fight with what we have, or live under the boot of the Foxglove sisters. Iâm sure youâve heard stories of the rampant corruption, strict punishments, and high taxes that follow them?â Helena replied, desperate.
âThatâs not going to work on me. Our people are weak, vulnerable. We have no weapons, and we canât fight.â âWhat do we need to do?â said the fourth woman in the room, a woman dressed in the white clothing of a baker, lightly dusted with flour.
Emile cleared her throught, âSorry, thatâs Amandine. She owns the biggest bakery in town. Ever have those honey knots? Yeah, theyâre from her shop. Iâm Emile, and this is my barmaid, Sabrina.â
âWe need people, and we need weapons. We also need to act fast. It may be a whole army out there, but, last I looked only a dozen or two occupied your village. They may be reinforcing as we speak.â
âAgain, miss knight-errant, we have no weapons and no warriors. I already tried to fight back, and Sabrina here had to scrape me off the cobblestones of the plaza,â Emile said.
âIâm sorry you were hurt, Emile, but we really need to organize the people, right now,â came a new voice. Silhouetted in the doorway were three figures. Emile could make out Auriane in her beret, another figure was tall, carrying a bow, and the one speaking wasâŠ
âYvette? I thought youâd be holed up in your workshop, behind traps and impenetrable locks,â Emile said. The inventor saddled up to the bar and crossed her arms. âI was. These two convinced me that we need to fight, and weâve already had some qualified success.â
âQualified success?â Sabrina said, âwill the lot of you stop using such fancy words?â
Auriane smiled, âYvette got two of the guards to strip themselves and hold still as she tied them up and locked them in a closet.â Amandine looked intrigued, âHowever did you do that?â
âThrough the magic of honeybees,â Yvette said proudly.
Emile frowned, âWell, good for you, but we canât sue that trick on ALL of the soldiers. We donât have enough bees.â âWhat DO we have?â Private Broussard chimed in. Yvette smiled, âAmandine, are your pantries full?â Amandine simply nodded. Yvette continued, âPies. We have so many pies.â
âPies are no use against swords, spears, or clubs,â Emile responded.
The inventor grinner, âAu contraire, pies are my new secret weapon.â A dubious expression crossed the tavern keeperâs face. Yvette produced a bag. It wasnât a huge sack, but it seemed almost too large for her to have hidden up until now. She passed it to Amandine. The baker looked inside, causing her to sneeze, then a smile crossed her face. âI see.â
Yvette grinned at the bakerâs recognition of her genius. âWe HAVE to fight. Emile and Sabrina, rouse the people. Amandine and I will head to the bakery and weaponized her stock.â
Helena looked confused, âAnyone want to fill me in on whatâs going on? Pies as weapons? This seems crazy.â Yvette smiled, âIt WILL work, green one. Ask your friend the archer.â Helena looked to Broussard, who responded with a grimace and nod.
Emile sighed, âSo be it. Knight, youâre with me. Weâre going to need to show some outside force to convince some of them. Everyone meet here in an hour.â
The participants nodded, then stealthily dispersed, some through the back door, some through the basement.
___________________________________
An hour later, several of the villagers united at the tavern, as quietly as possible. âAlright,â Helena said, standing on the bar, âWe outnumber them, and we have the element of surprise. Amandine and Yvette have supplied you with what you need. Those pies will temporarily blind and distract the soldiers. Disarm and strip them. When the coast is clear, tie them up. You threeâdonât let them out of the gate. We canât have them brining reinforcements. Private Broussard, youâll lead the gate team. Yvette, you are with me. Weâre going after the commander. Iâve heard some scary stories, and Iâll need your help to take her down. The rest of you, divide up into five groups. There are four places we know guards are stationed. The fifth will comb the streets looking for stray guards, and help the other groups when necessary. Everyone understand their assignment?â There was a quiet grunt of consent from the group. âAlright, letâs move!â
At a nearby intersection, three Foxglove soldiers were conversing to pass the time on another long and uneventful watch. âI think theyâre lovers, not sisters,â said Brittany, a heavy set woman, holding a spear over her shoulders. âAre you kidding me?â May said, leaning against the wall casually, her sword resting behind her back, âDo you see how much they look alike?â âStop itâ scolded Marcia, âYou never know whoâs listeninâ.â âHave a look. Nobodyâs around!â May argued. âThey have maaaagic,â Marcia whispered back, âwe donât need ta see them for them ta hear us.â Mayâs face reddened. âThatâs what they want us to think. To live in fear of them all the time, while I for oneâwell, hello, what have we here?â
Three townswomen were walking toward them, each holding what seemed to be a pie. Marcia stepped forward. âYouâre supposed ta be indoors. No oneâs allowed on the street. Weâre going to have ta-â âThey have food,â Brittany interrupted. May smiled. âAs my colleague here just informed you, itâs not legal to be out on the streets while this settlement is under occupation.â The women looked at each other, as if frightened. âUnless,â May continued, âyou only exited your domiciles to offer us victuals.â âWha- What?â the blonde townswoman in a grey apron asked. âIf you came to bring us lunch, we donât have to tell anyone you were outside,â Brittany translated, âgive us those pies and go quickly, before we change our minds.â
âThatâs the plan,â a sassy brunette in a linen dress and corset said, as the three approached the guards. As if counting down from her signal, the three acted in unison, feigning to hand over the pie, but then simultaneously smushing it in the face of each guard. It was easy to disarm the distracted guards, who were forced to drop everything to wipe their burning eyes. In moments, the townswomen had taken control of the situation.
âWhat did you do to me! Whatâs in this?â May growled rubbing her eyes. âI suggest you quiet down,â said the brunette townswoman, waving Brittanyâs spear. âNow, take off that armor and put it on the ground between you. Quickly!â ordered the blonde who had taken the sword.
Marcia nodded, and quickly pulled off her mail hauberk and the tunic underneath, leaving her breasts and torso exposed. May was more circumspect, removing her boots and pants first, but trying to keep her top on. Brittany was the slowest. Removing her boots first, she kept stalling. She really didnât want to be exposed. âHurry up!â said the brunette with the spear. In a short while, May was entirely nude, her large breasts hanging down. Marcia was trying to delay removing her panties, her last article of clothing.
Brittany took a deep breath and pulled off her mail. The armor had been acting as a barrier to being seen, and without it, the weight of eyes upon her made her wince. âWhoa, sheâs a biiig one!â one of the blondes said, âlook at that belly and those floppy boobs!â Brittany blushed. âTurn around, let us see the other side,â the sassy brunette with the spear ordered. âSelma, tied them up,â the blonde with the sword said to the blonde with the mace. Selma did as told, but tied Marciaâs hands behind her back, the other two in front. âI want to spank her with her own sword,â the other blonde laughed, and proceeded to give May a good thrashing with the flat of her blade, and then had Brittany bend over and offer up her oversized backside. After a few swings, the brunette townswoman intervened. âTori, weâre out of time. Get them inside, we need to meet the others.â
The guards were led into Selmaâs house, where they were thrown down into the dark cellar. âThat should keep them until weâre done with taking back the village.â
The town square was nearly empty, aside from the pillories on the scaffold, in which Corinna, Eleanor, Clarabelle, and Patrice were locked, and the three women relaxing and enjoying occasionally tormenting them. Rowena hoisted her heavy sword onto her shoulder and smiled. âIn a few hours, the sun will set, weâll head in, have ourselves a feast from the pantries of the house, and turn in. In the morning, we will have held this town for a day.â Vittoria smiled, âYes, yes, your reward, Lady Rowena. Youâd best be careful; youâre sounding like one of those mercenaries you claim to hate so much.â
âIâll return to my cottage, I have to prepare to move somewhere better,â Lorraine said, fondling the purse of coins Vittoria had recently handed her. âIndeed,â said Vittoria, âplease join us for dinner at the echevinâs home this evening.â Lorraine made her way toward the main gain, with no idea that it was under the control of Broussard and the townspeople.
She hadnât been gone long, when Rowena and Vittoria were interrupted by an unexpected voice from the square below: âLady Rowena! Your aggression against the peaceful people of Dacqoise has not gone unnoticed. I am here to free them.â
âOh, myâŠa challenge,â Rowena said, stepping toward the front of the scaffold. âAnd presented with such confidenceâI have to admit the idea of a good fight makes me tingle in all the right places. Of course, my reputation precedes me, but I donât know who you are. May I have the pleasure of my challengerâs name?â
âI am known as Helena the Green,â the knight said with a bow. âI can see why,â Rowena said, gesturing toward the verdant armor. âBut it will take more than a green recruit to beat me. Are you sure you donât want to scurry back to whatever rock you slithered out from?â
âPerhaps I should find a more suitable location while you deal with this,â Vittoria said, her voice cracking with cowardice. Rowena chuckled, âNo, stay and watch me school this haughty knight like I have so many others. She needs to learn how to speak to her betters.â
Rowena leapt from the scaffold, and the duel commenced. âYou have no chance, Helena the ginger. Surely youâve heard tales of my prowess?â Rowena merely parried every attempt Helena made to attack, not even bothering to launch her own offensive. She was playing with her opponent. âI donât know how you expect to beat me if you canât even hit me?â
Vittoria, much comforted by her allyâs performance, started laughing, âpathetic!â Meanwhile, the women in the stocks were cheering this mysterious knight on.
