4 comments/  28602 views/  5 favorites

Vale of the Hist

By: MickJay



"There, My Princess," said Sir Arrack, pointing ahead with one gauntleted hand. "Yonder hill is the meeting place."

Princess Rhialla looked at the crest of the high, broad hill half a mile distant. She saw no movement there.

"How far is the Hist village from here?" she asked. She was pleased to note the firmness of her voice, despite the anxiety which clawed at her belly.

"About three hours' ride on horseback, Princess," said Sir Arrack. "Though of course the Hist have no horses."

"Then let us go forward, Sir Arrack, and win my dear sister's release."

"Yes, Princess."

Rhialla urged her little mare to a trot, and her escort followed. Sir Arrack rode by her side on his enormous warhorse, while five mounted men-at-arms, hand-picked, followed in formation.

They had traveled all morning, down from the mountain keep where the last Human king reigned from a crumbling stronghold, ruling a populace of fewer than one thousand souls. Twenty years earlier, this vale had been a part of her father's kingdom. Then had come the reptilian Hist, mankind's implacable foe. Intelligent and cunning, they arose from the steaming jungles far to the south and fell upon the lands of men without fear or mercy. They slaughtered tens of thousands of men -- warriors and farmers, blind old men, and boys too young to lift a sword. But women were captured and enslaved, put to whatever uses the Hist required.

As young girls, Rhialla and her older sister, the Princess Brianna, had heard endless rumors of what life must be like for the "Hist-thrall" -- slaves of the Hist. Then one day, a woman was found wandering naked and dazed near the human settlement; she had been captured by the Hist and spent six weeks in their clutches before managing to escape. When she had been nursed back to some semblance of health, the woman told her tale to the King; little Rhialla, eager to hear all the details, hid herself behind a tapestry in the throne room and heard all.

Unable to sleep that night, she told Brianna the woman's story. From then on, the two sisters would stay up late many nights in their little room in the Keep, terrifying and tittilating each other as they imagined being captured by the Hist and used in unspeakable ways for many weeks until, invariably, they were rescued by a heroic knight.

Now those stories had come true, for Princess Brianna at least. She had disappeared during an evening ride with Malweather Urksom, a young nobleman who was eager to take her hand in marriage (and the throne that would go with it once her father the King passed away). They had evidently ridden too far down the mountain and encountered a Hist foraging party. Urksom was discovered the next day, his body torn to pieces and partially devoured; Brianna's clothing was strewn across the rocky ground.

Overwhelmed with grief, King Remnin had sent an envoy to the Hist, humbly requesting a parlay to discuss terms for the release of his adored daughter. The Hist, ever inscrutable, had agreed to a meeting. Princess Rhialla, worried in equal measure over the health of both her father and her sister, volunteered to lead the negotiation.

Sir Arrack, Captain of the King's Guard, insisted that he be allowed to accompany the Princess. Rhialla had long suspected the noble knight was deeply, if quietly, in love with her; sure enough, Sir Arrack had secured from King Remnin a promise that if both Brianna and Rhialla were returned safely, Sir Arrack would be given Princess Rhialla's hand in marriage.

That would be an unprecendented reward for a mere knight -- but in truth there were very few men of noble blood left in King Remnin's realm. As it was, only the elderly Lord Flajalist was of sufficiently high birth to be a potential mate for Princess Brianna; given a choice between Sir Arrack and the half-senile Lord Flajalist, Rhialla would have picked the gallant knight without a second thought.

The little party of humans cantered up the hillside in silence; the sun was halfway to noon now, but the air was still brisk with morning chill. The valley they were in had once been called Springsong Vale, and had been the jewel of her father's realm. Rhialla herself had never before seen tbe valley, now called the Vale of the Hist; she had been raised in the mountain fastnesses where humankind now eked out its existence, in the high altitudes where the reptilian Hist loathed to go.

