DRAFT - Game of Boners / Dickgirl Dynasty

Lord Telin surveyed the scene below him. Many would say that it was a fine sight. A line of soldiers wearing steel plates on their chest and legs were forming an honour guard for a figure clad in what must have been the most beautiful armour in all of the realms. He stepped into the light, the rays of the scorching midday sun reflected off of the ornate gold plating and emerald jewels encrusted across every facet of the magnificent design, forming an array of colours which played over the faces of the crowd and the stone arena in which they had gathered. Anticipation hung in the air, as the hundreds of female faces watched expectantly, smiling and shouting, waiting for the fight to begin.  

Telin breathed in. The air up here tasted fresher, but it was still like breathing in a low-lit furnace, and he picked up his cup of wine from the side, taking a small sip to cool himself down. A small sliver of liquid trickled down his throat, and he took the cup from his lips. It was unpleasantly warm as well. 

The helmed figure strode forward with his sword raised, and some of the audience politely clapped. Others simply stared in amazement at this stranger from far off lands. 

Telin snorted. The local onlookers may have been agog at the seemingly mighty warrior in front of them, but he couldn’t hide his disdain for the antics of the figure below. 

He looked at his reflection in the cup of wine. A clean shaven, well groomed man looked back at him. His short brown hair and similarly brown eyes were common for his people in the East. Despite his small frame he could look stern to those who did not know him, and he preferred it that way. He liked to keep his thoughts to himself. 

Lord Telin set the cup down. No need to drink until business was done. 

He looked around the Royal box, isolated at the top of the arena, and shaded from the heat with a wooden roof. He didn’t like the feeling of being exposed up here on the balcony. It didn’t help that he felt naked without his usual chainmail, which was pointless in the heat of the desert, instead wearing a simple green tunic and black trousers. He crossed his toned arms over his chest and turned his eyes back to the figure down below.

Inside the frankly ridiculous and weighty armour, was Arthur, his Nephew, a spoiled brat, and potential heir to the throne. He watched as the figure strode across the arena sand, performing for a crowd that barely knew him, but who couldn’t help but be enraptured with his foreign enchantments and magnificent bejewelled presence. 

Telin took a deep breath and put his hands on the edge of the balcony, gazing out past the arena, into the exotic realm of Belinzar. His eyes wondered over the low, sand coloured buildings fanning out for miles, the strange trees, and the arid desert beyond.  The cloudless sky was a clear blue that gradually lost its lustre as it connected to the plumes of sand fanning out lazily over the horizon. 

He cast his eyes to the west, where the city connected to the Sea, and the reflections made it seem like two worlds were meeting each other, two vibrant suns shimmering in tandem. He could just about make out the largest of the boats as they set sail for lands beyond his knowledge, slipping into the vast unknown. He considered himself a well travelled soul, but there always seemed to be another step to take. Perhaps in the future…

For now he contented himself with being in a place that he considered one of the jewels of the world. It had been years since he had visited this wonderful land… Here again, it felt a shame he had not travelled alone. He might have enjoyed it more, had he not travelled with the Prince. 

2 weeks earlier

The figure down below swung his sword in a circle around himself and Telin groaned in frustration. He was at most times a dutiful but calm man, however many of the things that the youngest prince did made his blood boil. 

He looked up to watch his brother’s expression, sat opposite him, also looking down through the open window of the Fort. If fury had a face in that moment, it would have been Corvin’s. His weathered face was creased in unbridled hatred, and his fingers were pluming red where they squeezed the chess piece in his fingers. Corvin had been unaware that Arthur would be personally designing his own ridiculous flamboyant armour, and at great cost, without informing him.

His hair was beginning to turn grey at the edges, his beard lengthening, and though he still had a barrelled chest and strong arms, his belly was beginning to outgrow them. 

Outside Arthur spun around in his ridiculously heavy set of gold armour, sliding on the wet grass and scaring the servants nearby who scattered as he flung himself carefree around the courtyard. 