âI like you, little ginger,â Rowena said, still parrying every move Helena made, âthatâs why Iâm not going to kill you. Iâm going to humiliate youâŠslowlyâŠand enjoy every minute of it.â With that, Rowena started her offensive. A masterful series of cuts to Helenaâs tunic let the garment blow away, leaving her in her bracers, pants, boots, and greaves. âNow!â shouted an unsurprised, but still humiliated Helena.
That was Yvetteâs cue to loose her miniature catapult. With a massive SPLAT, a golden glob exploded over Rowenaâs black armor. âWhatâs this?â she said, looking down. Turning to Helena, she laughed. âYou thought to defeat me with what, honey? Thatâs right, run, you little fool.â And Helena was backing away to a safer distance.
The next catapult shot landed a beehive, just feet from Rowena. A bone-shaking BZZZZZZZ came from the angry insects. In moments they were swarming around the honey splattered over her dark armor. Her attempts to wave them away with her sword only made them angrier, and, from her face, it was apparent she had received at least a few stings under the armor.
In short order, she started furiously doffing her armor. First the pauldrons, then the gorget, then her breastplate and harness. While one might have expected layers of clothes underneath, each of Rowenaâs armor pieces was carefully molded to the shape of her ample body to provide not only protection, but maximum comfort and support. Her flesh practically spilled forth from the armor that had been endowing her with a much more lithe, compact shape than what was underneath. Helena felt disappointed that so few people were there to see Rowenaâs chubby body being revealed, bouncing frantically as she waved her arms at the angry bees.
But Yvette wasnât done with the knight who had arranged the occupation of her village. âSwish!â another shot of the tiny catapult, and another blob of honey, this time on her exposed pants.
Vittoria was alarmed at the change in the knightâs fortunes. She looked around for Foxglove soldiers, but none were there to protect her. She had assumed Rowena could keep her safe, but this green knight had resorted to dastardly tricks, and was defeating her. For her own safety, Vittoria thought a quick retreat was in order.
Click-Zzzzzzip! She barely had time to process the sound, when her vision suddenly went white. Her henin and veil had been knocked loose, her eyes were burning, and her face was covered in cream. Unable to see while she descended, she fell to her hands and knees in front of the scaffold. Yvette smiled as she cranked her tiny catapult back and changed the payload.
Cl-Splat! Vittoriaâs eyes were just coming into focus when she felt something hit her backside. Putting a hand behind her to feel her dress, she ascertained what she feared. It was honey. In moments, the bees were flocking to the skirt of her gown. Sheâd have to get this honey off of her, and this meant jettisoning her dress. This left her in a pair of elegant white panties, a lacy garter belt, and white stockings. Now that the burning in her eyes had subsided, she again decided that this might be a good time to make a run for it.
With Rowena and Vittoria distracted by the bees, Helena made her way up the scaffold and started to free the townswomen from the stocks, one by one. âWho are you?â Corinna asked. âNo time to talk now, letâs get you free!â Working her way down the line, she released Eleanor, Corinna, Clarabelle, and was about to free Patrice.
But unbeknownst to them, Rowena had jettisoned her boots and panties, and, now wearing nothing by some lacy panties that seemed wedged uncomfortably into her ample backside, had retrieved her sword. Now the bees were ignoring her, focusing instead on the honey-smudged gear she had discarded. With sword in hand, she made her way toward the unsuspecting Helena.
âLook out!â Corinna shouted, but Yvette was already on it. SWOOSH! SPLAT! âMy eyes!â Rowena was forced to drop her sword for the second time today. In fact, for the second time since she was a child. Helena turned around and pointed her own sword at her. When her eyes stopped burning from the pepper in the pie, she saw something she hadnât seen before: she was soundly defeated. She looked to her sword, but realized she had no time to reach it. She was a prisoner, at least for now. âYou cheating coward! Iâll make you pay!â
Helena smiled in response. âWhat was that you said about humiliating me slowly? I think the tables have turned. Ah-ah, donât move now.â Gesturing to Clarabelle, Helena ordered, âLetâs get her in the stocks.â Clarabelle didnât usually enjoy taking orders, especially from strangers, but this time was different. âMy pleasure!â she said as she approached the defeated knight from behind. Grabbing her arm in one hand and the waist of her panties in the other, she pulled Rowena into a painful wedgie, keeping the knight nearly on her tiptoes as she walked her up the scaffold steps. Just before reaching the stocks, Clarabelle, clearly taking pleasure in torturing those who did the same to her, gave a vicious tug, and the white lacey panties tore clean off Rowenaâs body, the pain of the pressure on her nethers eliciting a tiny shriek from the fearsome woman.
Clarabelle fastened Rowena into the stocks, nude as she now was, and Helena gave her a few smacks on the backside with the flat of her sword. Handing Rowenaâs sword to Corinna, she smiled. âWant a turn? Iâm going to make certain we have control of the village. Corinna passed the sword to Eleanor. âClarabelle, Patrice? Weâre going to help her. Itâs too bad that shrew, Vittoria got away. And the traitor, Lorraine.â
It was then Yvette reported to the scaffold. âWeâve successfully taken back every quarter of the town, and your friend has Broussard has something that might interest you.â âOr somebodies,â as Broussard said, proudly, leading a half-nude Vittoria and a still fully-clothed Lorraine into the square. âWell, wellâŠputting you at the gate was an inspired strategy,â Helena said, smiling, âdid anyone get away?â
Broussard put away her arrow and slung her bow casually over her shoulders. âThe other prisoners were taken to the basement of one of the larger bakeries, where they have locked up some of the enemy soldiers.â âI hope the locals are kind to them,â Helena said. Yvette responded with an evil grin, âIâm sure theyâll get the treatment they deserve.â âFor now,â Helena continued, we have to harden our defenses against another attack. Yvette, you and I will see to that.â âI think the people of the town would like to see some justice done, letâs gather them in the square, aside from those needed to guard our makeshift prisons, and get these two in the stocks with the commander here.â âYes,â Helena said, âbut donât kill or maim them. Be merciful.â
âHah!â Broussard exclaimed, âWhat a softie. From this day forward we ought to call you Helena the Merciful!â Helena laughed, then she, Yvette and Broussard went to shore up the townâs defenses.
Clarabelle had been embarrassed by being stripped, but her anger had grown beyond that emotion. She picked up Rowenaâs sword and examined it, then tested it by smacking the knightâs ample backside.
Auriane then turned her attention to those recently-freed from the stocks, starting by giving her coat to Corinna. âThe Ă©chevin shouldnât be nude,â she said, looking at the others and shrugging. Iris scurried away, looking for clothes of her own to wear.
âPeople of Dacqoise, gather around!â Auriane said, âThese are the women who occupied your town, the foreigner who funded them, and the traitor who let them in! They humiliated our leaders, subjugated us, and would make us slave away producing food for the enemy army. Will we take that?â âNo!â shouted a woman in the crowd. âNo!â Auriane shouted back. âDo we want justice?â âYes!â more of the audience shouted back.
But the revenge was already underway. As Clarabelle continued to wail on Rowenaâs wobbling bottom with the flat of her own dark steel greatsword, Corinna grabbed the back of Vittoriaâs panties and pulled them into a painful wedgie.
Patrice was garnering applause by forcing Lorraine to remove the armor she had taken from her, piece by piece, and putting it on. As the traitor was systematically stripped, the denuded town guard was able to cover up again. This continued until Lorraine was fully nude and Patrice was armored.
Locking Lorraine in the stocks, Patrice started to seriously punish the woman who stripped her, while Clarabelle continued beating Rowena with her own sword, and Corinna gave Vittoria the spanking of a lifetime.
The spanking went on and on, to the enjoyment of the townspeople who had gathered to watch. The backsides jiggled, from Rowenaâs the biggest, to Vittoriaâs chubby butt, to Lorraineâs small one.
