Helga and Consuela
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Chapter 1
Iona sat in the corner of the felt tent, trying to be as quiet and inconspicuous as possible. The men of the steppe, clad in their supple leathers and luxurious furs, had sternly and forcefully directed her to stay sat, and stay silent. She'd heard stories about what would befall her she was ever captured by steppe tribe, and what horrors to expect. Her head still felt light from the shock. She might only be eighteen, but she was a priestess; a junior priestess, but a priestess of the goddess of chastity and purity, Astraea. Being captured by the steppe people was a disaster. I've heard what they do to the men and women captured. So far, she had just been pushed around and manhandled from one tent to another, for which she was grateful. But she had already seen women and men ravished. Out in the open, for all to see! The sight had been more than Iona could handle.
This tent felt different from the others, however. For one thing, it was much larger, massive; large enough to hold over a hundred people. It was easily as impressive as the finery she had been used to in her temple, if not more so. The finest silk cushions and blankets were casually strewn around, soft and luxurious pelts of exotic animals she couldn't identify were everywhere. Even the wooden furniture looked expensive, and had been polished with beeswax until it shone. Iona had no doubt that they had gotten everything here from raids and slaughter, but it still conveyed a sense of grandeur.
She tried to avoid being noticed by any of the men in the tent. She kept her eyes looking down, only glancing at them from the corner of her eye. It was impossible to ignore them, towering over her as they did even whilst lounging on their cushions. The smell of sweat, horse and leather engulfed her. No matter what else was here, it could not hold her full attention for long, however. That returned inevitably to the woman reclining opposite her.
The chieftain towered over the men as they towered over Iona; she was at least a head taller than the biggest man here. Clad in the same furs and leathers as the rest, she had a slender musculature that was both clearly strong and undoubtedly feminine. The sword that she had by her side was easily the largest that Iona had seen, larger than Iona herself.
It was with that sword in hand that Iona had first seen the chieftain appear, smashing down the doors to her temple. It was with that sword that she had carved her way through the temple guards, slashing and dancing through them like they were scarecrows. Most times she had not even met the guards’ spears and swords before the blade sliced through them.The ferocity and grace that Iona had seen from the dark-haired woman had been awe-inspiring. Even now, it was hard for Iona not to stare at her. She contented herself with surreptitious glances.
The chieftain herself looked over the men with a stern gaze that bordered on anger, even as she lounged. There were plenty of discussions in a language Iona did not understand, but the statuesque woman would only say one or two words, letting the men argue amongst themselves. Every so often she would glance at Iona, catching her staring. At those times Iona jumped, looked down and swore to herself that she would not look any more. And each time Iona's eye would be dragged back to the darker-haired woman a few minutes later.
“You, girl!”
The barked words, in Iona's own language, startled her. It was the chieftain, looking straight at her and indicating towards her. Timidly, Iona raised her head and met her eyes as best she could.
“Do you know Cordava? Lie, and we will take your tongue, eyes and ears, and wash the wounds with salt, wine and vinegar.”
Iona felt a wash of fear at how casually she was threatened. The steady look she got from the chieftain made her certain that she meant it. A cold pit in her stomach formed, and she did not dare to lie.
“Yes, my lady. I visited there often, as part of my duties at the temple.”
Some of the men hooted and jeered at Iona's words, but the chieftain just gave a slight nod, and cast about significant glances. Eventually she glanced back at Iona with that stern look on her face.
“You will address me as Chief Helga, not Lady. That disrespect will earn you five strikes of the lash tomorrow morning. Next time it will be ten.” With that, she returned to consulting with her men.
Iona felt stung, chastised and afraid. She had never received a lashing before. She knew her life in the temple had been pampered and cared for. She had always been grateful, and had prayed her thanks everyday, but had it not been enough? Was this her punishment now? A life where she was to be lashed simply for saying the wrong word? I am a student of the divine, how could this be happening to me? she wailed inwardly.
