ADVENTURES ON HOR 9:  EXECUTE

CHAPTER 9: EXECUTE

“Father, you’re sure he’s going to show?” Bartle and his two sons were astride their a****ls overlooking the open valley just below.

The second son sounded as concerned as the first, “He’s a mercenary and assassin, can he really be trusted?”

Bartle scanned the opposite side of the valley with a small telescope. Each of his sons also had one, though they were now intent on him.

“I have known Goran long enough to know who the man really is. Yes, I trust him. Don’t forget he was the one who came to us with Santini’s planned attack. He’s the one who manipulated Santini to cross into our territory at this exact location. Now, look … look across the valley. Santini’s army!”

“Father, he promised an army to overwhelm Santini’s. Where is it?”

“Goran will be here. And, not to quibble but he promised a force, not an army. I don’t know why I think that is significant, but I think it is. Now, please, focus. The trench is ready?”

“Yes, father. The trench is ready.”

Bartle aims his glass below. The trench is a scar on the ground near them on the valley floor. On the other side his men are aligned five deep facing the other side. Shifting his gaze across the valley between heavy forested slopes on either side, he finds Santini’s combined army. This is a mass of men including his standard army and mercenaries. The men assembled on the opposite side are at least 3 times more. It would be a massacre and more so if Goran had not betrayed the man when he took the job to kill Bartle so the assignment wouldn’t be given to another. The leadership chaos might have allowed Santini to simply walk in and take over. As it is, it might be inevitable unless Goran comes through with his surprise force. Although he was trying to calm his sons, in the face of these odds, he was experiencing his own doubts.

“Over there … I see a flash from the sun.”

All three of them point their glass in the direction indicated. Up the hill to the left of Santini’s forces and slightly behind him they find repeated flashes from a sword being held up and rotated. Goran said he would have a hard-charging force positioned on the flank. The signal would be waving his sword in the sunlight. At this point, he seemed to only be identifying his presence. Bartle could see the man, caped with a hood covering his head, the signature leather pants astride his dark-colored borsin, the only a****l of its kind anyone else had ever seen. Even from that distance, he could see the quiet confidence of the man but Bartle couldn’t see the force promised.

Then, he heard the other son, “If that is him … who is that?” He was pointing at the opposite side of the valley. All three had their glass shifted to the other side. In relatively the same position but on the opposite side, they saw the same figure: caped with a hood covering the head, the signature leather pants astride a dark-colored borsin, an identical a****l to the one only Goran had been seen with. That figure was also signaling by rotating the sword. Again, Bartle couldn’t see a waiting force to be engaged, but whoever that was, they were signaling to each other and Bartle that they were in position. Bartle smiled. Then, as they watched, first one, then both of the “Gorans” began waving their swords in the sunlight. The signal.

Bartle reacted. “The signal. Signal our men.” The sons raised and waved the green flags they had been holding in their laps. Commanders at the front of the rows were watching and instantly called out the orders. The men began a controlled reverse march as if retreating from the field. As the men at the rear reached the dug trench, they turned and leapt across. Each line of men followed suit until they were all across the trench, then turned back to face the opposing army.

On the other side of the valley, the move has the appearance of a smaller army suddenly in doubt about facing the impossible odds before them. The commanders laugh among themselves. This will be as easy and glorious as Santini had promised. Throwing caution to the wind, they send their army into full charge across the exposed valley to bring this conflict to a quick end.

Bartle smiles, again. This should be a terrifying sight. They are severely outnumbered and the charge before them has a devastating appearance, but he has instructed his entire force on the plans laid out by Goran. He shifts his vision to his own men and is pleased. Instead of panic, he sees calm trust in the plan. As the last of his men leap across the trench dug only days ago, he gives the next order. Archers dip their prepared arrows into torches held before them and in unison release their flames into the trench. Arrows fly through the air up and down the field of battle separated by about 10 yards. The trench, filled with green wood over dried kindling and grasses, ignites into flame and quickly billowing smoke rises in front of his men. They can hear the charge slow and stop as the flames and smoke rise into the air.