To Telin it looked ridiculous, as he strode across the grass, stabbing at imaginary enemies. The tall, pointed shoulder guards and huge boots were designed purely to heighten his five-foot four stature, and the long, heavy sword would leave him virtually defenceless within five minutes of fatigue-inducing swings. Not that he would even have expected the young prince to last anywhere near that long in actual combat anyway.  

Telin looked across at his brother. Corvin only got angry only when things went out of his control.

Arthur was getting out of his control. 

King Corvin was the older sibling by nearly a decade, and though Telin was loath to admit it, a truly brilliant man. They always played chess when Telin returned home, and their battles were fierce, although recently he had had a sneaking suspicion that his brother was purposefully holding himself back. 

Corvin uttered a curse under his breath and turned his attention back to the board. 

He placed

Corvin looked carefully, and moved his most powerful piece, the queen into an extremely aggressive position. 

“Do you remember Belinzar?”

“Yes.”

“Their queen?”

“The memory eludes me,” said Telin, tight lipped.

Corvin smiled. 

“Oh brother…. Surely you have come to terms with your defeat by now.”

Telin did not offer a reply. 

“Oh and I suppose the great Corvin would simply suck their giant cocks and gain their trust that way.”

“You speak like the unmarried man you are.”

Telin smarted. 

“I can say that I personally would not have challenged a ten foot tall women with supernatural strength and speed to a duel.…”

“Seven foot.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Seven foot. She wasn’t that tall.”

Corvin studied him closely.

“Ah, so you do remember?”

Telin ground his teeth. He tried to ignore Corvin’s bating remarks and concentre on the board in front of him. 

Telin’s pieces seemed strong enough. But Corvin seemed to have played an incredibly bold move, moving his second most important piece into a dangerous area. 

Telin studied the surprising move, eyebrow raised. It almost looked as if he was offering it to him. 

“That is a risky move, wouldn’t you say?” 

Corvin remained poker-faced. 

Telin looked through it. There seemed to be no other possible scenario other than the obvious one. 

He took the queen with a pawn. Now he had Corvin’s most powerful general in his grasp, with his own free to wreak havoc. 

Corvin looked concerned and Telin’s eyes lit up. Perhaps he really had blundered. Perhaps the white in his beard had also creeped into his ingenious mind, blinding it to the obvious dangers in front of him. 

He played a knight into the centre, attacking the space created, and Telin raised an eyebrow. A possible weakness? 

He dismissed it, bringing his rook to join the dance, as they traded quickfire blows, Telin bringing his arsenal to bare only to find Corvin’s responses slippery and evasive. All at once the crack from the Queen’s sacrifice was becoming a gaping hole as more of Corvin’s pieces lined up. The panic started to rise as the positioning of Telin’s pieces became more and more tenuous, his sightlines blocked, and his own powerful Queen a wrath, flitting round the edges, searching for a weakness that did not exist. 

Eventually the dam was breached, as Corvin in one stroke forked both his Queen and King in a powerful attack that left him with no defence. 

Crestfallen, Telin flicked the king away, defeated. Corvin sat back, a satisfied smile on his face.

“Tell me… is this some new trick you’ve picked up from your wife?”

Corvin’s smile creased. 

“Oh Queen Latharin has been in fine form…but no. I simply saw the solution… It was a necessary sacrifice.”

 “It was a dangerous gamble.”

“Brother… Even my most effective piece must still be a means to an end.”

Corvin looked out of the window, at the figure down below as he slashed his sword into the side of a stone statue, cracking the side. 

“Yes indeed, a means to an end,” he muttered. 

Telin’s expression changed to one of concern. 

 “This idea of sacrifice.. it did not come out of the blue did it?”