She was shaken from her thoughts as the men stood, and the chieftain brought herself up leisurely. She barked a last set of instructions to the men, and then motioned to Iona.
“With me, girl,” Helga said, not unkindly.
Apprehension made Iona move slowly as she stood.
“I said move!” barked the chieftain. Striding forwards, she grabbed Iona by the hair on the back of her head, more forcefully than painfully, and directed her out of the dim tent. Iona could only move to keep up, standing and shuffling bent over as the chieftain threw her out into the glaring sunshine. Iona stumbled forwards, but caught herself from falling over, and kept walking swiftly to avoid any further attacks. She tried to calm her beating heart by straightening her white dress, edged with the gold leaves of her order. Some of the men chuckled as she left. Iona tried to regain some dignity as she walked. She took as steadying a breath as she could.
Helga directed her to a tent, smaller than the meeting tent, but still larger than all the rest Iona had seen in the encampment. As with the last, this one was lined with silks and luscious furs. A servant was polishing an expensive-looking wooden folding table, her body hunched over and trying not to draw attention to herself.
“Leave us,” Helga commanded sharply.
With a bow, the servant hurriedly gathering her things with quick but quiet movements and left.
“Kneel there.” Helga directed her to a particularly large pile of furs. Still feeling uncertain, Iona sank into them nervously.
“Tomorrow you will tell us about Cordava. The more information we have, the more of the townspeople we will spare.” She started unbuckling her armour and discarding her clothes, straps of leather falling to the floor. She undid the buckles of her leather harness more slowly, and hung it on pegs set into the tent’s supporting poles. “Make no mistake, those people cannot hold against us. With your help, no one need lose their life.”
Iona's eyes widened as the chieftain pulled off her chest armour, exposing the pert and hard breasts underneath. Watching her put it to the side mesmerized Iona, the way the muscles rippled and stretched like a jungle cat’s. She tore her eyes down sharply when the chieftain turned her face towards her. “Do you understand?”
“I... uh… I...” words fled from Iona's mouth. She felt heat come to her face as the chieftain stepped towards her directly. Iona fought to ignore the hard eyes. She was acutely aware of the breasts in front of her as she looked towards the floor. “Yes, yes, I understand.” There was a silence that Iona could feel, before she remembered. “Yes, Chief Helga.”
She felt more than saw Helga nodding. “Good.” With that she moved past Iona. Able again to look at her, Iona continued watching her move. She watched the chieftain’s back ripple as she grabbed a washbasin. She had never seen a woman with shoulders like hers, so strong and round, yet womanly. As the chieftain washed, Iona was transfixed with the water flowing over her skin as she lifted her arm this way and that to clean herself. Her back looks so strong! Iona felt her heartbeat quicken slightly. Her eyes dropped lower, and as the dark-haired woman started drying herself off, she turned and Iona could see her breasts again. They weren't as heavy as her own, or as large. But they look like they would be so soft to touch. Iona wasn't sure where that thought had come from, but once it was inside her it was hard to think of anything else. The rest of the chieftain's body had a hardness to it that Iona hadn't known a woman's body could have, yet the skin looked so smooth. As she watched, Iona felt herself getting warmer, and a warm tingling gathered in her womanhood.
“Do you have people to worry about in Cordava, girl? Any family?”
The questions snapped Iona from her musings. “My family were killed by bandits, Chief Helga. Most of my friends left for the army or the temples. The only family I have left is in a village south of Cordava.”
Ungrateful brat! You need to learn to do what you are told! Iona banished the memory as quickly as it came. She had promised herself she wouldn't think of it again when she ran away to the temples.
“Then think of them. Your words tomorrow may save their lives, and the lives of thousands of others.” She hung the damp cloth over a chair. “My tribesmen will kill three men for any one they lose after they take the city. Remember that.”