On the other side, the opposing commanders laugh at the feeble effort they see. They have watched as the other line of men jumped over the trench. It is only a matter of a short time before the fire burns out enough for the charge to resume. They give new orders and watch as their army masses on the field reading a new charge. As they wait, they order small probing assaults through the flames but they are easily beaten back as they jump through the smoke into the waiting spears, swords, and arrows of the opposition.

One of the commanders, a younger leader of a mercenary group hired for this assault, expresses his concern. Sending their entire force onto the field and massed as they are, stopped by the flames, is an unnecessary exposure. Santini’s commanders discount the younger leader as too conservative. They are going to crush the inferior army standing in the way of taking over this new region for Santini. They will be richly rewarded for success and they desire to get it over with.

All focus is on the line of fire and smoke separating the two forces. Attention is so focused, in fact, that men on both sides of the fire curiously look into the bright sunlight in search of the approaching storm clouds that are producing the thunder suddenly engulfing them. The men on Bartle’s side find no satisfaction as their view of the field is obliterated by smoke. The men on the other side, however, suddenly realize the thundering noise is not from above. The ground underneath them vibrates and shakes as the sound clearly comes from the sides.

The Santini commanders watch startled at the unfolding event before them. One commander mutters a single word, “Goran”, at the sight of the man who was supposed to have assassinated the leader of the opposing army riding his massive b**st out of the forest from the right. His signature hooded cape is flapping in the air behind him, but the real cause of the thunderous sound is not a single a****l, despite its size, but the herd of similar b**sts charging in mass behind him. The number of huge a****ls is too numerous to attempt to estimate and they are headed directly for the assembled army stopped by the flames. As they watch, the men begin to recognize their danger, some freeze in place, others retreat hastily away from the fire line. That is when the horror becomes magnified. From the left end of the field comes another thunderous herd of the same a****ls led by another hooded, caped ‘Goran’ riding the same b**st ahead of a mass of destruction. The two charging herds pass each other by a mere 20 yards.

The thunderous sound of massive hooves pounding and ripping the ground is pierced by the screams and cries of men with nowhere to go. Some men attempt to leap the fire even while it is in full blaze. The clothing of most of those catch fire but they are met by ready lances, swords, and arrows. The ones who find themselves still standing between the passing herds look around in search of the best route for retreat only to be stunned. Through the fog of dust raised into the air by the pounding herds that ripped the ground and everything else in its path, they catch glimpses of the two herds making big loops at the ends of the field and returning, this time covering more of what was supposed to be the field of battle but suddenly turned into a field of massacre.

Bartle, his sons, and men are still confused by what has happened. The cries and shrieks escaping through the mix of smoke and dust amid the earth-shaking thunder has unsettled even the men not threatened. The trench fire soon burns out and the dust fog hanging over the field before them soon dissipates with the light breeze and the settling of the heavier dirt particles raised by the stampede. What becomes evident as the view clears causes a stillness among the men. What is left of a devastating army is nearly nothing but broken men on a field of pulverized ground. Milling across the field is an, until this moment, a never seen herd of massive b**sts and standing in the middle of it all are two riders of those b**sts in identical garb of hooded capes, their weapons not even drawn.

Bartle rides through his men and leaps the smoldering trench and stops before the two riders, his sons alongside him, and his men following. Goran and Cat push their hood back revealing their faces and raise their arms into the sky. Bartle’s men see the salute from the two who have saved them from an unwinnable battle and respond with cheers and clanging metal on metal. With their arms raised, the two riders are seen for who they really are. Both are bare chested. One, obviously is Goran, the assassin. The other is the surprise, his beautiful slave.

As the cheers subside, Bartle gives the order for the men to roundup stragglers from the opposing army. He then turns to Goran but his eyes are on Cat, “I had a feeling your slave was more than she seemed.”

Goran smiles as he looks over to Cat, “As I have warned you, Bartle, never assume too much about anyone.” But then he turns serious. “The commanders left the field before the end.” Without bothering to make his next words sound like a suggestion, “Cat and I are going to put an end to Santini once and for all. Assemble part of your men and follow us to his city and compound. His remaining forces should be disheartened by the defeat.”

“What are you two going to do?”

Cat answered with a look to Goran, “We are going to confront Santini and his commanders directly.” With that they turned and thundered off the field.