Sir Arrack was old enough to remember this place, however. He was approaching thirty, more than ten years older than she. He had been a young squire of ten when the Hist first came to this verdant valley and took it from the Humans. Rhialla looked at his face, creased now with twenty years of sorrow and hardship, and felt a pang of homesickness. She did not love Sir Arrack, not exactly, but she did admire and respect him; he would be a devoted and loyal husband.

They reached the crest of the hill and halted. The hilltop stretched nearly level for thirty yards ahead of them. No one awaited them there.

"Are we early, Sir Arrack?" asked Rhialla.

"Perhaps, My Princess. By your leave, we shall wait a few minutes."

"Yes, of course."

The seven humans waited in silence for many minutes. Princess Rhialla was growing alarmed. She had imagined the possible outcomes of this meeting -- success, failure, even betrayal and ambush -- but never did she suppose the Hist would simply fail to appear.

"Listen," said Sir Arrack. "Someone approaches."

Rhialla strained her ears, but for several seconds heard nothing. Then she made out the scuff of bare feet on rocks, and the panting of heavy breath. Suddenly a figure appeared over the crest of the hill just ahead of them. A human, it seemed. Female.

She approached with shoulders hunched and back bowed, naked but for a heavily rusted iron collar. She scampered forward several feet at a time, whimpering incessantly, stopping frequently to glance about. Fifteen feet short of Rhialla's steed she halted abruptly and dropped to her haunches, wringing her hands anxiously.

The girl had no doubt been an exquisite specimen at one time, but was now gaunt and underfed, her ribs and hipbones protruding, limbs lank and angular. Her vast grey eyes were shadowed and hollow, high cheekbones too prominent above the sunken cheeks.

She licked her chapped lips and spoke in a voice so small and tremulous that Rhialla could scarce understand: "The human female Glisten is sent forth to announce the impending presence of her glorious Masters." She cast another glance over her shoulder, grimacing fearfully.

Rhialla gazed at the pitiful girl with compassion. Glisten's hair was matted and tangled, its color indeterminate; it appeared to be black, but it may have been brightest flaxen and merely crusted with weeks or months of dirt.

At pains to put the girl at ease, Rhialla said awkwardly, "You have a very pretty name, Glisten." 

Breathless, she awaited the girl's response. Glisten, who had been staring resolutely at the hooves of Rhialla's horse, turned her head away as if disconcerted by the compliment. She licked her lips again and stopped wringing her hands together, instead gripped both her breasts tightly, fingers clutching deep in the soft flesh. Her breasts were full and pendulous, despite the stark leanness of her body, and Rhialla thought sadly of the beautiful woman this girl might have become had she not been so cruelly enslaved.

Glisten pulled vehemently at her breasts, raking her clawed fingers repeatedly through them. Rhialla cringed, her own breasts aching at the sight of such self-abuse. At length Glisten gasped almost regretfully, "Mistress is most kind!" she groaned. "Pretty mistress!" She wrung her breasts without mercy, the muscles of her lanky arms bulging with effort.

"Stop that!" cried Rhialla, in a torment of pity. She dismounted and moved toward the pathetic girl, one arm outstretched; but Glisten immediately scampered away from her on all fours, puling vehemently. 

"Rhialla!" called Sir Arrack sharply. "Leave it!"

Rhialla stopped short and turned on the knight, glowering. "You forget your place, Sir!"

"Forgive me, Princess," Sir Arrack said, abashed. "But you well know that any Hist-thrall who has been more than six months in collar can never be restored to humanity. And that one" -- he gestured dismissively toward Glisten, now cowering in the shadow of a boulder twenty feet away -- "has worn that collar for many years, I'll wager."

"But there must be something we can do for her!"

"The touch of the Hist infects their brains, Princess, and leaves them forever unclean." Sir Arrack gazed impassively at Glisten, his thin lips curled contemptuously; Rhialla realized with a shudder that he did not see a human being in the poor slavegirl -- an instrument of the Hist he saw, and nothing more.