With that, Helga slumped on a pile of cushions and furs opposite Iona. A belt of leather still held a knife by her side, but other than that she was naked, and looking straight at Iona. Her knees were splayed out lazily, and her breasts flopped to either side. From her angle on the floor Iona could see straight between the dark-haired woman's legs, to the soft hair on top of her pussy. Everything about her said she was exhausted from the heat. When she looked down at Iona, however, there was a hunger in her dark eyes.
“Come closer, girl. Bring yourself here, and kneel in front of me.”
Iona felt a sense of apprehension grow in her, but didn't dare argue. She shuffled on her knees in front of the chieftain, smoothing her dress down her thighs. Helga curled herself upwards, bring her face close to the kneeling woman. Iona could smell her hair, leather and whatever sweat hadn't been washed off, this close to her.
“Have you ever pleasured a man before?” The question was direct, and to the point. Iona shook her head slowly, and tried not to let her fear show. The chieftain nodded, as if to herself. “What of a woman? Were there any… special friendships at your temple?”
The question confused Iona. She didn't understand what a special friendship was. How could…? Her face must have shown her confusion, because the chieftain didn't wait for her answer. Instead she just leaned in, placed a hand on the back of her head. and kissed her lips.
The shock of the other woman’s hot lips sent fire through Iona. Her lips parted, and she felt a soft, exploring tongue slip through, retreating away from her mouth before she could react. Her mind panicked, somehow feeling like she was going to get in trouble, but also unable to think. When the chieftain pulled away, she gripped Iona's hair, tilting her head upwards, and ran her fingers lightly over her face and neck. Iona felt her skin tingle where the woman's fingers trailed.
“That was a kiss, priestess. And that's what you are going to do to any part of me I tell you to.” Fingers brushed against Iona’s lips. “Like my fingers, now.”
Iona’s heart was pounding in her chest. She felt her lips move as she kissed the fingers dancing over her lips. Helga gave a low chuckle, and heat rushed to Iona's face.
“Good girl,” she said. And with that, she trailed her hand away from Iona’s cheek and onto her shoulder, pushing the dress part-way off to expose her breast. Nails trailed down her skin, and then hands were massaging her tender flesh. Iona felt exposed and vulnerable, but couldn't muster the courage to say anything. After a gentle squeeze, Iona felt a gasp escape her mouth. The warm tingles grew between her legs. Another kiss landed on her lips, this time slower and deeper. Fire swept through her as she sank into it. She realized she was kissing back, but couldn't explain why.
Finally pulling away, the chieftain pulled Iona by her hair towards her inner thigh. “There. You are going to keep kissing there, and all around my pussy. Look me in the eyes whilst you pleasure me, girl. You have a pretty face, and I want to see it as I make you mine.”
Iona bent to her task, keeping her eyes on her captor as she had been told. From here the smell of leather and horses mixed with the smell of the woman’s hair, and as she ran her lips over the chieftain's thigh and groin she could taste it all, mixed with the salt of her sweat. She paid attention to how the taller woman reacted to her kisses. Just to the left of the pussy there was a particular spot that she gasped at whenever Iona licked and kissed it, and Helga would force her face hard onto her when she did. Iona found herself spending more time there, wanting the stronger woman to grab her and force her face down. The chieftain's eyes stared down at her with that hungry look, and Iona felt her face flush as she was filled with a mixture of humiliation and desire.
“I'm going to make you mine,” Helga whispered. Her voice was breathier than before. “Keep me satisfied, priestess, and I'll keep you by my side. I'll keep you safe.” She moaned as Iona sucked at her pussy. “Be mine, and I will keep you as a pet. But you must be loyal to me, like a good pet would. Even in your heart. Do you want that, priestess?”
Iona hesitated, feeling a wave of humiliation run through her. Deep inside her, she felt a stirring in her body, one she didn't want to think too hard about. I'll only do it to protect my chastity. That's all. It sounded like a lie, even in her head. She felt another crush of shame as she realized how fast her heart raced at the thought of being kept by this woman. She nodded to the warrior.