. Corvin’s mind was often an overlapping sea of ideas and problems. Sometimes solutions from one ocean could flow into the waves of another. He had maintained his rule through careful trading, diplomacy, and where necessary ruthless violence. Despite his intelligence, Telin often wondered whether Corvin could be a little too relentless when executing his vision. At least his Queen balanced his… excesses somewhat. 

“You don’t mean 

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Arthur had always managed to get his way, purely because the Queen doted on him, and it frustrated King Corvin, Telin’s brother, to no end. His wife was a benevolent woman, but she would bankrupt the entire realm of Dendiron before she said no to that little weasel. Telin’s thoughts drifted to his affection for the queen; so virtuous, so giving, so loving of her kin, but so helplessly, utterly blind to her son Arthur’s conniving stupidity. It was her one weakness. 

He thought often about what would happen if Arthur’s older brothers were not able to ascend to the throne. The image of him with that crown placed on his head, grinning from ear to ear, was unimaginable. The kingdom would fall to ruin if it was ever placed under his selfish and reckless watch. 

The figure down below was now slamming his sword into rocks on the sand, splitting them in two, hefting the sword up so high that Telin thought he might lose his balance and fall on his armoured arse. 

Luckily, Corvin and Telin shared a similar view in regards to Arthur: He was not fit to rule. Even as a prince he was too much trouble. It was rare and surprising that they both agreed with each other, as their usual relationship was fraught with conflict. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He watched as Arthur strutted back towards the guards who were filing away to take their positions up next to the royal box. Arthur had specifically picked out all of the shortest soldiers from their royal caravan for his guard of honour, so that his own unimpressive stature might seem larger in comparison. A buffoon, thought Telin, keeping his emotions from his stern face. 

Arthur had however made the crucial mistake of making a few too many missteps in his Father’s eyes. And so they had hatched a plan. It was not one that Telin enjoyed, but the King’s decision was final. The Queen was to be kept in the dark, uninformed that Telin and Arthur were far from home, and King Corvin had arranged to keep it as such. Arthur had been walking on thin ice for too long. 

Telin didn’t have many mantras, but one he tried to live by was to always tread carefully where the ice thins. 

Lord Telin looked out across the sizeable arena, observing the locals, overwhelmingly female with the odd male scattered here and there, plus a few of his own small caravan nearby that had joined them on their long journey. Telin could tell where some of his men were because they seemed to be having a very merry time of it, making a large amount of noise as they interacted with a group of extremely tall, beautiful ladies who were laughing and chatting animatedly. Telin was not a big or particularly wise man, but his leadership and camaraderie with his men was something that he cherished, a young veteran of many battles fought on behalf of Corvin and his Queen, and he wanted only the best for those who served alongside him. That included getting to know foreign cultures and customs, so he had given most of his men time to enjoy the city. 

He raised his eyebrows as a few of them seemed to be getting quite enamoured, spying a local blond lady finishing a huge tankard of ale and slamming it down in front of an amazed muscle bound man who had barely got through half of his own.. He smiled as one of the soldiers produced a small flower and put it behind a tall, dark skinned woman’s ear. It was hard not to fall in love with this city.  

He turned to look into the shade at the large engraved Golden seat behind him, and the smaller seats either side. This throne was far bigger than the ones that Corvin and Láranith sat on. He had to admire the size and strength of the Lothari race…. Their athletic superiority was undeniable. As was their attractiveness, he thought to himself as a squad of Lothari warriors jogged into the arena, forming their own honour guard formation. They were all around 7 foot tall, a mixture of pale, tanned and dark skinned women with light leather armour under white cloth, to allow them superior speed and mobility. Perfect light armour for the hot desert climates of their home. Truly, they were champion warriors in every aspect, fierce, powerful and blessed with extraordinary speed. 

Telin had only seen a Lothari warrior in combat once, and it had been first-hand… An embarrassing experience. Ever since, he had treated their abilities with the utmost respect. In addition to that, the warrior women of this land had a certain other physical trait that set them apart from other women, as Arthur may well discover, he thought. 