Rhialla spared another ruefull glance at Glisten, then returned to her horse. As she settled back in the saddle a second figure appeared beyond Glisten; another naked human female, in much the same state as Glisten. She advanced with curiously bestial stride, bent far forward, using her hands as she loped along in the semblance of a four-legged gait. Tangled, dirt-brown hair hung like a filthy curtain in front of her face, but Rhialla glimpsed the pale features beneath -- hollow, fearful eyes, a badly crooked nose, and a generous mouth set in a grimace which bared her missing upper front teeth. Seeing the small party of mounted humans the girl halted suddenly, knees bent and palms flat against the rocky ground.

"She is more wretched even than Glisten!" cried Rhialla, horrified. The girl's body was trembling visibly, but whether from exertion or fear Rhialla could not be sure.

Rhialla's horse snorted fiercely and stamped at the ground, threatening to rear. The Princess tightened the reins and stroked the mare's neck soothingly.

"It is the Hist," said Sir Arrack, struggling to control his own horse. "They are near."

Rhialla's throat constricted, and for the first time in her life she felt real fear. She forced herself to sit straight and still as she waited, though her heart was pounding wildly in her chest.

"Do not fret, My Princess," said Sir Arrack, his voice strong and assured. "All will be well."

Good Sir Arrack, so brave and true! She let herself be calmed by his words, and even turned her head to give him one of the fleeting smiles he professed to crave. But the knight's eyes were fixed on the road ahead, his gauntleted hand gripping the hilt of his longsword.

Rhialla heard the sound of bells from the road, and the crack of a whip. Then appeared a trio of human females, heads clean-shaven except for topknots growing from the crown of each. Their faces were uniformly haggard, deeply lined with exhaustion, the eyes staring fixedly, incognizant. From their breasts hung dented iron bells, which clanged discordantly as the girls trotted steadily up the road.

Their bodies were trussed in leather straps by which they were harnessed to a low four-wheeled chariot. The two slave girls in the road scattered as the ponygirls charged forward at the demand of their driver's whip. They rapidly bore down on Rhialla and her escort, galloping heedlessly at them.

Alarmed, Rhialla was about to command her guards to clear the road and let the vehicle pass, when without warning all three ponygirls' heads jerked backward as their driver pulled viciously on the reins. They groaned piteously through their bits and staggered to a halt ten feet in front of Rhialla.

The Princess stared at them with revulsion, listening to their labored breathing. They were panting, wheezing with the effort to fill their lungs, chests straining against the relentless constriction of the harness straps. Their legs were trembling violently, their bodies bathed in sweat which steamed in the cool morning air. Saliva foamed their lips, and long strands of spittle dangled from their chins. Each of them bore a curious mark on her forehead -- an undulate symbol, circumscribed.

"They have been branded," observed Sir Arrack, also noting the marks.

Something stirred deep within Princess Rhialla, something primal and disturbing. She could not take her eyes from the branded ponies who had once been human women like herself, but were now merely the property of brutish creatures who used them without regard.

"Like beasts," Rhialla murmured, her hand at her throat. Even as she watched, one of the harnessed girls began to relieve herself, a golden stream of piss erupting from between her legs and striking the ground forcefully.

Rhialla stared, aghast. The girl showed no concern, no sense of shame whatever as she emptied her bladder in front of them; she did not attempt to move her feet to avoid the spreading puddle. When she was done she stood motionless, indifferent to the last rivulets of urine coursing down her thighs.

A hissing, croaking sound suddenly rose from the four-wheeled vehicle, and a sinister shape loomed upward, as if uncoiling itself. Its body was slender, no wider than Rhialla's own, with glistening black scales; high up on the body a pair of short stocky arms emerged, little more than half as long as a man's. It held in one of its clawlike hands a long black lash, in the other the ponygirls' reins.

A foot or more above the arms sat the wedge-shaped head. The eyes, round and black as midnight, regarded her unblinkingly, lifeless and cold. The wide, rigid jaw opened a fraction, and a long forked tongue flickered.

Rhialla waited, lightheaded with fear; she felt her horse trembling beneath her, tossing its head in agitation. The Hist had drawn itself nearly erect, and its head was now level with Rhialla's own. Its body swayed sinuously, hypnotically, and Rhialla forced herself to look away.