“Then say the words, my pet.”
“I want to be yours, Chief Helga.” A renewed sense of shame came over Iona, but she didn't hesitate to say the words. You know them to be true. She ignored the shameful thought, and reminded herself she was doing this to live. She looked up at her new Chief, who grinned wolfishly at her.
“Stick your tongue out, priestess.”
Timidly, Iona did as she was told, letting her tongue protrude further and further. The hungry look in the dark-haired woman intensified. Grabbing Iona's head in both her hands, she turned the smaller woman's face directly in front of her crotch, and gently but firmly pulled her, tongue first, onto the top of her pussy.
“Lick there, priestess. Run your tongue up and down my pussy. Suck gently at the top, and keep running your tongue over me. Very good… mmm.”
One of the strokes of Iona's tongue must have hit a very tender spot, as the chieftain pulled her tight into her pussy, hard enough that Iona stumbled forwards onto her hands and knees. She kept licking, suckling and kissing in near desperation. The sweet smell of leather and horse mixed with the smell of her musk. Iona's face was drenched in wetness from a mixture of where her mouth and tongue had been and the sweat of the day. It seemed to be flowing with liquid, and Iona tried licking it all up. She felt more heat increase in her own groin, but she tried not to think of that as she followed each one of the instructions she was given.
As Iona worked, she became fascinated with the way her darting and flicking tongue made the muscular woman's body squirm. The heat of the strong thighs on either side of Iona's face mixed with the heat of the tent. She felt a mischievous pride grow in her at the other woman's pleasure, and was surprised by it. I am a priestess of Astraea. What is happening to me? She told herself she was doing what she needed to survive. I must save my chastity. That's all I'm doing. The tingling in her loins seemed to mock her.
She heard a noise at the entrance to the tent behind her, and realised with a shock that someone had come in. She yanked her head back, and scrambled back to her knees, pulling her dress to cover her breasts again. She looked over her shoulder to see three male warriors enter clad in their furs and leathers. She turned to look at Helga, who still lounged naked on her furs without any concern for the men, and felt a thrill of fear. Fury painted the chieftain's face, and she glared down at Iona in wrath.
Faster than she could have believed, a strong hand was at her dress, pulling her up towards Helga’s face. “Please, please, the men...” Iona had time to whimper before a slap that shook her head and stung her cheek.
“I do not care about the men.” Another slap on her other cheek caused both sides of her face to sting. Iona's heart beat faster than a horse's. “You do not care about the men. If you stop before I tell you to, I will beat you until you have learnt true discipline. Do you understand?”
Iona quivered, and she nodded her head whilst trying to avoid her eyes. A fist gathered her hair, and pulled her neck back to make Iona look at the chieftain's face again. Displeasure had replaced wrath, but Iona still found it hard to look in her eyes.
“You do not like the men. Good.” Helga nodded as if to herself.
With that, she reached behind Iona and started pulling up her dress, bunching the fabric into her fist. Iona felt the dress ride up thighs, and then up her buttocks and lower back, fully displaying her rear to the men. She heard herself whimper as she thought of the men's eyes on her.
“Hold that dress there. Let them see you.”
Iona felt humiliation wash over her. She could feel the eyes of the men like a physical touch on her hips. She grabbed the dress on either side of her hips in tight fists and kept it there so they could see her bare backside. Her face flushed red.
The warrior woman leaned back into the furs.
“Get back to what you were doing. And don't stop until I tell you to, no matter what.”
Feeling her face burn, Iona kept the dress over her hips and leant forwards, kissing and licking at Helga’s soft pussy. Behind her some of the men jeered. One of them spoke out in their harsh tongue, and Helga pulled Iona towards her by the hair so she could whisper softly in her ear.
“They think you have a nice ass, priestess. Lean forwards more, and arch your back. Let them see it better. Show yourself off for me,” the steppe woman said dispassionately.