* * *

Santini was ranting at his commanders in his great hall. His excitement and anger had him out of his throne-like chair and throwing a fit before them. He ranted about incompetence, about stealing his glory, about betrayal.

Goran stood in the shadows listening to the ranting of the madman and wondering how the commanders, men who face danger and death, could tolerate it. He did understand, though. Money. Santini was the man with the money and, therefore, the power. Ultimately, the ending became very simple. Take away the source of the money and take away any reason to resist. He stepped out from the shadows into the view of Santini as he ranted.

The rant stopped abruptly as he spotted the hooded and cloaked figure emerging from the shadows at the front of the towering room. He pointed with his figure over the shoulders of his commanders. “You! Traitor! So, this is all your doing! I paid you to assist me, not hurt me. Do you have no honor? I thought the great Goran was all about his honor!”

The four commanders turned and drew their swords. Goran laughed at it all. Yes, I suppose it is all my doing, but my honor is safe, I think. I honor my friends, not you.” Goran looked at the commanders then. “Your commanders did their job. On a normal day, the battle would have been theirs. In the end, this is all on you, Santini. For riches and power, you would have destroyed a good man and all the good he has done in his realm. You needed to be stopped. It ends tonight.”

Santini laughed, “The only thing ending tonight is you, assassin. No doubt you are a great warrior, maybe the best on all of HOR, but are you better than five swords? Is even the great Goran that good?”

“He doesn’t have to be. Not this night.” The voice came from behind them and they all turned away from Goran to confront it. There they found another hooded and caped figure standing motionless. Cat raised her right hand through the gap of the cape and pulled the tie holding it together. She shrugged her shoulders and the cape fell to the floor. As it did, her left hand holding her bow with an arrowed already notched rose. She was bare chested in the manner that Goran was often found.

“You …” Santini looked bewildered. “You’re a slave. You were used as one right here the night I hired Goran …”

Goran spoke, “Don’t underestimate her. The only way you survive this night is to surrender to Bartle who should be entering your city now.”

“Never!” Santini was back in his rage. “Only a slave … still five against one. There is no surrender!”

Goran nodded. Cat said, “Santini …” He turned back to her and she released her arrow. It pierced his heart cleanly … despite the layers of fat. She immediately and quickly notched another arrow, moving her aim over the four remaining men, daring any of them to challenge her in the same way. Goran had trained her. On this world, you can’t afford to wait until you have to stop a blow from steel before acting. She had no qualms about acting at Goran’s signal.

Without the man with the money, any remaining resistance evaporated. Goran suggested to the commanders it might be in their interest to command the remainder of Santini’s army to lay down their weapons. They did and Bartle entered the city with little resistance. And, once word spread through the city about what had happened, Bartle and his meager army was welcomed by the common people as liberators.

That night was a city-wide celebration. Bartle had his men open the bulging stores reserved for Santini and distribute food and drink. Santini’s men switched alliances and listened to stories from Bartle’s men about how fairly and respected they were treated. Santini’s commanders were locked away in irons to be considered separately another day. The great hall where Santini held court filled with men in celebration and soon Santini’s slaves came out of hiding, welcoming the conquerors in their own way with distribution of drink and food … and themselves. The men eagerly accepted and shared all three.

Cat was lying naked between Goran and Bartle. The ornate throne-like chair of Santini had been destroyed and fed into the fire at the center of the chamber. They were sprawled on large cushions after the two men had vigorously double penetrated her ass and pussy. As they lay spent from shared sex, they found more naked slaves than ever serving and cavorting with the men. Bartle had hoped to avoid a devastating defeat at the hands of a superior army. Instead, he had been given new territory to govern. Goran had given Bartle only one expectation, that this new territory should someday prosper through his leadership the same as his own realm. Bartle was a good man with a philosophy of governing quite foreign to barbaric HOR but it led to a prosperity and gratification rarely found among a whole group of people, including the slaves.

Cat was lying on her back, each man lightly stroking her body, her now leaking pussy, her still aroused and erect nipples. Bartle was musing about Cat after Goran had finally confessed her origin. Cat was initially surprised until she found out that all three of them were originally from Earth and different times.