Instead, she looked at the ponygirls, found herself staring at the central pony's topknot. It was bound upright in a stiff leather thong, rising ten inches from the crown of the girl's head and terminating in a tuft of blonde. It was vaguely phallic and somehow, impossibly, arousing.

Rhialla swallowed audibly, squirmed in her saddle. She longed desperately to turn her horse around and gallop pell-mell back to the safety of her father's castle. But she could not let herself surrender to her fear; she must gain her sister's freedom, whatever the cost.

She looked again at the Hist, still swaying slightly, its tongue flickering every few moments. Screwing up her courage, she addressed the monstrous reptile with a voice which quavered only slightly: "I bring you greetings from Remnin, King of Humankind."

The Hist turned its head far to one side and opened its wide jaws, emitted a series of hisses and croaks. Glisten sprang immediately to her feet and hastened forward, whimpering anxiously. She dropped to hands and knees beside the chariot, staring fixedly at the ground. Rhialla saw now that the girl had been branded like the ponygirls, but on her right buttock rather than her forehead.

"Glisten hears and obeys, Master!" the slavegirl said.

The Hist spoke again, its language all sibilance and eructation.

"Yes, Master!" cried Glisten. "Instantly, Master!"

She turned to the humans, even looked up for a moment into Rhialla's face; her expression was despairing, her face creased with sorrows the Princess could not dream of. Glisten bowed her head deferentially and announced, "The mighty Hist Broodmaster honors you with His presence." Then she fell silent, eyeing the armored knights uneasily.

Rhialla remembered the advice of her father, who had warned her not to be goaded by the arrogance and antagonism of the Hist.

"King Remnin has received word that His daughter the Princess Brianna is in the hands of the Hist," she said. "He respectfully requests that she be returned to Him, in exchange for goods of suitable value."

The Hist spoke again, and Glisten translated with notable reticence, stumbling over her words: "His August Magnificence...the Hist Broodmaster...acknowledges that the...the human slut named 'Brianna' currently resides naked and obedient in a Hist cage."

"Then she is alive?" asked Rhialla, unable to contain her excitement. "And unharmed?"

The Hist responded at some length and Glisten cringed visibly at what she heard. Wringing her hands together, she glanced again at Rhialla, her visage a rictus of anxiety. "The Broodmaster," she said, and paused. Then, "The Broodmaster finds Himself vastly intrigued by the slut Brianna, and ... and feels that no riches may be sufficient to replace her." She licked her lips anxiously and seemed to contemplate a further statement, but said nothing more. After several seconds, the Hist addressed her with additional hisses and croaks, more vehement than before. It raised the lash and cracked it several times across the girl's back.

Glisten flinched violently and clutched her heaving breasts, pulled convulsivley at them with her clawed fingers as she was beaten. "As Master commands!" she sobbed. "Glisten hears! Glisten obeys!"

The lizard ceased lashing the girl; its tongue flickered more rapidly, but its soulless eyes were as dispassionate as ever. Glisten, sobbing and gasping, said hurriedly, "The exalted Broodmaster demands to know the name of the insolent human slut who addresses Him with such unseemly informality!"

Rhialla's cheeks burned at these words, and she could not bring herself to look into the cold reptilian eyes which now regarded her intently. "My name is Princess Rhialla," she said, with more deference than she cared to hear in her voice. "I am King Remnin's younger daughter."

The Hist made its reply, and this time Glisten translated dutifully if still reluctantly. "The illustrious Broodmaster compliments the slut on her exquisite beauty, but expresses displeasure at the clothes obscuring the charms of her body."

Rhialla blushed more deeply, and heard Sir Arrack mutter angrily. Her mind raced, her emotions seemed to swirl dizzyingly in her stomach. She should have been outraged, she supposed, but she felt only confusion and diffidence; did the Broodmaster intend to insult her, or had it offered a genuine compliment? She suspected the slavegirl Glisten would have been overjoyed to receive similar praise from her Master, and that thought alone left Rhialla absurdly gratified.