After some time, the beatings reached a crescendo, and Auriane stepped forward and spoke to the crowd: âI think itâs time we see what the rest of the town thinks is appropriate for these women.â There was a massive cheer, as the townswomen ran toward the scaffold. The three wouldnât have an easy time of it.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the river, scouts were reporting back to the tavern that served as the forward command center for the Foxglove sisters. âThe town is closed, miâlady. I think perhapsâŠthe villagers took it back?â âImpossible,â Fiona spat, instinctively. Maeve tried to restrain a smile. âI told you that fool wouldnât be able to take and hold even a small town like Dacqoise.â Fiona gave her an icy look âI made that fool my general. What are you saying about my choices?â
âIâm sorry, your highness. Please, just let me take a small, elite group of my mercs, and we will take it and hold it.â âMy sister wonât like it,â Fiona said, biting her lip, âbut she felt her spell research was more important than being in the command center. Sheâs not here, so Iâll allow it. But youâd better not disappoint.â
âI never do,â Maeve said, smugly. Just then a second scout burst through the doors, bowing deeply when she saw that she was interrupting. âIâm sorry miâlâyour er, highness, but the villagers have retaken the town. From the hill above, we can see the streets empty of our soldiers andââ
âSpit it out, scout,â Fiona commanded. âI-i-itâs Lady Rowena, your highness. Sheâs in the stocks, naked as the day she was born. So is someone else, in very fine stockings.â
Maeve shot an urgent look at Fiona, who nodded. âScout, this is very important,â the Mercenary captain said. âGo to my camp and get me the Bonecrusher.â âBonecrusher, Madam?â the scout said. âJust go. They will know what I mean.â
A few minutes later, the door opened, and a woman in a red suit and cap, and a yellow vest entered the room. âYour Highness, this is Carlotta,â Maeve said, as the mercenary bowed. âSo, Carlotta,â said Fiona pointedly, âI hear you are the best of the best.â âAye, my sisters and I are. They call me the bonecrusher.â âGood, goodâŠ.how are you at stealth?â Fiona continued. âWell, my sisters may be a little quieter than I, but none of us are strangers to, letâs say, covert action.â
Fiona nodded to Maeve, who continued the briefing. âLady Rowena has lost control of Dacqoise, itâs up to the Crimson Horde to get it back and hold it. There is a high-value asset being held in the stocks in the town square.â Carlotta nodded enthusiastically, âWe will get General Rowena back for you.â A flash of anger shot over Maeveâs face. âI said a high-value asset, not a fat horseâs ass.â Fiona looked angrily at Maeve, who cleared her throat, and continued. âFor all I care, you can leave that fat cow out to pasture. Itâs Duchess Vittoria we want you to concentrate on freeing. Once she is safely out, we want you to open the gates for us.â
âWhat you ask will be done in short order. Be prepared to attack when we give the signal.â
Maeve nodded, âI know. Make certain that Vittoria knows it was the Crimson Horde that saved her. Dismissed.â
Carlotta bowed again, saluted, then exited the tavern. The last thing she heard was Fiona's voice: âLike I said, Maeve. Youâd better not disappoint.â
In another tavern across the river, the women of Dacqoise were toasting their success at liberating their town. In a huddle at one end, three other women were not so celebratory. âItâs only a matter of time. They WILL attack again.â Helena said. âIâve done what I could to prepare usâŠIâve set up traps all over the walls and approaches, I put Amandine in charge of organizing the citizens to find some weapons other than pies or bees.â âHow did it go?â Helena asked. âSome pitchforks, broomsticks, rolling pinsâŠnot that well. Even if we had proper weapons, and troops, weâd need a lot of warning when they attack.â Helena nodded, âThatâs why Broussard is on watch. She has the sharpest eyes in the Plouffian army.â âSpeaking of troops,â Auriane added, âI think Iâll hurry to the capital, tell them of our success, and beg for reinforcements.â Helena nodded, âBe careful. You can invoke my name, for what itâs worth, but it might not carry as much weight as you think. Most of them thought that I was a fool for leaving the walls of the capital.â
Auriane departed, Broussard stood watch, Yvette and Helena planned and schemed, but the night passed without further event.
While stealth operations usually took place in the dark, Carlotta and Martina had decided that they were in unfamiliar territory, and wanted to be able to see where they were going. So they watched and waited, until the very-alert looking archer on watch was replaced by a town guard whose senses seemed less acute.
âOK, remember the plan,â Carlotta said. Martina nodded. âWe separate, each find our own way over or under the walls. Donât get spotted. If one of us is seen, we retreat and try to get the villagers to give chase out of the city, making the job easier for the rest of us.â âGot it, but perhaps we shouldnât have worn such bright clothesâ Gretchen said. âPishposh,âCarlotta responded, âWeâre the famous sisters of Switzerland, nothing can stop us.â
With a nod, the three went to separate parts of the wall to try to infiltrate the town. Carlotta followed the wall north of the gate, looking for weak spots. Near a patch of holly bushes, she noticed a buttress in the wall with spaces large enough that she could get her hands and feet between the stones. She stretched her shoulders quickly, then started scaling the wall.
About three quarters of the way up, she grabbed onto a stone that came loose, and lost her purchase, plummeting down the wall. Trying to muffle a scream as the leaves tore at her skin and clothing, she landed unceremoniously on her backside in a holly bush. Unable to stifle her curses, she climbed to her feet and inspected the damage to her pants. The leaves had torn several places on the legs, but much of the backside had been torn, revealing her polka-dot panties. She sighed and kept walking, looking for another way over the wall.
Carlotta, meanwhile, had walked around to the south, where she found a section of wall where walls of buildings were built into the defensive works. The walls were higher here than in some other places, but the patchwork nature of the construction looked promising for climbing. âWell,â she said, cocking an eyebrow, âthis looks like the place.â
With catlike precision, Carlotta scaled the walls, balanced on a buttress, and worked her way from one section of construction to another, using the variation in building styles as a foothold. But just after she reached the top and relaxed for a second, she noticed the marbles under her feet. She tried to catch her balance, but her momentum coming up the wall had left her moving slightly forward. It was little consolation that at least she fell on the inside of the wall.
What could have been a bone-crunching thud was instead a gurgling splat, as the mercenary plunged into a too-conveniently placed pig sty. She lifted her head from the filthy slop long enough to witness one of the sows chewing on her beret, then lost consciousness.
Meanwhile, outside, Gretchen, the youngest of the three sisters, was examining the fortifications in search of a weakness. Spying a rope hanging from the top of the wall, she approached it for a closer inspection. Who would leave such a hazard to security? Were there dissenters in the walls who wanted the Foxglove sisters to conquer the town? Was this the work of some Foxglove soldiers enabling their rescue? Or is this the place one of her sisters had climbed in and let down a rope to enable her to follow?
She found no evidence to answer any of these questions, but, as she drew near the rope, the ground became soft and muddy. Her steps became difficult as her boots sunk into the mire. She considered turning back, but found that the ground under her was sinking fast. It seemed she had found a patch of quicksand. Luckily for her, the rope was just within reach, and she was able to grab it and climb out, unfortunately having to sacrifice her sodden boots.
Much relieved, she found that the rope was firmly attached to the wall. But to her unexpected chagrin, the wall had been outfitted on either side of the rope with small hooks. She hadnât detected these, and her climbing position kept her upper body far enough from the wall that they hadnât been an issue. Her legs, however, were a different story. The hooks found purchase in her pant legs, and her attempts to extricate them were futile. As she climbed the wall, her pants were slipping down!
Sadly, there was no going back, due to the quicksand. And her attempts to free the garment were frustrated by the number of hooks and the variety of angles they had been placed at. Again, sheâd have to sacrifice an article of clothing to the circumstances. This was not how her infiltrations had ever gone in the past, and it made her nervous as she continued up the wall in her hat, top, and white panties.
Finally reaching the ledge, she pulled herself up without difficulty. As a mercenary, she had pulled herself up more than a few ledges even at her relatively young adulthood. She cracked a slight smile knowing that that terrible quicksand and wall hook experience was behind her.
She should have been looking in front of her, however. As she planted her feet on the wall and stepped around to survey the situation before her next move, she failed to watch the stone under her feet. By the time she felt the slippery olive oil, it was too late; she was slipping off the wall!
"Gopfertelli! My eggs are scrambled!" she cursed as her fall was broken by a flagpole that was located directly below the puddle of oil. Indeed she had landed with one leg on either side of the flagpole. She was starting to understand that this couldnât be mere coincidence.
But there was no time to think on that any more, as her battered pussy slide down the cold metal pole, which was inclined toward the wall, until her back was against the stone. Already on guard for such things, she realized that tiny hooks had pierced her shirt and vest. Maybe they would keep her from falling any further.
Then, things took a turn for the worse, if that was possible. With a creak and a groan, the metal flagpole started to come loose from the wall, first inclining away from the wall. Her shirt and vest, instead of holding her in place, came unbuttoned, and she slid on her crotch, again, out away from the wall. She nearly screamed, anticipating a long fall.
To her surprise, the fall was broken, in short order, as her backside made contact with a wide, thin plank that was inexplicably projecting from the wall just below the flagpole, the puddle of oil, and the attachment of the rope that had allowed her to escape the quicksand.
The full brunt of the impact of her fall was taken by her round backside, her cheeks flattening against the wooden plank which had just enough give that it felt like a giant paddle. In fact, to her surprise, it behaved as if it was attached to the wall using springs!
The springboard launched her a few feet into the air againâŠ
âŠand dropped her again on her beleaguered behind. But this time, a mechanical click was heard, and she watched a small string that had been attached to the underside of the springboard snap. Her mind couldnât understand the significance of it, but it was less than a second before it became apparent.
The string had been attached to a rope, which held on one side, a counterweight. As the string broke, the counterweight pulled down on the rope, which, through a pulley on the ground was connected to a lever. The lever was connected to a tiny catapult, which was loaded and carefully aimed. All this meant for Gretchen was that in addition to being de facto spanked by the springboard, her vision was suddenly stolen from her by one of Dacquoiseâs famous cream pies.
The bad girl cleared her eyes, but the springboard wasn't done with her yet. She bounced another five or six times, her backside red with screaming pain. But then, the plank shifted just as the flagpole had.
Again, she anticipated a serious fall, although she was less than half as high as she had been when the flagpole gave out. The plank, instead of breaking, angled itself down, and the splinters her glutes acquired as she slid down were painful, but the least of her worries. At the end, there seemed to have been another hook, and this broke her fall by catching on the back of her white panties, the last article of clothing she had left.
She had been left suspended from the plank by a wedgie!