He waited in anticipation for the Lothari champion to appear, but a sudden voice caught his attention. 

“Is that a little grey I see in your hair…. Lord Telin?” The accent was thick, the voice silky smooth, and Telin’s fist clenched, knees suddenly weak. Memories flooded in and Telin found himself unusually heated, even in the boiling desert sun. She wasn’t supposed to be here. 

He turned to face a figure who was almost a full foot and a half taller than him, walking towards the royal box with 6 equally tall warriors in tow. Telin brought his gaze up into the intimidating and beautiful dark eyes of the Lothari Queen, Ashaki. She was wearing a similar cloth on her bust and waist as the warriors, but hers was dyed a light blue, less functional and in certain places more revealing, and she wore a simple silver necklace that made the eyeline stray to her pronounced breasts. Telin couldn’t help glancing at her bust, her nipples poking clearly through the fabric. Her long toned legs still looked powerful, one was hidden behind a ceremonial robe, the other open to the upper thigh, which would be considered scandalously revealing in his culture. For hers, it was almost a beacon of modesty. 

Queen Akashi was smiling, her caramel skin creasing slightly at the mouth, but still as beautiful as the day they had met, even if they had met under strenuous circumstances. 

Telin’s cheeks went an embarrassing shade of red, and he suddenly didn’t know what to do with his hands. He hadn’t had a clue that she would be coming here, and he couldn’t understand why Corvin wouldn’t tell him. Corvin always knew the details…. And this felt like an unusually large oversight. He felt embarrassment slide into his mind as their first meeting ran through his head, as it had done often over the intervening years. His public defeat at her hand was not something that he enjoyed brooding on. 

The warriors slammed their spears down, and one of them bellowed a call for the arrival of the queen, running to take their places either side of the royal box, hair flowing in the wind, skirted leather just barely covering their thighs. Their armour and clothing left little to the imagination. 

“Queen Ashaki,” he said, going to one knee and bowing his head in a respectful manner. 

She took one long finger and placed it under his chin, lifting it so he was looking up at her towering, gorgeous figure. 

“Lord Telin…. I think perhaps we should be a little less formal, no?” she said. 

He swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry, and he couldn’t think of anything smart or witty to say. 

She rubbed her thumb slowly over his chin. 

“No need to bow, and please, call me Ashaki,” she said. “Although,” she added, “it is not unpleasant seeing you on your knees for me,” she said, her smile warm. “Again.” 

Telin felt his cheeks burn, but also something rising in his undergarments and he quickly lifted himself up to standing. He couldn’t help the warmth washing over him as he stepped aside to allow her to walk to her throne. 

Ashaki sauntered slowly past him and took her seat at the centre, spreading her legs which caused Telin to lift his gaze directly to her eyes, lest he give her the satisfaction of observing her generous gifts. 

She patted the hand rest of the right hand seat next to her. 

“Telin…. I won’t bite, I promise” she said teasingly, as she lounged in her throne. 

“I’m not so sure,” said Telin, keeping his face straight. “The first time I saw you, I think I felt that bite pretty deeply.”

Ashaki’s face changed to a more sombre mood and her tone was firm. 

“You are a gifted warrior, one of the best I faced,” she said.

Telin snorted. “I don’t think lying is necessary… I think we both understand that had we not been in this arena, you could have torn me apart before I could even draw my sword.”

Ashaki smirked. 

“True…. But you lasted longer than anyone else who was put in that arena with me...in fact I was going to ask for a rematch”

“I politely decline,” said Telin. 

“In my bedroom.” 

Telin’s was rendered temporarily speechless by this last remark, and it seemed to please Ashaki immensely. He couldn’t help ogling at her beauty, taking in the flowing curves of her revealing outfit, his eyes surrendering as they honed in between her legs, which were purposefully positioned wide enough that he could see up underneath her robes. He glimpsed a huge bulge stirring in her undergarments and felt blood flow to his lower regions.