Goran gave her a nudge, “Go see how you can assist the other slaves in thanking the men.” She giggled, sat up and strode away from them with exaggerated flaunting of her ass.

Bartle propped a smaller pillow behind his back to watch the men enjoy the victory handed to them by Goran and Cat. “She acts like a slave but she clearly is not.” It was a statement filled with question, a puzzled he still didn’t understand about her. “A scientist, highly educated, independent and commanding. She was a leader of men in the military. I doubt she took any crap from anyone. But a slave?”

Goran laughed. “You know what happens to unaccompanied women here. When she was found, she didn’t even know the language. Her fate was sealed in that moment. She was abused for days and marked. You know what happens. The lowest of slaves. She would eventually have been punished often enough that she would have been killed outright as too much trouble or died in abuse, perhaps while given to an army of men. You know the stories … armies fucking women one after the other over and over, even as they collapse from the use and abuse, even after they have died from it. That would have undoubtedly been her fate.”

Bartle nodded. He had seen it on HOR. It was part of the reason for establishing his unique realm, a place where all people, even slaves, could reap the benefits of striving to a common goal and reward. He glanced at his friend and followed his eyes. Cat had literally skipped into the throng, as naked as any other slave but perhaps with more enthusiasm for what she offered. Three men dropped their trousers and she disappeared as they engulfed her. He soon saw her with a cock in each of her holes.

Looking back at Goran, he found him smiling. He waited for the story to continue.

With a bemuse shake of his head, “She’s the most sexual being I have ever encountered. She confessed it surprises her, too.” Bartle remains quiet. Then, “Anyway … yes, a slave but not … It was clearly a risk for me to take on a slave but I couldn’t just leave her to that fate when I heard her mutter English. So, I bartered for her. I convinced her she had to become an exceptional slave; it was the only way to change her fate. If I appeared weak, I could be challenged more boldly. During her training something seemed to click for her. We became an effective team … she was a slave in support of my actions. Santini saw it … heck, you saw it. It was all anyone saw … a compliant, willing, obedient, enthusiastic slave.”

His eyes were still on Cat with the three men. The one in her mouth must have climaxed as he backed away and another presented his cock to her open, gasping mouth. Goran smiled. He never tired of feeling her mouth on his own cock.

“I had other plans, though. She was so much more. We trained. Hard. I don’t think I have encountered someone so dedicated to improving, getting stronger, and learning. She was going to be a force and that was what I hoped for, her Earth body would react like mine with the enzymes and training. As far as I’m concerned, I’ve released her. As far as she’s concerned, she’ll always be my slave. It’s a strange relationship, to say the least. She’s the best person I could have at my side in any situation. The smartest person I know, even compared to you, and a fine warrior. All inside a beautiful woman who wants to remain my slave.” Goran shakes his head, the bemused smile still on his face as he watches her perform with the group of men.

Bartle seizes on an opportunity. “Sounds like you might finally be ready to settle in one place. Why don’t you take over this realm? It would be nice to have you nearby.” Bartle finishes with a chuckle but the urgency isn’t masked.

Goran looks at his friend, sees the seriousness in the face, but shakes his head. “Can you really see me settled in a city occupying myself with taxes, development, rules and laws, and settling squabbles between people?” Goran shakes his head, again. “Besides, you’ve prepared your sons for such jobs and both will do well governing like you.”

“What will you do, then? You and your woman who wants to be your slave?”

Goran smiles. He sees her partially stand to step over another prone man, settle down over him while another approaches her ass. At the same moment, her eyes seek out his and they both smile before her head is turned to engulf another cock.

“There is an opportunity I think I will look into.” He looks back to Bartle. “We’ll work out a way to stay in touch, though.” They clasp hands in acceptance.

Cat has suddenly never felt so on fire. As she is consumed by men with hard cocks, exploring all of her now gaping holes, she is panting and gasping, her heart pounding, and her body pulsing with energy and countless orgasms. But the fire driving her isn’t just the sex around her. She somehow now feels complete. All her time on HOR with Goran has been leading to something. All the training to be an exquisite slave for him. All the training to master his weapons. All the training to perfect her body for strength and agility. All of it, Goran said, was leading to his goal, his vision, his plan, his hope for them. She felt it now. What they had just done together was the culmination of all that. She understood how he saw her, how he felt about her. He was very clear and intentional. As two more cocks spewed cum into her body and her own responded in another orgasm, her heart swelled with her own clear and intentional understanding … she loved being his slave.