The panties dug into her, both back and front as she dangled. Terrified, she swung her arms and legs to try to right her position. To what end, she was uncertain. She was still afraid to look down. The soft fabric of the panties couldnât handle all the strain of her violent movements in addition to holding her up, so they gave out sooner, perhaps, than they would have, sparing her some time in the indignity of a hanging wedgie.
If she HAD looked down, she would have seen the ground down below, and the giant potted cactus that had been carefully placed below the plank, flagpole, oil puddle, and climbing rope. Even though she was on a stealth mission, she couldnât help but let out a short, high-pitched squeal as her well-spanked cheeks made contact with the spiny plant. Of course, her attempts at silence were also moot, as whoever had decided to place a cactus there, presumably the person who placed the rope above the quicksand, spilled the oil, and installed the flagpole and plank, had thought enough in advance to install a bell, attached by a short piece of wood, into the cactus. It had clanged in alarm the moment her burning backside had been pierced with spiny cactus needles.
The silence broken, and her apprehension inevitable, Gretchen let out a series of expletives and threats directed at the hypothetical creator of the trap that had systematically stripped her, spanked her, hit her with a pie in the face, and landed her ass-first on a cactus.
Moments later, she was surrounded by spear-wielding townswomen. And a petite, begoggled woman in striped pants and a leather corset was starting at her, arms crossed, with a huge smile on her face.
âIt worked!â she said, cheerfully, to no one in particular. âI mean, I knew it would work. The engineering was precise, as I learned from the gnomes. But what Iâm surprised about was someone was actually dumb enough to climb a rope that offered such convenient access to the town. I mean, only an idiot wouldnât know it was a trap, am I right? Of course I am!â
Gretchen, who had just undergone the slow and painful process of being extricated from the cactus by the townswomen, glared at her. âWhen my sisters come to my rescue, I am going to make you pay. With every fiber of your being. No one humiliates me!â
Yvette pointed and laughed. âEmpirical evidence says otherwise.â
Gretchen was almost insulted that the archer and townswoman who led her away didnât bother to tie her up. In reality, however, any threat she might have posed was mitigated by the cactus needles in her rear that made her whine with each step. She was led to the town center, where she saw her mission objective, Vittoria, in the stocks, along with Rowena and others. Seeing a powerful warrior like Rowena in this state made her shiver with fearâher enemies were more competent, perhaps, than sheâd imagined. And her heart dropped as she saw Carlotta led into the town square at spearpoint moments later. A defeated look on her face, she had her hands tied behind her back, and she was stripped to her underwear. Her face and neck were filthy for some reason, but her body was clean. The mission was lost, and they were captivesâunless Martina could save them.
Outside the walls, Martina, unaware of the failures of her sisters, was examining the fortifications for a weakness to exploit. She rubbed her sore bottom, and pulled an uncomfortable holly leaf out the back of her panties. Then, her eyes fixed on the stream that ran under the walls of the village. On the gate side, there were heavy bars and no space that would allow entry, even for a child. But, walking around to the other end of the walls, she found that the stream came out from under the town in what seemed to be a kind of large drainage pipe. Looking down at it, she pinched her nose. âMore like a sewer. But itâs a way in,â she muttered to herself. She took her sword and tried to pry off the gate that protected it.
After ducking through the pipe, the tunnel opened up. To her surprise, it was high enough for her to stand in. She had no torch, so it was convenient that there was enough ambient light from the occasional holes in the tunnelâs ceiling. The disgusting slime made of various solids and liquids whose origins she didnât want to contemplate luckily wasnât even over the top of her leather boots. But the stench, there was no escaping that. In spite of this, she tried to keep her wits about her, and move forward stealthily.
She hadnât been inside too long, when she heard a curious slurping noise. She stopped walking. Nope, it wasnât her boots. Narrowing her eyes, she peeped into the darkness down the sewage-pipe-turned-corridor. She could see the environment ahead shimmering. She had no idea why. She held her weapon at the ready.
She realized too late that she should have run. As the thrust with her sword, the jiggly surface in front of her made a terrible squelching noise. It not only accepted the sword, it pulled it into itself, and did the same with Martinaâs arm, then her entire body! Soon, she was swimming in the confines of some kind of cube, whose substance wasnât quite liquid, nor was it solid!
To her surprise, her clothes started to dissolve right off of her body. She tried to get out, but the walls of the cube kept her trapped, although she could move inside it. Her pants, then her vest, then her blouse were gone, and soon it had dissolved her underwear, too. Her hands shot up to her head and she was pleased to realize that it didnât seem to harm her hair. Yet. Her boots were taking longer to dissolve as well.
Fumbling for her sword, she finally tried slicing her way out. She could swing it freely, until it hit the walls of the cube. Then, it cut the surface as if she was cutting a piece of leather. As she created punctures, the gelatinous substance of the cube drained out, and she was able to extricate herself from the disgusting creature. But she was covered in its slime, and worse, escaping dumped her into brown liquid on the ground that she hoped was mud. She looked down. Even her boots were gone, and she was covered in foul-smelling muck. She considered going back the way she came in. But now, she was much, much closer to the light ahead that must have indicated an opening she could emerge from.
Climbing up, Martina found herself in a sort of wooden chest. Then, she looked up and saw the round hole, and realized where she was. She had to gag to keep her lunch down. Nevertheless, this was the way out she was looking for, and she squeezed herself out through the hole into what seemed to be an upper-class home. She looked around for something to wear, but heard footsteps approaching. She slipped down some stairs, and out through a door.
Blinded by the light, Martina was nude, slimy, angry, and unsure of where she was. It was dumb luck that she hadnât been spotted yet. As her vision came back into focus, she saw a courtyard with a scaffold. On it, she recognized her target, her sisters, and Rowena. Usually such a sign would have amused peasants throwing rotten fruit, but most of these figures seemed to have been on that scaffold a while, and the crowd had moved on to other things, leaving the prisoners guarded by a slender, ponytailed woman in town guard armor.
Sticking to the shadows as long as she could, she worked her way around behind the guard. Climbing the scaffold as silently as possible she positioned herself right behind Patrice, and hit her with the pommel of her sword, knocking her out.
Walking to the front, she said, âLady Vittoria, I am here to rescue you. Iâll get you out of those, but can you run?â âFinally!â Rowena groaned, âI didnât think theyâd send anyone.â âIâm sorry, but my orders are to leave you right where you are, Lady Rowena.â âLet me out, or Iâll catch up with you and make you pay.â
âIâm going to follow orders,â she said, freeing Vittoria, who immediately stretched out her arms and her back after so many hours bent over in the stocks. âLet me go, too!â Lorraine said. Martina ignored the request and freed her two sisters. "We've been spotted, run!" Carlotta said.
Gretchenâs eyes narrowed. âYou run, get the target to safety. Iâll take care of this!â âBut sister, this place will be swarmed with guards of she can get their attention fast enough,â Carlotta objected. âAt least take my sword!â Martina demanded. But Gretchen was already running to catch the person that had spotted them. The other sisters took Vittoria and made for the gate. âServes you right! I hope they catch all of you!â Rowena shouted.
Gretchen ran with all her might toward the smaller figure, who was running to ring the alarm bell. She was uncertain if she could catch her before it was too late, but it was a risk she was willing to take. As they turned the corner, her quarry screaming for help, she could see a wellhead and bell attached to a porch behind it. A strange choice of location for the villageâs alarm bell, she thought. It looked like her enemy might get to the bell before she could stop her. But then, a miracle happened. The cobblestones with which the village had been so carefully paved, had been torn up around the well from so much traffic, and the soil below was wet. As her opponentâs boots hit the mud, they dug in and tripped her up.
Yvette landed on her back at the very edge of the muddy section, and Gretchen immediately placed a foot on her throat. âYou little bitch. I told you Iâd get you for what you put me through. I told you NO ONE humiliates me!â
Yvette, gasping for air, landed a booted kick on her opponentâs backside, already much abused by the trap she had designed. Gretchen fell to the ground with a thud. It was now anyoneâs fight.
Yvette made it to her feet faster than Gretchen, and grabbed her by the hair, pulling out her pigtails and generally making a mess of it as she fumbled to get a better hold on her. But, filled with rage as she was, Gretchen wasnât going to collapse so easily. After a hard strike to the crotch, she pulled Yvettesâ leg until she slammed down onto her back. Gretchen climbed atop her, and started stripping her. First a boot. Then the other. Then her pants.
Down to her shirt, corset, and panties against her nude opponent, Yvette fought back and climbed to her knees. The two women struggled. One got the upper hand, then the other, as they rolled toward the muddy part of the ground. Gretchen was able to remove Yvetteâs top. But the pin she attempted made her already sore backside a perfect target, and Yvette took advantage with several resounding slaps.
A knee in the crotch here, a leglock there, the two women struggled on the soft earth around the well, getting filthy in the process. Hair was pulled. Flanks were punched. Until finally, Gretchen had the inventor in a painful hold she had studied during her mercenary training. Yvette cried out for help, hoping the townspeople would come rescue her, but no one was coming.
Meanwhile, a battle was raging from the gates to the town square. The Swiss Sisters had knocked out the townswomen guarding the gates while escaping with Vittoria, leaving the gate open. Into this breach, Crimson Horde mercenaries were pouring, and as Captain Maeve had said, they were, on average, more experienced than the soldiers under Rowenaâs command, who, having been stripped and humiliated by the townsfolk, were tied up under guard in the basements of some of the townâs larger houses.