Ashaki stared at him with a knowing smile. 

He tore his eyes away and walked over to the smaller throne next to her, feeling shamefully aroused. She had bested him years ago, and she was besting him now without even lifting a finger. 

He took his seat, and thought it was comfortable he couldn’t help feeling odd sitting in a Queen’s chair, not to mention he felt like a child sitting next to Ashaki in her huge throne. 

A clatter of armour from his right signalled that Arthur’s honour guard had finally managed to reach the royal box, and they trooped to either side of it wearily. Some of them gawped up at the intimidating figures proudly standing with their spears in front of them, leaving no space for them to stand.

Ashaki looked over and shouted something in their language, to which the women slammed their spears on the ground in acknowledgement and spaced themselves evenly, allowing Telin’s men to stand in between. 

One of the youngest soldiers took his position at eye level with the shoulders of the women around him, his breathing already ragged from running all the way up from the arena floor. He had never seen a Lothari warrior this close before, and he looked up to his left in awe, into the eyes of a muscled, black skinned warrior. She looked down at him and blew a kiss, winking at him. The young man’s eyes widened in shock, and he nearly fell over as he adjusted his spear and held it in front of him. The woman turned to look at the arena, her grin wide. 

Queen Ashaki settled her gaze on the arena below, and called her Lieutenant, a huge muscled blond woman, large even for a Lothari. 

“Announce the duel,” she told her. 

Telin watched as the huge woman balled up her giant fists and began to bellow down to the people down below. The people listened and began to cheer as she shouted, and the honour guard began to bang their spears on the arena floor each time she finished a sentence. 

“You know, you don’t need to speak my tongue just because I am present,” said Telin.

She gave a wry smile, eyes still fixed on the arena. 

“Oh don’t worry; I’ll only use my own tongue when we’re talking about you….. My lord,” she said, emphasising his title. Somehow even calling him by his own title felt like a tease when Ashaki said it. 

She sat very relaxed in her chair, leaning with one foot on her thigh, her other foot lazily hanging down and brushing the floor. In Corvin’s world, Queens and Kings were taught to always sit with a straight back, and her laid back posture amused him. 

“I must say… I’m surprised any of Corvin’s sons would want to challenge one of my lineage…. did you not regale them with vivid and wondrous stories of our first meeting?” she said in a subtle mocking tone.

He fidgeted with his belt. “I may have avoided it,” he said looking away. 

She turned to regard him in his seat. “Mmm… you look very dashing in my Courtesan’s chair.”

Telin blushed even harder. “You… have a Courtesan?”

“Not yet,” she said pointedly. 

Telin wanted to stare down at the arena, but he felt his head turning to look up into her eyes. She was gazing down at him, with those dark brown pools of seduction. He couldn’t stop thoughts of her victory from running through his mind, her sitting on top of him in front of thousands of people, fist raised, as she rubbed her huge bulge subtly against his aching body. The image changed and suddenly he was imagining what it would be like to be in her bed chambers, her on top of him again, revealing what must be a huge cock, as she slowly brought it to his lips, gently sliding her hips forward…..

He dragged his mind back to reality and broke his gaze from Ashaki, furious with himself for having such stimulating thoughts about the only foe who had ever humiliated him. 

Ashaki watched his expression change from lust to anger with amusement. 

“You know Telin… Lothari custom dictates that I could have claimed you that day.”

Telin’s kept his expression level, but his jaw tightened.  

“Thank you for your benevolence,” he said sharply. 

“I didn’t want to though,” she said warmly. 

“Oh goodness, why not,” said Telin, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. 

“Because tonight you will give yourself to me willingly.”