Iona felt her face flush with heat once more, but she dared not argue. Bunching her dress into one hand so it still lay over her hips, she placed one hand down onto the carpeted floor, leaned forwards and arched her back as far as she could. When she looked back at Helga, there was no sign she approved. Iona moved her behind from side to side. The men all jeered at the sight. She looked up at the warrior woman's face, hoping she was pleased now. Helga's expression was still hard and stern, but a small, satisfied smirk was fighting through. It sent a small thrill through Iona.
“Back to work, priestess.”
Iona dutifully stuck her tongue out, and started licking the chieftain again. She focused on that, and tried to ignore the men behind her.
The chieftain brought the men's attention back to her. It was clear that they had seen her receiving this treatment before, and whilst they all leered at Iona, they still spoke with deference and respect to the warrior woman, even in her pleasure. Still breathing heavily, and writhing under Iona's tongue, the chieftain heard the men, and then spoke a few more words of their language. Iona heard them leave the tent shortly after.
Breathing out with a sigh of relief, Iona started to move the dress down over her hips.
“I did not say to let the dress fall,” came the sharp voice of the chieftain. Iona froze, and brought the dress over her hips again. What for? There's no one there. Is there?
“You lack discipline. Did you like having the men look at you?”
Pausing, she drew herself away from the woman's crotch, and spoke through the wetness on her lips and cheeks. “No...”
“I did not tell you to stop!”
Fear stabbed through Iona. She hurriedly buried her face again, and kept her tongue and lips moving onto the sensitive areas.
“Better. Now again, did you like having the men look at you?”
Panic filled Iona, as she wanted to answer, but was afraid to stop what her mouth was doing. With her mouth on Helga's mound, she tried to say as clearly as possible, “Mno.” It came out muffled, and Iona worried that she would not have been understood.
“I did not think so. If you do not learn discipline, I will have you tied to a post naked, with nothing but your welts to keep you company. I will let the men of my tribe use your body to pleasure themselves for as long as the moon and the sun are in the sky. There are several thousand men, and any one of them would use you. At their worst, I have seen my men give a woman to their horses, just for their entertainment. Is that what you want, priestess?”
Her heart beat rose in her again. Astraea forgive me, I need to keep my chastity. I cannot be sent to those men! Being careful to keep her mouth and lips on the warrior woman’s mound, she gave her muffled response as clearly as she could. “Mno, mleafe!”
A hand stroked her head. “Good girl. Let's hope you can learn discipline.” Cords stuck out on the chieftain’s neck, as she took a steadying breath. “You have an incredibly sweet mouth.”
Pride burned in Iona at the compliment, although she tried to suppress it. She started bobbing her head to get more motion into her tongue movements. It's just to survive. I don't want to go to the men! It's just to avoid that. She repeated that to herself like a mantra. She tried not to think about about how pleased she was to be told she had a sweet mouth. She tried to not think about how erotic she felt whilst enjoying this. The tingling in her womanhood had spread to her entire body.
“I'm going to bring some more men in here. Would you like to be naked whilst we continue?”
The question seemed innocent, as if she was just curious. “Mno Mssem,” Iona said, uncertainly.
A wide smile broke over Helga’s face. “As you wish. Keep the dress over your rear.”
“Enter!” the chieftain barked.
A noise at the tent flap behind her told of men entering. Her face burned, and her hips and ass felt exposed and vulnerable, but she had learnt from last time. This was a test. She kept her mouth at her task, and stared devotedly at the steppe woman.
“Chief Helga, we would like to present ourselves. I am the Mayor of Cordava, and with me are…” That was as far as the new arrivals got. The sight before them took the words out of their mouths. Iona realized they must have recognized her dress.
“Do you like my new pet? I picked her up in a temple a day's ride from here,” the steppe woman said lazily. “You received reports of our raid, yes? That's how long it took to make her my pet. A day.” Iona felt shame burn through her. She didn't know if it was really the mayor. This could still be a test. She kept at her work.