Under Claraâs command, the now-armed townswomen charged to stem the flow and re-take the gates. Pies were thrown, as Yvette had taught them. But they found these opponents better trained than the others. Recovering quickly, they knocked out, stripped, and otherwise defeated the townswomen.
This was Astridâs chance. The heavy-set woman wore a suit of full plate, and wielded a bastard sword, her equipment the closest approximation of Rowenaâs she could afford. Although a mercenary, Astrid idolized the knight. Hearing that she had been captured, she fantasized about wading through the melee, sword drawn, and freeing her.
Only one thing stood in her wayâconstable Clarabelle. As the two amazons clashed, Clarabelle again, and again managed to get the upper hand. Armor straps were cut, plates fell to the ground.
After only a few exchanges, Astrid had lost most of her armor. Astrid was horribly outclassed. As Clarabelle disarmed her opponent, one of the townswomen added insult to injury by hurling a well-aimed pie. Astrid was totally defeated and stood around wiping her face and trying to cover her nudity as the fight continued around her.
Trained, strong, and well-equipped, Clarabelle was holding her own against all comers. But the same couldnât be said for the untrained townswomen, who were losing quickly. But then, the captain entered the square. Immediately, Clara moved to challenge her.
The constable was confident as the action started. She parried several times, but was unable to get past the mercenariesâ defenses. âAre you the best they have to offer? Boooring!â Maeve mocked. Clara tried not to be goaded into exchanging insults with her opponent. The blows they were exchanging were slowly stripping away her armor! First a bracer, then the straps that held her chainmail in place.
Clara was shocked and dismayed as her armor and clothing slowly clattered to the ground or blew away in the breeze. In a short time, she was standing in just her boots and panties. But she kept fighting.
With lightning speed, the Mercenary knocked the sword from her hand, kicked it away, ran behind the shocked constable, and tugged her panties up into her nethers. She pulled until the garments came clean off. Clara let out a small shriek as Maeve smacked her generous backside with the flat of her sword three times, before knocking her out with a blow from the pommel.
Thatâs when she saw her, across the battlefieldâthe green-clad knight. âWell,â said Maeve, âI DO hope YOUâRE a challenge. I wonder how this pathetic town defeated poor Rowena.â âWe defeated her, and will do the same to you!â Helena responded confidently as they faced off.
To Helenaâs surprise, Maeveâs sword handling was the best she had ever seen. Precise microcutsâa strap here, a seam there, and her breastplate and tunic had been removed. âClose your mouth, darling, you look like a fish out of water,â Maeve taunted, as she expertly parried every one of Helenaâs responses. âWell,â Maeve mused, âNothing to see here, from your performance OR your looks. Disappointing, like this whole disgusting little cow-town.â Helenaâs arms were occupied trying to cover herself, when Maeve knocked her out. She nodded to the mercenaries that had been following her at a distance. They picked up Helenaâs unconscious body and piled it on Clarabelleâs. Then, Maeve made her way to the town square and its scaffold.
As she approached Rowena, she smiled. âMy, myâŠI heard about it, but I almost couldnât believe it. Perhaps I should order the milkmaid here to get a bucket and milk you,â she said, gesturing to Lorraine.
âYou bitch, let me out of here!â Rowena spat. âNow, now, is that any way to talk to your savior?â
Maeve walked behind her and smiled. âIâm not sure youâve learned your lesson, yet. Iâll let you go when you are properly contrite.â With that, she started punishing Rowenaâs ample backside with her bare hand. âMy, look at it jiggle!â
The knight usually had a high pain tolerance, but the townspeople had already put her hindquarters through their paces over the time she was in the stocks. Each slap brought out a little whine. âAdmit it!â Maeve said, âYou couldnât hold the city. I win the bet, and Iâm the better warrior.â âNever!â
A few minutes later, Rowena was in tears. She simply wanted it all to stop. âAlright! I admit it. You won, I lost.â âAnd?â âOw! You are the better warrior.â
With that, Maeve opened the stocks and let first Lorraine, then Rowena free. âTroops, get this farmgirl some clothes and send her on her way.â âWhat about my reward? From Vittoria? They took it when they captured me.â âWhat reward?â Maeve said, âNow take the clothes and get out of here, before I change my mind.â
Rubbing her sore behind, Rowena looked at Maeve. âAnything you want to say?â Maeve said, hand on the hilt of her sword. âThank you for rescuing me. May I have my armor now?â
âIâll have a security detail deliver you to the sisters as you are.â âBut you canât! The camp is full of soldiers under my command!â âYou couldnât get the job done, and this town is under my command. It will be as I say.â
A few minutes later, the mercenaries had gathered up those who had provided the greatest resistance. Some were tied and led off to the same basements the mercenaries were freeing Rowenaâs soldiers from, but Clarabelle and Helena were transported to the stocks in the town square, where Maeve could gloat over their defeat.
Maeve was just starting to taunt Clarabelle when a mercenary named Eliana showed up, with a tall, nude brunette prisoner. Helena was disappointed to see that Private Broussard had been defeated. It wasnât long before she was locked in the stocks alongside them. Thatâs when the floggings started. Eliana was smacking Broussardâs backside with the flat of her sword, while Maeve tanned Clarabelleâs hide.
Lady Helena did not escape the punishment, either. It wasnât very long before her backside was red with lines where the flat of Maeveâs sword had slapped against it. She tried her best to keep her composure, and not let her enemy have power over her mindâjust her body.
Unexpectedly, the spankings stopped. Clarabelle lifted her head up to see, as best as she could from her position, what the commotion was. Two mud-covered figures were walking across the square toward them, one with her hands bound behind her back. She sighed in disappointment when she realized that that figure was Yvette. "I have another!" the captor shouted as they mounted the scaffold.
âGretchen!â Maeve said, âYour sisters told me you ran off on your own.â
âDonât be fooled by her size,â Gretchen replied, âThis one is exceptionally nasty. She designed traps that were especiallyâŠum, painful make her hurt the way her traps hurt me, I implore you.â
âThe soldiers told me sheâs the one that started them using the peppered pies to blind them,â one of the mercenaries added. âWe found a cache of those, still unused,â another chimed in. âBring them here!â Eliana ordered, looking to Maeve for confirmation, âI was hit with those and I want revenge.â Maeve nodded in agreement.
Gretchen plastered the first across Yvetteâs face. Maeve did the same to Clarabelle. Then Eliana followed suit with Helena and Private Broussard.
Meanwhile, Rowena sat backward astride a horse for the first time in her life. She gritted her teeth as the motion of the horse agitated her already well-spanked backside. Unsuccessfully she attempted to hold back tears. She could not be seen crying by her troops. She had already thought of escaping. The mercenaries leading her would barely provide a challenge, even nude and unarmed as she was, but the magical sisters would be a different story. There was no escaping them. Sheâd have to face them.
After a few hoursâ travel beyond the river through increasingly mountainous and barren terrain, a landscape that she had led her army through just the other day, they arrived at the encampment. Rocky ground, scores and scores of military tents. The tiny, steep-peaked houses of the village nearby, and the inn, unusually large for such a hamlet, that had been commandeered as the command center.
The soldiers looked up in shock as they saw their commander. She was entirely nude, her hands tied behind her back. While Rowenaâs heft was widely known, and unmistakable, even in armor, the soft, flabby contours of her torso surprised them. Some dried up something or other besmirched her face and hair, and her ample backside was red as an apple. Her eyes were glassy, and the kohl she wore around them ran in streaks down her faceâshe had been crying.
Everyone dropped what they were doing and watched as the mercenaries helped Rowena dismount from the horse, and approached the inn. Her pride hurt, Rowena snarled, âHands off, you mercenary bitch. I could kill you without another thought.â The mercenary, looking down at Rowenaâs tied hands, called her bluff. âDo you think the sisters wouldnât find you?â Rowena bowed her head, resigned. She already knew she had to go through with this, as the mercenary knocked on the inn door. Rowena took a deep breath as she waited for the response.
The tension was palpable as the door creaked open. The army had rarely seen the sisters since they had occupied this camp. And they had rarely seen them in general, as they tended to travel by closed carriage. Some of the soldiers had never caught a glimpse of them.
âWhatâs this?â said Fiona, as she stepped out. Selena followed with a knowing grin on her face. Rowena had been hoping that this meeting would happen indoors, out of the eyes of her troops. The sorceresses, though, seemed to have other ideas. Astrid stepped aside and saluted, as did the nearby troops. Fiona waved to the army, tossed a few coins to the mercenary, and dismissed her. Under normal circumstances, Rowena would have been glad to see any mercenary go. But now the sisters focused their attention on the matter at handâher.