When she knelt in the midst of fully sated men, she rose to her feet and jauntily strode to where Goran and Bartle were reclined watching and talking. She stepped up to the feet of the reclined men. Goran stopped in mid-comment, his eyes rising from her shoulder-width spread legs, up her body, and to her smiling face. His eyes locked in on the smeared cum at the corners of her mouth she apparently missed when licking her lips last then allowed his eyes to wander down. Her chest was rising and falling with her heavy breathing, he could detect red marks on her breasts where fingers had aggressively fondled, the nipples standing proudly on those breasts were rigid and hard, her flat and hard stomach expanded and contracted with her deep breaths, and her pussy lips were clearly distended and gapped, cum from many men leaking from her and smeared on the insides of her thighs.

He quickly returned his gaze to her happy face. “Are you having fun, my slutty slave?”

Cat gushed back, “Oh, yes, Master! I don’t want to neglect you, though. What can I do for you, Master?”

“You and I will have our time later.”

She giggled at that. Then turned to Bartle, “What about you, sir?”

Bartle chuckled, “I have enjoyed your talents once, Cat. I think that might be all my lovely wife might forgive for.”

Goran quickly interjected, “I am sure there are more men, possibly outside, who you could find to pleasure.”

She stepped forward, bent over, and kissed Goran. As she stood upright, a dollop of cum clearly dropped from her pussy lips. She backed up a step and giggling said, “Thank you, Master.” She turned and jogged through the room for the door outside, her strong, glistening body moving delectably with every stride, her breast bouncing and swaying.

Hours later, the great room had become quiet, except for regular snoring from men s**ttered around the room. Goran stood and stretch his body. The hours and the drinking had had their effect but it was time. He put a hand out to assist Bartle and their both made their way carefully over and around the bodies, noting the naked men and slave women entwined. The last he saw of Cat was heading out the main door so that was his general direction. Outside, his attention was caught by two men waving arms. Bartle’s sons.

“We thought we would watch over her out here. We didn’t know how to thank you two for all you did for us.” Goran looked down at a mass of naked arms, legs, and bodies. Underneath legs and arms, he found familiar female body parts for a good identification. He chuckled and turned to the two men.

“Your father is inside. I think he might want to have a talk about your futures.” They clasped hands and parted. Goran bent to separate limbs to uncover the one naked form he sought. He pulled on one arm as she groggily mustered some strength to partially stand. She pressed into him with a sloppy kiss. “It’s time to leave, Cat. How are you feeling?”

“Okay, but … Master … I think I might be a little sore …” Goran laughed.

* * *

Goran led the way through the passages and tunnels of the mountains to the other side. Immediately following him was Cat also on her borsin. Coming out the other side, they stepped their borsins to the side and watched the herd move single-file from after them. Below them was the remainder of the herd, about half of the original that did not accompany them on their mission to defeat Santini and his army. Only a couple of the borsin had been injured in the stampede that leveled the field without a soldier of Bartle’s army was put to risk. Even those limped along at the rear of the column. Loud signals of trumpeting calls rose from the herd soon to be joined by loud return trumpeting calls.

Cat smiled and reached across the gap between them to touch Goran’s fingers. “Your plan worked, Master.”

“So, it would seem.”

“Tell me something, though, Master … you said Bartle offered you governing Santini’s realm but you told him you had something else in mind. What was the something else?”

Goran stretched his arm out to the North. In the distance, on a rise, was a very large gathering of people, some on rides and one on a borsin. As the borsin continued to stream past in front of them, she saw the one on the borsin, the chief presumably, raise his lance high in the air. As soon as he did, the entire mass of people raised their arms and waved and a short moment later a wild sound of cries and cheers traveled the distance.

Goran leaned forward to look into her face, “I thought it was time for you to stop being a slave. It is your time to be a queen.”

THE END

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