"I appreciate the Esteemed Broodmaster's ... flattery," she said. "I humbly request that he bring my sister forth, so that I may see her."

The Broodmaster turned and issued a sharp call, a whistle ending in a cough. From beyond the edge of the hill a lash cracked, and breast bells rang. A single ponygirl appeared, flanked by a pair of Hist, one of whom wielded the lash which cracked against the little pony's backside.

The two reptiles advanced on short stocky legs, little longer than their arms. Their scales, like the Broodmaster's, were black, with bands of crimson. They each stood seven feet high, their tails extending another five feet behind them.

The pony was harnessed to a tiny iron cage on four wheels, no more than three feet on each side and only two feet high; inside it, naked and trembling, crouched Brianna.

"You keep her locked in that tiny cage?!" cried Rhialla, horrified.

The Broodmaster spoke shortly, gesturing at the cage, and Glisten relayed his words: "The indomitable Broodmaster has treated the slut Brianna with special care. A cage of that size is normally used to transport up to five human sluts at once."

Rhialla could not bring herself to respond. She stared at her poor sister, her long lovely body folded within the confines of the miniscule prison. Brianna gripped the bars of the cage, staring forward listlessly, as if in shock.

Rhialla looked back at the Broodmaster, blinking the tears angrily from her eyes. "What are your demands?" she asked curtly.

The Broodmaster coughed several times, and Rhialla realized suddenly that it was laughing. "What do the humans bring to barter with?" it asked, through Glisten.


Vale of the Hist



"We have ... jewels, gold, food, furs ...." Rhialla strove to keep her voice steady, but when she glanced again at her imprisoned sister she felt a burning lump growing in her throat. She noted that the second slavegirl, the one who had appeared just before the arrival of the Broodmaster's carriage, had crept up close to one of the Hist guarding Brianna's cage; she was squatting beside the reptile's leg, masturbating as she peered intently at Brianna.

"The glorious Broodmaster has little use for such trinkets," Glisten was translating. "Humans have very little of value to offer the implaccable Hist."

"But...what will you take in exchange for Brianna?" asked Rhialla, stifling a sob. "The King must have His daughter back; she is His dearest treasure."

She glanced again at her caged sister, and saw that the slavegirl squatting by the cage had turned her body toward the Hist guard. She pressed her small breasts against the gleaming scales of the hideous beast's abdomen, grinding herself eagerly against it. Rhialla could not take her eyes away from the mortifying spectacle -- the shameless slut was trying to entice that vile creature, brazenly seeking to couple with it right in front of the Human delegation, like some rutting animal.

The slave, still fondling herself with her left hand, slid her right hand up under the Hist's tail, behind its legs. The Hist lifted its tail, and its tongue began to flicker with what Rhialla supposed must be arousal. What was the slavegirl doing? How would she pleasure her saurian Master?

"The great Broodmaster makes only two demands on the Humans," Glisten said. Rhialla reluctantly returned her attention to the Hist Broodmaster.

"What are they?" she asked.

"Firstly, the human sluts Glisten and Thistle are to copulate with your human males here for the purpose of insemination."

Glisten's face reddened as she spoke, though Rhialla suspected this was from excitement rather than humiliation. The Princess understood the reason for this demand -- since the Hist routinely sacrificed all captured human males in the name of their foul goddess, they had no means of maintaining their supply of slaves through simple breeding processes.

Rhialla glanced at Sir Arrack, and saw on his face the same steely grim expression he had worn all morning. She knew he and his men-at-arms would couple with the filthy Hist-thrall if it would ensure the return of Brianna; a blade of jealousy stabbed her heart, though she well knew Sir Arrack would derive no pleasure from the deed.

"It will be done," she said.