âAh, Rowena. Youâve come back to us. And your troops, who love you so much,â Fiona said in a sarcastic tone. Selena smiled at her, then waved her hand and chanted under her breath. The ropes tying Rowenaâs wrists instantly fell to a loose pile on the ground, allowing her to move her sore shoulders into a natural position for the first time in hours. Rowena started to speak, but Fiona interrupted her before she could even get an entire syllable out of her mouth. âRemember when you were last at this inn? I said I had something for the loser of the contest, that winning was preferable? Well. Here you are.â
Selena took over before Fiona presented a monologue. âYou said you could win with troops. And you did. But the deal was to hold the village for a day. You couldnât hold that puny little village with its pathetic, dumpy, pastry-fattened townsfolk. What kind of precedent do you think that sets?â
âButââ Rowena started to defend herself. âThat was a rhetorical question,â Selena interrupted, âmeaning it needs no answer from you. It sets a very bad precedent. Whatâs more, you got our patroness, Duchess Vittoria captured and tortured.â
âIt was a hard spanking, Iâll admit, but hardly tort-â âSTOP,â Fiona growled, âyou arenât making your case any better. Weâll know soon if Maeve was able to do what you couldnât. At dawn, weâre moving the entire army to Dacqoise.â A cheer went up from the nearby army, and spread through those that were too far away to hear as the news was passed back. The assault was starting, and the first conquest ensured good food for the rest of the campaign. Rowena looked at them. She wanted to cheer with them. But she couldnât. She bit her lip and waited to learn her fate.
âYou will armor up, and travel with the army,â Selena said. Rowena nearly breathed a sigh of relief. âBUT,â Fiona added, âAnd thatâs one BIG BUTT,â she continued, getting a chorus of hearty guffaws from the army assembled behind Rowena, whose view allowed them to appreciate the joke, âWe need to do something about your failure first, but what?â
âWhy, sister, I think you just answered your own question!â Selena said, instantly producing a wand as if from thin air. With a wave, Rowena started to levitate. She writhed about, but there was nothing she could do to fight it. Selena smiled as she muttered some chant that forced the knightâs arms up over her head, and caused her to spin around slowly and continuously, showing her front and then her back alternately to the assembled soldiers.
âI see where youâre going with this, and I like it,â Fiona mused. âWould you like to do the honors, then?â Selena asked chummily. âBut of course!â With a chant, and the wave of her wand, blue lightning started to form in her other hand. She pointed her palm at Rowena, and, instantly, bolts of electricity engulfed the still-levitating knightâs voluptuous backside. Rowena screamed as the sparks tortured her already-sore posterior. The army watched their disgraced commander jiggling with each shock, her hair rising up and becoming messy, her cheeks as red as could be.
âGood show,â said a smiling Selena, âquite a nice job you did with your tiny little wand there. I, myself, prefer something with a little more heft and girth,â she said, waving her notably longer and thicker wand. Fiona glared angrily at her as she waved it and cast a spell.
Rowena was becoming concerned, as she hadnât felt the effects of the new spell, even though the magical lightning lingered, causing her the occasional shock. But Fiona could see a paddle appearing in the air, right behind the warrior woman.
Suspended in the air with her arms magically pulled up over her head, there was little Rowena could do but take the paddling. The magical paddle moved at Selenaâs will, punishing both cheeks. âLook at that flab jiggle!â Fiona said, as loudly as possible. âI bet you didnât know she looked like that under all that armorâ Selena said to the surrounding soldiers. âDarathea?â Fiona called, âCapture this moment.â Darathea was the expedition artist, and also helped with planning siege machinery. She was as skilled as drafting and painting as she was at engineering. But as soon as Fiona commanded her, she had her sketchbook out. She could immortalize this moment with a painting if the sisters desired it. This possibility, of course, was a psychological punishment being added to Rowenaâs physical punishment.
Rowena closed her eyes and tried in vain to imagine she was somewhere else. But each jeer, each smack of the paddle, brought her right back to reality. In her mind, the paddling seemed to last forever. But in reality, it lasted just under an hour. By that point, the soldiers, who had been amused at first, were starting to feel very uncomfortable. This, of course, is what the sorcerous sisters wantedâto make Rowena an example and a warning about the price of failure in their army. Then, Selena willed her levitation to stop, dropping the sore knight face down in the dirt. As she climbed to her hands and knees, she saw her soldiers mocking her. She would never enjoy the same respect from those troops again.
âRest well, troops!â Fiona ordered, âTomorrow we march!â She opened the door to the inn and turned back. âMake certain that the commanderâs army is ready. Tomorrow will be a big day. But send her to us before letting her dress for the occasion. With that, the sisters went back into their headquarters.
The next day, the sisters marched for Dacqoise with their large army, Rowena on horseback leading the column. Rowena had been comfortable on horseback since the first time she had mounted one. Her trip back to headquarters from Dacqoise had been the only time she was ever uncomfortable sitting on a steed, until now. Unbeknownst to her army, Vittoria had offered her own revenge for getting her captured in the village. Rowena, still nude, had reported to headquarters in the morning, where she was offered her armor and a clean set of undergarments. The sistersâ servants even acted as squires to help her don her armor. But before doing so, they had filled the back of the panties with thorns and nettles. With her armor on, Rowena couldnât get them out, and was forced to sit on the needley plants the entire ride to Dacqoise. After the spankings she had taken at the hands of the villagers, the magical shocks and paddling she had received from the sisters, Vittoriaâs punishment added injury to insult. And it dragged out every moment she was mounted.
Having arrived at Dacqoise, they found the gates open and a welcoming party of Maeveâs mercenaries, who led the soldiers to supplies and reunited them with the units that had been captured while under Rowenaâs command. Another mercenary led Rowena, the sisters, and Vittoria to the town square.
For the first time, the sorcerous sisters witnessed Dacqoise, and its town square, with its scaffold of pillories, currently hosting Helena, Private Broussard, Clarabelle, and Yvette. âYour highnesses!â Maeve said, bowing, âItâs good to see you. And Duchess Vittoria, thank you for coming. And Rowena, you couldnât stay away, could you? You missed our little fun when we last met here?â
Rowena blushed at the suggestion.
âSo, tell me who this lot is,â Fiona said.
âThis one,â Maeve said, pointing to Broussard, âis an archer from the capitalâŠone of three who arrived and overthrew your vaunted commander, but I was able to bring them to heel.â
âThe redhead here, is a knight from the capital, apparently. She was able to best Rowena, but not me.â
âShe had help!â Rowena objected. âShe did,â Maeve responded, âbut I was able to beat her anyway. Perhaps because Iâm a proper warrior, not some porker squeezed into body-flattering armor.â
âAnd that brings us to this muddy little mouse over here. Sheâs local, apparently an eccentric. Want to explain to their majesties how you defeated Rowena and her army?â Yvette was silent. âThey need to hear this, so their army doesnât lose that way again.â Yvette stayed silent. Rowena blushed even more. Maeve walked around behind Yvette and gave her a hard slap on her mud-caked backside. She still didnât talk. âPies,â Maeve said, giggling. âYes, you heard right, pies.â
âAnd bees!â Vittoria added. Maeve reigned in her laughter for a moment so not to cause offense to a monetary benefactor.
âIs this true?â Selena said. âWas my commander defeated by pies? Did you eat poison or something?â
Rowena blushed even more, âNo, itâŠâ
Frustrated by the incorrect assumption, and relishing a chance to humiliate one of her enemies even from the stocks, Yvette chose this time to speak up. âI smashed pies in their faces. I covered the pies in pepper first to make their eyes water. Between that and launching honey and beehives with my mini catapult, we took down the whole damn army!â
Selena laughed out loud for a moment. Fiona nearly joined in, before giving her a serious look. âWell, Rowena, itâs a good thing we punished you for your failure before this hilarious detail came to light. It might have been even more severe, and no doubt more humiliating.â
Fiona frowned, âSo who is this last one?â âOh, thatâs their local guard captain.â âConstable ,â said Clara. âRight, such a pig sty of a village doesnât have a âguard captainâ,â Maeve corrected, âbut get thisâŠher name is Clarabelle. A fitting name for a cow, now? Perhaps we should milk her! And such a cute little bow.â Clara seethed silently at their mockery.
âWho is the erstwhile ruler of this motley crew?â Selena asked. âOh, they have a magistrate. My mercs were given orders to locate her and give her an attitude adjustment. But then, my crew probably has adjusted the entire townâs attitude.â
âThese simple townsfolk had the nerve to rise up against OUR army? Bring them before us, and we will put them through hell. Weâll torture them in ways they can barely imagine, right, Rowena?â Fiona smiled.
âYes, Rowena, âbarelyâ,â Selena pointed out.
Fiona grinned at Rowenaâs obvious discomfort. Then, she pointed to the stocks behind her. âWell, Iâve given these four, who I consider the least harmless in the town, a thorough working over. But, if it suits the fancies of your majesties to have a go at them, too, be my guest.â
âBring out the citizens from their shelters. I want them all to see what happens when you oppose the Foxglove sisters!â Fiona said, a spark flying between her fingers.
âCaptain! Captain!â A well-armored mercenary ran into the square and jumped onto the scaffold, almost out of breath from the exertion of running or shouting, or both. When she met Maeveâs gaze, the captain wordlessly nodded to the group of women standing in front of her. âYour majesties!â the mercenary responded, with a curtsey.
âWhat is the meaning of this?â Selena said, âdonât you have citizens to round up, or a watch to keep?â
The mercenary looked crestfallen. âThatâs just it, you majesty. I was watching from the tower, and I saw a dust cloud. Any soldier who has seen great battles knows what that means. But I didnât want to give a false alarm. An army is coming, from the direction of the capital. A huge army!â
Vittoria looked surprised. âSo the queen has decided to move against us. I didnât think she had it in her.â
âHow long until they arrive?â Maeve asked the mercenary.
âNot long, captain. Maybe an hour at best.â
âDo you think the modest walls of this village will hold?â Maeve said, turning to the sisters.