“And I know who you are. You're the people who said that half your city's wealth was too steep a price to pay for peace with my tribe.”
Slowly, the men walked closer towards the two women. Iona could feel them at her back. One of them stood by her side, but well out of arm’s reach. He could see her face clearly, and what she was doing. Making sure her tongue was still working on the woman's pussy, she risked a look at who it was.
Glaring down at her with eyes burning with righteous authority was the high priest of Cordava. He had a perpetually stern look on his face and his greying bushy eyebrows and beard bristled as he recognized her. Iona felt herself stop, and ripped her eyes away to look at Helga again. She refused to look at the high priest again.
“You are here to argue more favourable terms for peace, is that right? By all means, go ahead. You have…” The steppe woman made a noise as if deciding an amount. “…some of my attention. Let's say half.” Her hand was stroking at the back of Iona’s head. Shame burned through Iona, but she kept her mouth working.
“We had reports that you had ransacked the holy temple of Astraea yesterday,” the high priest said stiffly. “Even for a savage such as you, we thought there were limits to your depravity.” His voice held contempt; Iona knew this man, though. His voice often did.
“Tell me, what is Astraea goddess of?” Iona felt the stony glance on the back of her head. She ignored him; all that mattered was Helga. She heard the answer though, and tried not to let it stab into her. “Astraea is the goddess of purity and chastity.” The old man snorted contemptuously at the warrior woman's suddenly wolfish smile. “You could have put that robe on any whore, after you took it from a priestess.”
That wolfish smile remained on the barbarian woman. “Do you believe I did?”
For a moment, he didn't reply. Iona wasn't sure if he would remember her. They had only met a few times, and each time they had both been busy.
“No,” he said after a pause. “I recognise her from my last visit to that temple. Clearly this whore never belonged as one of our priestesses.”
Humiliation washed through Iona, but she kept her attention on the steppe woman. Getting angry now will only get me killed – and maybe the rest of Cordava too. She kept at her work silently. For some reason the tent suddenly filled with tension, and no one moved except Iona, determined in her work of pleasuring her chieftain.
“She's not your priestess anymore. She's my pet.” The chieftain brought herself up onto her elbows. “A pet pleasuring me is worth ten of your priestesses to my tribe. I am giving you one chance, one, because I am generous and this sweet mouth is pleasing. Send me tribute, half the wealth of your city. Or I will kill your men, and take your women for me and my men. Your daughters and wives will share this priestess’s fate. It will take less than a day after you die for them to be my pets. Do you have sons? The prettiest will go to my men. The rest will die.” She looked back at the older man. “Send me tribute, and we will leave. Defy us, and we will force what is left of you to submit.”
Iona heard murmurs of assent, but the words that came from the high priest were defiant. “You will receive nothing from us. You can keep your whore, we will not submit. We will go to the gods untainted! We are ready to die rather than see you godless savages profit.”
The woman paused. Then she addressed the other men. “Half your city’s wealth, and you kill him. You can tell them I did it if you wish.”
Iona paused, and half turned to see the effect this offer had made. The old man had enough time to start repeating himself, before all three men behind him grabbed and yanked him screaming out of the tent.
“Wagons will be here in a week, Chieftain,” one shouted.
“Your descendants will thank you. Now leave here. And be grateful my pet's attentions have put me in a good mood.”
As the men stumbled out in a rush, Iona could hear noises of protest from the high priest. She heard them leave the tent, a loud cry, and then silence. She felt a burst of pity for the old man. He had never been a smart man, only loud and stubborn.
A strong, slender hand tilted her chin up. She let her tongue come away from Helga’s pussy.
“As for you…” the chieftain drawled, and slid two fingers into her mouth whilst she looked at Iona fervently. She sucked them lightly, and they came out of her mouth wet. She pushed them past Iona's lips, and forced her mouth open wide, wider, until her jaw hurt. “We're going to get serious now.” -->
Geraldine
- 05.12.2020
- 17
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