The Broodmaster communicated its second demand to Glisten, and the slavegirl's eyes widened as she listened. She began crushing her breasts together with the heels of her palms as if determined to macerate them to a pulp. Grimacing, she said, "The majestic Broodmaster also requires..." She hesitated, still savaging her breasts, and now writhing with dismay; but before her Master could lose its patience with her she continued hurriedly, "...requires that thirty human sluts be handed over in exchange for the one named Brianna."

Rhialla gasped, her heart sinking. There were scarcely three hundred adult women left in her father's entire paltry kingdom -- they could not afford to part with thirty of them. Rhialla realized with dreadful certainty that she had made a terrible mistake by revealing the extent of her father's distress over Brianna's capture. Now the Hist was determined to take full advantage of the Human King's desperation.

The thirty women would be wives and daughters, mothers and sisters, condemned to live in abject slavery to the abominable Hist. But she could never agree to such a demand, not after seeing Glisten and Thistle and those wretched ponygirls. She could not force such a nightmarish existence on anyone.

"I cannot!" she said, her head spinning. "I cannot give you thirty innocents to despoil."

The Broodmaster was silent a moment. Then it hissed a few words, gathered up its reins and raised its lash. "The great Broodmaster departs," said Glisten, her voice subdued. "The slut Brianna will wear His collar and His brand."

"Wait!" Rhialla cried. "Do not go, I beg of you!"

The Hist paused, its lashed upraised over the trembling ponygirls.

"I offer the mighty Broodmaster an even trade -- myself for Brianna!"

"No!" bellowed Sir Arrack. "Rhialla!"

He put out a hand to restrain her, gripping her thigh painfully with his heavy gauntlet. She put her own tiny hand on the metal fingers, looked into the knight's face with a sorrowful smile. "This is the only answer, dear Arrack," she told him softly. "Father will mourn my loss, but He will not pine away as He has over Brianna. She must be returned, so that she may be queen one day."

"Do not take this course!" Sir Arrack demanded, in his passion squeezing her thigh so vehemently that she winced. "You are infected by the proximity of the Hist; your thoughts are not rational!"

"I will not send thirty women into the clutches of the Hist!"

"You would choose to spend the rest of your days as a Hist-thrall, like that thing there?" He indicated Glisten with a contemptuous nod of his head. "A slave to beasts!"

The Hist Broodmaster spoke then, and to Rhialla's ears the infernal hissing sounded more sinister than ever. "The implacable Broodmaster graciously accepts the human slut's plea to wear His collar and brand," said Glisten. "The slut Rhialla will disrobe and kneel before her Master; the slut Brianna will be released."

"Rhialla!" cried Sir Arrack, despairing.

"The decision is made, Sir," the Princess replied firmly. "Remove your hand."

Sir Arrack obeyed, his face ashen. Rhialla breathed deeply, a final breath of freedom, and climbed down from her saddle. Her legs felt wooden, numb, as she unclasped her woolen riding cloak and threw it back over the saddle. She bent and pulled off her riding boots and set them carefully aside; then she fumbled with the ivory buttons of her linen blouse, her heart in her throat.

The eyes of the Hist Broodmaster were on her, impassive and unfeeling. Glisten was also watching her, still clutching her breasts but now merely pinching the prominent nipples, an inscrutable expression on her pretty, gaunt face. The slavegirl Thistle was still devoting her full attention to the Hist gaurd; she had succeeded in coaxing a fearful appendage from beneath its scales -- a ruddy shaft ten inches long and as big around as her wrist, the end of which swelled into a bifurcated protruberance larger than her fist. She stroked the hideous shaft vigorously, panting with excitement.

Rhialla shrugged out of her blouse, baring her small firm breasts. She lowered her face, mortified, wondering if Sir Arrack were staring at her. There would be no reason for him to show decorum to a mere slave.

A slave! A slut, owned by a beast! Her nipples hardened, so hard they ached. She moaned inwardly at the fire which burned in her loins.

Her fingers trembling, she loosed the drawstring of her breeches, wriggled her generous hips as she pulled them down to her ankles. The knights, her former guards, were perfectly silent; but she was certain they could not resist gaping at her creamy nakedness, her tiny waist flaring into her magnificent buttocks. The fire in her loins burned hotter.