âLet her come, we will deal with her as we have dealt with all the others who opposed us,â Selena said, proudly.
âLetâs get the prisoners back inside, or at least stop bringing the townsfolk outsideâthey may join and help from inside the walls,â Maeve suggested.
âYouâll do no such thing!â Selena said, angrily. Fiona nodded, âWe want them here to see what happens when their queen attacks or tries to parley when she knows sheâs outmatched.
In what seemed like very little time, the approaching army arrived and surrounded the walls. The banners were not those of the Kingdom of Plouffe, causing some confusion among the ranks inside the town. A bugle sounded, a clear call for a parley.
âWell, there you have it, the parleyâ Fiona said to Selena, âHow long until she surrenders? She knows we have plenty of reinforcements coming.â Selena nodded, then gave orders to Rowena, âI want her to see the town, my army, and the assembled townspeople. I want her to see the knight she sent in the pillory. Open the front gates and let her in, with a light guard escort so she feels comfortable and takes it all in. If she doesnât surrender, sheâll be in these stocks by the end of the day. Go, open the gates immediately!â
âNone of that will be necessary,â said a commanding voice as two women stepped through a round portal that distorted space around it. The speaker was a striking woman in a black dress trimmed with red, her green eyes shining from behind flowing crimson hair. Next to her was a solidly-built woman in white, her blonde hair fashioned into a long braid.
Rowena and Maeve were shocked, and gripped their swords, ready to spring into action if given the order. The crowd of townspeople*, and the soldiers who had ushered them into the square all seemed uncertain what to think. Vittoria just seemed surprised. Selena seemed as much concerned as surprised, and even Fiona seemed to be struggling to maintain her usual swagger.
(* Not pictured)
âMariana!â Selena gasped. The redheaded sorceress smiled. âWell, you two are lookingâŠbetter than when you were tossed out of the Tower of Arcana and into the swamps of the Misty Isles.â âWhy are you here?â Fiona asked, trying to seem indignant through her fear.
âThatâs not a very nice way to greet an old acquaintance, now, is it?â Mariana responded. âBut Iâll tell you. I conquered Plouffe, and Iâm planning something MUCH bigger. I heard that you had invaded this little cow pasture, but I didnât believe it. I suppose you two always did like your sweets, although it used to show more.â
Now it was Fiona and Selenaâs turn to blush. Their retinue watched in silence. Trying to keep her composure, Fiona said, âWait, WE were going to conquer Plouffe. But perhaps we can reach a compromise.â
âSorceresses donât negotiate with failed apprentices any more than ravens treat with mice.â
Selena put a restraining hand on Fionaâs shoulder, but the angry mage shook it off as she stepped forward. âNow you listen--â
âIâve had enough of this dreadfully boring conversation. Iâll deal with you two later.â Mariana made a few gestures with her hands, and Selena and Fiona found themselves paralyzed. They could see and hear, but they couldnât move and could almost speak, although only muffled noises came out, as if they were gagged. Almost immediately, they levitated up above everyone else, frozen in a position with their arms out and their legs slightly spread.
Rowenaâs knuckles went white on her blade. She had to make a choice. If this sorceress was so powerful compared to her previous lieges, should she challenge her? If the sisters got free, theyâd be sure to punish her, but if she attacked this Mariana, things could actually go worse. She decided to wait and see what happened. Maeve had no loyalties in this situation, so her inaction was calculated with much less hesitation.
Vittoria, a merchant noble, never passed up an opportunity when one presented itself. âIt is a pleasure to meet you, Sorceress-queen. I am Duchess Vittoria Romoli. I have been funding the sistersâ expedition, but your mention of something more grand intrigues me.â
Mariana smiled, âAn opportunist with gold. Perhaps you can be a part of my plans. Meet me in my new headquarters, my soldiers will show you the way. We shall speak later. For now, introduce me to all of the people up here I donât know. Start with the ones in the stocks. Let them out.â
Maeve hesitated, but Mariana was having none of it. âYou! Let them out and tell me what they are in there for.â âThis oneâs an archer, she helped the denizens of this little cow pasture to defeat the conquering army, along with this knight here,â Maeve said as she was opening the stocks. âThe eccentric waif over here is an inventor that was part of the plot, and the cow here heads up the local guard.
âArcher, knight! Whereâs your army?â Mariana asked. Helena gestured to the townspeople lining the square. âThese people liberated themselves, with just a little help from us.â
Mariana looked at the villagers. âI find it hard to believe that these bumpkins could have defeated trained soldiers. Tell me more.â The crowd grumbled in anger, but after Marianaâs display of power against the two well-known sorceresses, no one openly challenged her.
âHelena here provided the strategy. I led some of the teams that took down the army, and Yvette hereâŠâ
âMy traps and inventions maximized our assets to liberate the town,â Yvette said, proudly.
Mariana smiled, âWell, judging by the position I found you in, it was all for naught.â
âThen my band of mercenaries arrived, took the town easily, and freed the soldiers and their previous commander from these stocks right here!â Maeve said.
âI didnât address you, yet, sell-sword,â Mariana responded. âI am impressed that the four of you rallied this riffraff to take on a trained army. I offer you positions on the expedition I am planning. There will be fortune, glory, power, and fame. Accept my terms, and my envoys outside the walls will give you a bath and get you clothing and gear that suits your abilities.â
Broussard saluted, which looked odd in her nude state. Helena also made a gesture of fealty. Clarabelle frowned. âThis town needs me now, as much as ever. I am going to have to stay.â Yvette shyly spoke up. âIâm not leaving. My workshop is here.â
Mariana opened a portal to her headquarters and sent Helena and Broussard along for that bath and equipment. She nodded to Clarabelle and Yvette, who scampered away into the town to find something to wear.
âWhat about me? I reconquered the town!â Maeve said.
âI still hadnât addressed you. But we will deal with you now. You think you are an excellent warrior?â
âIâm a veteran of many battles. I always win. You should hire me to command your forces.â Maeve said, with confidence.
âAre you willing to challenge my knight commander here to demonstrate your prowess?â
Maeve drew here sword and waved it around. âIâll challenge anyone and will handily beat that ungainly heifer.â
Mariana grinned. âOphelia? Do you care to show her the error of her ways?â
Ophelia drew her sword and stepped forward.
The two women squared off, each cautious of their opponent, trying different guards and feigning attacks to determine how their opponent responded. Maeve was surprised at how well the larger woman dodged and parried her attacks. Then, suddenly, with a few judicious strikes, Ophelia cut the surcoat from her opponent. Concerned, Maeve stopped attacking and started to fight defensively. Someone who could cut her very clothes from her body with such ease could just as easily run her through! But perhaps her opponent had just gotten lucky.
But just as Maeve attributed Opheliaâs success to luck, SLASHSLASHCUTSLASH! Maeveâs gambeson was split to ribbons, and blew away in the wind, leaving her topless. She couldnât believe the wind on her nipples and had to look down to confirm what Ophelia had just done. The mercenary was regretting agreeing to this challenge, but perhaps she could get the better of Ophelia yet.
She began to lunge, then pulled back into a parry, but it was too late. The expert swordswoman with the long braid hat cut her greaves from her, leaving her in nothing but her boots. As the breeze blew over her red-haired pubic mound as it blows blades of grass, she stared for a moment in disbelief, not even bothering to hold her weapon defensively. This gave Ophelia the perfect opportunity to disarm her.
âI yield, I yield!â the humiliated mercenary captain shouted. But Ophelia had no plans to let her off so easy after being called an ungainly heifer. As Maeve turned tail, Ophelia ran right behind her, chastising her exposed backside with the flat of her sword, much to the amusement of the spectating crowd. The faster she ran, the harder Ophelia hit her, until her backside was practically glowing red. Realizing that escape was futile, she collapsed to her knees and curled up in a defensive ball on the ground.
Marianaâs troops picked the thoroughly-beaten mercenary and dragged her to the stocks. She barely put up any resistance as the locked her in the pillory where she had her enemies only a short time ago. Rowena looked up at her with a smile. âCouldnât resist trying them, hmmm?â she mocked.
âMaybe that will teach you a thing or two about speaking up to your betters,â Mariana grinned. âYou, knight in black, what do you have to say, do you think you could do better?â Rowena held her sword behind her head and stretched, âIâd like the chance.â
Ophelia approached her, now extremely confident after having so easily bested the mercenary. Clearly these warriors were beneath her. She raised her blade and charged. Reprising her strategy from humiliating the redhead with the rude mouth, she cut away her opponentâs surcoat. This left Rowenaâs black stockings partially exposed, but, as she was wearing plate armor, she was still relatively covered up. Ophelia planned to change that as soon as possible.
To her surprise, Ophelia missed a parry. She heard a âclankâ and her armored belt fell to the ground. She could hardly believe that this black knight was stripping her, even of such an insignificant clothing item. She lashed out and tore Rowenaâs gauntlets from her, one at a time, to show the superiority of her technique. The difference was that Rowena had watched Ophelia fight, and wasnât expecting this to be easy, so she wasnât as shaken as Ophelia losing her belt.
Ophelia, overconfident, failed to sidestep Rowenaâs attack in time, and her dress paid the price. She was reduced to her bra, corset, panties and boots. This couldnât be happening! There was no way this knight could defeat her!