She stepped out of the bunched trousers on the ground, stood naked before the Hist Broodmaster. She had wanted to show one last shred of noble pride, standing erect with shoulders back and chin high, but she feared that such a display would provoke her Hist master. Instead she stood with head bowed, trembling, wringing her hands.

The Hist beckoned her forward and she approached the carriage with unsteady gait. Her nostrils were assaulted by the acrid odor of urine as she passed the ponygirls.

She sank to her knees, head still bowed. The Broodmaster spoke.

"The new slut will offer her teats to her glorious Master," instructed Glisten.

Rhialla, unthinking, placed her hands under her breasts and lifted their meager weight upward, toward her Master. The Hist bent toward her, its sinuous body curving down. Rhialla felt its tongue flickering against her face, tickling her cheeks and lips. On impulse she opened her mouth slightly, and her Master's tongue slipped inside. It was rough and dry, thicker than she had anticipated. She sucked it tentatively as the forked end stroked the roof of her mouth.

She indulged an indecorous thought about that tongue flickering deep in her loins, and could not contain a moan of delight and consternation. Already she was acting the slut for her Master, embracing that lascivious nature which she had always denied existed! Her head spun vertiginously, her loins grew wet.

To her dismay, her Master withdrew his tongue, spoke sharply to the slaves Glisten and Thistle.

"Yes, Master!" cried Glisten. "Instantly, Master!"

Thistle, who had been pleasuring the Hist guard with her severely undersized mouth, echoed Glisten's acknowledgement and rushed forward. Together the two sluts crawled on hands and knees toward the Human knights. They evinced even greater reticence than had Rhialla when she approached the Broodmaster.

"Hold!" said Sir Arrack, and both sluts immediately froze. "Before your foul demand is consummated, Broodmaster, you must release the Princess Brianna into my custody."

The Broodmaster hissed commands to one of the guards, who unlatched the Princess's cage. Brianna shrank from the Hist, whimpering, as it reached for her; it grasped a clawful of hair and dragged her moaning from the cage, threw her to the ground.

"Princess Brianna!" bellowed Sir Arrack, standing in his stirrups. "You are rescued, Princess!"

Hearing his voice, Brianna looked frantically about, and noticed for the first time the knights on horseback thirty feet away. She lurched to her feet and stumbled toward them, babbling incoherently of her capture and incarceration. She sprinted past Rhialla, taking no note of her sister, nor of Glisten and Thistle.

"Sir Arrack!" Brianna sobbed, wrapping the knight's armored leg in a fervent hug. "I knew you would save me, I knew it!"

"Clothe yourself, Princess," said Sir Arrack gently. "There are garments there, by your feet."

"Of course," she murmured, recalling her nakedness. She clothed herself hurriedly, but in such a state of distraction that several minutes passed before she had donned Rhialla's garments and mounted her horse.

"Take me away from here, Sir Arrack," she said weakly, gripping the reins.

"I will, Princess," Sir Arrack assured her. "But first we have one more task to perform." He looked at his knights, said distastefully, "Let us have done with those two filthy holes and be on our way from here."

Glisten and Thistle could not have been more eager to be put to use. They swiftly positioned themselves in readiness for the knights, lying on their bellies with their legs slightly apart, buttocks upturned sharply. Even Rhialla, virgin that she was, knew that this was not the ideal pose for intercourse; but Glisten and Thistle clearly lacked any previous experience copulating with human males, and were presenting themselves as they would to their Hist masters.

The thought was shocking to Rhialla. She imagined one of the Hist lowering itself like a lizard onto all fours atop one of the slavegirls, its bulk crushing her against the ground as its monstrous organ filled her. That odious image was frightfully arousing, and the heat which had been smouldering in Rhialla's loins suddenly blazed with a searing intensity. She moaned, her mind seething, her body shuddering. Seeking release, she sank two fingers into her torrid hole, found it willing and receptive, fairly drooling with lust.

She had previously touched herself down there on more than one occasion, but those had been timid, experimental probings, which had brought her more shame than pleasure. Now she was an avowed slut, a slave to the Hist, no longer bound by shame or decency; she abandoned herself to lubricious iniquity with the fervor of a neophyte. The pleasure of it swelled precipitously within her, threatening to shatter her when it finally burst. She groaned deeply.

Sir Arrack, meanwhile, had stepped down from his charger and was standing over Glisten's body. He had removed his codpiece, and his pale cock protruded from the mass of black hairs at his crotch. Glisten gazed up at him over her shoulder, panting with excitement.

"If I am to couple with a beast, then we may as well do it like dogs," muttered Sir Arrack. He bent and seized the girl by the hair, shaking her head fiercely as he lifted her. "Get your hands and knees under you, swine!" he ordered.

Glisten gasped and squirmed, clearly relishing the savage treatment. She obeyed Sir Arrack's instruction, and the knight shoved himself inside her without delay. He fucked the slavegirl ruttishly, his thighs hammering against her buttocks. She groaned with joy, thrusting herself backward in an attempt to maximize his penetration. After little more than a minute Sir Arrack stiffened, clutching Glisten's buttocks and shuddering as he spent himself. Glisten looked about in bewilderment, brow furrowed, as the knight stood up and stepped back.

Two other knights had now dismounted, and one of them took Sir Arrack's place at Glisten's quim; the other one took Thistle. Both men finished in under two minutes. The two sluts were left whimpering with frustration, obviously accustomed to far more rigorous and prolonged use by their Hist masters.

Within five minutes all six men had loosed their spunk, three in each girl. Glisten and Thistle were writhing on their bellies, moaning. Rhialla, watching it all, had not stopped masturbating. She groaned in her desperation to unleash the intolerable pressure which had mounted steadily under the impetus of her finger strokes.

Her Master began hissing, insistent commands which she knew instinctively she would do well to obey. She saw that Glisten and Thistle were crawling to the Master, answering his summons, but Rhialla could not take her hand away from her gluttonous cunt; her body was shaking uncontrollably, her orgasm imminent -- a few seconds, a few strokes...

The Broodmaster's lash cracked, and she felt its blistering kiss across her buttocks. Instantly she climaxed, screaming with pain and release, her body shuddering helplessly. 

Glisten and Thistle had prostrated themselves beside their Master's carriage; Rhialla scrambled to join them, urged on by an even harder blow from the lash. She was still cumming, her mind reeling in fear of antagonizing the Master.

Rhialla squeezed between Glisten and Thistle, her shoulders and hips pressed against theirs. She put her face to the ground, hands clasped behind her back. Her climax was subsiding, but the thundering waves of pleasure still resonated through her body, radiating down her limbs. She was weak and breathless.

She panted as she waited, her heart swelling with joy. When her Master spoke again, the sibilant speech did not seem so sinister, but insinuated itself almost seductively in her mind. She did not understand the words, but she knew they were being addressed to her.

Glisten translated, her voice muffled by the ground against which her lips rested. "Master announces that His newest slut will hereafter be called 'Princess'."

A new name, to cut her off irrevocably from her past and yet always serve as a reminder of it. She responded timidly. "Yes, Master."

The Broodmaster hissed at her in angry reproof.

"Master commands His slut to show more ardor," said Glisten. Her tone was sharper now; she was no longer addressing a Human woman, but merely another Hist-thrall slut.

"Yes, Master!" cried Princess fervently. Her throat constricted as she spoke, and her loins flared anew with unexpected arousal. Her Master brought his lash down sharply across her naked shoulders, and she squealed at the searing pain. "At once, Master!" she gasped. "Princess obeys!"

She flinched as her Master's whip cracked again, but this time it merely fell against one of his ponygirls' buttocks. The chariot lurched forward, turned back toward the Hist lands. The three sluts rose as one and trotted dutifully alongside their Master; never once did Princess look back at the small party of Humans returning to their bleak mountain enclave.