âNot so confident now, are you?â Rowena taunted.
Ophelia was fuming. She had to get revenge! With a furious flurry of strikes, she managed to sever the straps of Rowenaâs breastplate, revealing her studded leather corset. âKinky,â Ophelia teased, âI hope youâre a masochist, because Iâm going to kick your ass!â
Rowena didnât have time for a comebackâOphelia had robbed her of her tights, and knocked her to her knees with a series of powerful overhead attacks. Then, ever so deftly, she slipped the twin blade of her sword between Rowenaâs shoulder and her bra straps, causing her pale breasts to fall out.
Rowena blushed, and instinctively reached one arm across her chest to cover herself.
âThose are some floppy excuses for breasts, compared to THESE perky mountains!â Ophelia said, as she threw her shoulders back to demonstrate. Rowena was dumbstruck, not so much by Opheliaâs display as the momentary realization of how exposed she was.
âFinish her!â came a call from Marianna. Rowenaâs other hand flew back to her sword hilt, but not in time.
Ophelia had maneuvered her blade under the parry, and was dragging its tip down the front of the corset, tearing into the overstuffed garment.
Rowenaâs belly burst proudly out of the prison that had been restraining it. She looked down at her utter exposure. Her panties were the last vestige of modesty, and, sagging from sweat and filled with thistles, even they were her enemy right now.
âWait, turn around again,â Ophelia taunted, noticing, âyouâre all scratched up. Wait. Are those nettles in your underwear? Is that why theyâre sagging like that? I didnât even do that to you. Who has been bullying you, oh, brave and potent knight?â
Rowena had suffered enough. She took a huge, rage-fueled swing at her opponent. Ophelia dropped to her knees for the parry, as she had made Rowena before. But Rowena had the force of so much hostility that she shattered Opheliaâs blade.
The white knight watched in horror as the pieces went flying. She dropped the hilt of the broken blade and did the first thing that came to her mindâshe ran.
Rowena gave chase, swinging her long sword at the unarmed womanâs remaining clothing. Most swings proved to be too far to touch, but one auspicious slice caught the laces of Opheliaâs girdle.
The sides of the distended fabric whipped outward as Opheliaâs ample belly escaped its bone-stiffened linen prison. Ophelia nearly tripped over her own feet in embarrassment as her various bulges and soft spots threw off their shackles and expanded into the clear light of day, as the open corset slid down the front of her body.
With so much of her free and jiggling, Opheliaâs run slowed down. This enabled the spectators to follow her, but also enabled Rowena to catch up enough to apply several spanks on the ample behind in front of her with the flat of her blade. Rowena smiled, knowing she had conquered this vaunted opponent. Of course she would win. She reminded herself of her favorite confidence booster, âthe black knight always triumphs.â
The spectators followed, the hilarious parade led by a supposedly formidable knight, stripped to her boots and underwear, her soft body jiggling as she jogged away from her tormentorâanother formidable knight, still wearing a bra and corset more than her foe, and taking glee in spanking the white-pantied backside with the flat of her black sword.
Reacting to the slaps, Ophelia let out a pathetic little squeal as she tried to keep ahead of Rowena, who was enjoying punishing her defeated opponent, and didnât want to catch her until this parade of spanks was over. Ophelia ran right out the town gate, and toward the river.
Then, for reasons obscure to all but her, she completely ignored the bridge and tried to wade across the stream. While it wasnât deep, and seemed clear, it was only a few steps before the silt at the bottom swallowed up her boots. Rowena regretted going after her, as the same thing happened to her.
The spectators, meanwhile, who had been following at a leisurely pace, simply walked over the bridge and caught up with the two combatants as Ophelia removed her white leather boots to continue her escape.
Ophelia continued up onto the grass, headed toward a farm. Well, maybe not so much to the farm, as away from Rowena, who still occasionally got close enough to land a slap on her flank with the flat of her epic, two-handed blade. Ophelia succeeded at increasing the distance, hoping to get some relief. Thatâs when Rowena saw a new opportunity. She snagged the waist of her Opponentâs white panties and hoisted.
âLet me go!â Ophelia whined, to the amusement of the many spectators that had followed the two across the river, sensibly using the bridge instead of wading through the stream.
With one forceful tug of the swordâs hilt, Opheliaâs last stitch of clothing ripped under pressure, leaving her completely nude. The reddened indentation of her girdle and its boning striped her fat belly, as if to measure it and proclaim its girth.
The white knight was fuming and embarrassed in equal measure. She had already retreated. There was no way she was going to let this raven-haired bitch defeat her! But before she could act, Rowena started an overhead attack, she hoped to knock her out with the flat of the blade, as this wasnât intended to be lethal combat.
Ophelia dodged to the side, leaving the blade to get lodged in a fencepost behind her. The force of the swing dropped Rowena to her knees. Ophelia saw her opportunity, and pounced into action, straddling her fallen foe, and returning the favor of pulling her panties sharply into her nethers. With her other hand, she smacked her opponentâs bouncing buttocks.
Taking out her rage for all the humiliations and slaps with the flat of the sword, Ophelia poured her anger into each spank, and it was enough to bring Rowena to tears. âYield!â
âIâŠ.I will not!â Rowna replied. âSo be it!â Ophelia laughed, pulling so hard on the panties that they tore clean off, brutalizing poor Rowenaâs backside and womanhood as they did.
Rowena looked desperately around for something to help her situation. Thatâs when she noticed the position of the hilt of her sword, firmly embedded in the wooden fencepost. Then, she bucked as hard as she could, putting her head and shoulders down. Ophelia screamed in agony as she slid down her opponent and the hilt made contact right between her cheeks.
Ophelia screamed in pain at the intrusion, but it wasnât enough to knock her off of Rowena. So Rowena bucked and bucked, until Ophelia grabbed onto what was left of the raven-haired beautyâs corset to try to pull herself up her back, away from the offending hilt.
This was too much for the already-stretched fabric of the corset, and with a loud tear, Ophelia had made Rowena every bit as nude as she was!
Rowena rolled away, and got to her feet. Ophelia, too, got to her feet, but slower. Her belly and breasts were now hanging looseâagain! This was too much to take. She blushed and tried to cover up.
âWow, look at that cow!â someone shouted from the crowd. Both girls blushed, uncertain to whom the comment referred.
Stripped of her weapons and clothing, Rowena resorted to the use of her fists. While Ophelia fought back, Rowena definitely landed more blows, including a gut punch so solid, Ophelia was sent backward, her feet even lifting off the ground slightly. Confident with her success, she threw all her weight into one powerful finishing punch. But Ophelia recovered unexpectedly quickly, and dodged.
As she missed, her momentum threw her past Ophelia. Ophelia tripped her as she passed, and shoved her elbow into the black knightâs backside, making sure she tumbled over the low fence behind her target.
Rowena landed in the mud with a splat, one of her feet still caught on the fence. A pig, uncomfortably close to her face, squealed at this intrusion. Ophelia cheered, âHa, right in the mud with the pigs where you belong!â Judging by the laughs and comments from the crowd, they seemed to agree.
Kicking over the fence, Ophelia continued to taunt her. "Look at this fat butt, no wonder you look so at home in there. Yield, or I'll have bacon for breakfast...and these pigs will remain unharmed."
Rowena, her feelings clearly hurt, jumped to her feet and charged to the fence to confront Ophelia. The blonde tried to punch her, but instead, Rowena blocked and pulled her forward by her arm. âYouâre not fooling anyone, they can see clearly ever since your girdle came off. Youâre fatter than I am. If Iâm a pig, you must be a cow.â She was panting and clearly desperate to produce a witty comeback, but instead, that was all she could muster.
Shifting her weight, Rowena hurled the white knight into the pigpen. As Ophelia picked her face out of what she hoped was mud, Rowena taunted, âWhoâs the pig now?â âYou both are!â came some voice from the crowd. âThatâs an insult to those poor pigs!â another anonymous voice shouted.
Rowena threw another punch as Ophelia tried to climb to her feet, but instead, she caught her armâŠ
and, standing up, leveraged her to the ground with it. But as she tried to pin Rowena in the muck, she was caught by surprise with a headscissors hold. Soon, Rowena had the upper hand, and was holding her down and hitting her with powerful punches.
But fortune is fickle in combat. Ophelia landed a very solid punch to her opponentâs jaw, stunning her. Soon, she had a hold of Rowenaâs arm, pinned her other arm with her leg, sat her backside right down on Rowenaâs face, and used her free hand to deliver occasional slaps to her breasts and belly.
âKiss me!â Ophelia demanded, as she bucked against Rowenaâs face. âMmmph! N-no!â was all Rowena could manage as a reply, and even these puffs of air sent shivers down Opheliaâs spine.
âI wonât take no for an answer!â Ophelia declared, hoping to force Rowena to talk, breathe, or otherwise move her lips. âNmmmphâŠno!â Rowena didnât want to admit defeat, but giving into this haughty cowâs demands would be too humiliating. She had to end this. Unfortunately, her arms were immobilized, she could barely breathe, and her legs were too far away to easily kick at Ophelia.
âArm weee---eld.â âWhat did you say?â âImf semf I yee-eldâ âOh, I like that. Say it again, â Ophelia giggled, wiggling on her opponentâs face.
âImmf Yeeeeeeld. Yield. I yield!â
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(That's where we are right now. More to come soon!)