Telin’s mouth went dry, rendered speechless again. His imagination had gone haywire, this time they were in the bed chamber again with her on top of him, and she was making love to him…inside him; face to face, moaning in each other’s arms. Telin gripped the hand rest of the Courtesan’s chair in arousal. Her words were playing his infatuation like a master musician, her touch making him sing. It felt like he was powerless, under her spell, just as he had been in the arena. It was as if she could turn him on and off with a whim. 

A huge drum echoed around the arena, saving Telin from Ashaki’s provocations, and they focused their gazes on the arena, both sporting uncontrollable /bulges/erections beneath their garments, to focus on the incoming Lothari champion. 

The crowd roared, as a young Lothari warrior strode out from the arena, through her guard of honour. Her hair was dark, drinking in the sun, and shaped in a long, tight ponytail which reached down to the back of her waist. Her fierce gaze was set firmly on the opponent who was still showing off to the crowd. Her stature, tall and lithe, was markedly different to Arthurs, and with his heavy armour on he looked like a squat, golden hedgehog in comparison. 

Her large lips were covered in white chalk, and she had further lines of chalk up her supple cheeks, still young enough that they hadn’t quite developed into the fullness of her adulthood yet. She held a long spear in one hand and a circular, dented shield in the other. Well used, noted Telin. 

Ashaki put her hand lightly on Telin’s as she turned to speak to him. 

“So, what do you think of my niece?” 

Telin felt the warmth in her hand, a slight roughness from years of handling a spear. His lip trembled. He mustered a response. 

“She… reminds me of you, the first time we met.” 

Ashaki smiled.

“I think you are mistaken…. Princess Rabihah is not as gentle as I was at eighteen.”

Telin raised an eyebrow. 

“I find that difficult to believe.”

Rabihah banged her spear against her shield, and roared, a coarse sound that belied her graceful exterior. 

Ashaki squeezed his hand gently.

“I take your point,” said Telin, his mind not focusing so much on the hubbub down below as Ashaki played with his hand, turning it over slowly, interlacing her fingers with his. 

Arthur’s demeanour changed as soon as he heard her battle cry. The grilled helmet looked up towards the royal box, and Telin could almost feel the uncertainty emanating from within the confines of the thick carapace. 

There is no-one coming to save you now Arthur, he thought solemnly. 

The squat armoured prince swung his sword over his head in a display of aggression, almost lifting himself off his feet, managing to control it at the last second. The crowd bayed for the fight to begin. 

Ashaki’s eyes flicked to Telin’s face, which seemed slightly on edge.  

He looked up at her, into her provocative gaze, and Telin drank in the feeling of being in her aura for a moment, and began to slowly rub his thumb in response across her skin as she circled his palm. 

“Care to make a wager?” said Ashaki, circling his palm slowly. 

Ashaki watched as his hand tensed suddenly, and the darkness in the centre of his eyes widened. 

Telin was used to heat, but he was feeling it intensely all of a sudden. 

“If your highness wishes… I have no choice but to accept,” he said, the hint of a smile creeping at the corners of his mouth. The thrill of the game only heightened his intoxication in Akashi’s presence, as her fingers drifted gently across his skin, slowly winding their way into his soul. 

and it felt like her fingers were slowly winding their way into his soul, drifting gently across his skin. 

His heart raced as he thought about Ashaki…and what he could win. Yes it was true that he had already lost a decent sum of money in the city in a few local establishments…. But now seemed like a good time to break his losing streak. 

Ashaki observed the glint in Telin’s eyes, and she felt his quickening pulse under her finger trailed over his wrist. 

“I believe Rabihah will beat your prince in the fourth minute,” said Ashaki. 

“I think third minute,” said Telin immediately, excitement coursing through him. 

Ashaki raised her eyebrow 

“You do not back your own blood?” 

Telin froze. 

Ashaki had no knowledge of Prince Arthur being a woeful fighter. She may rightly ask why Corvin had sent his son to lose.  

“I had not seen Rabihah before… she seems unusually impressive,” said Telin, a little too quickly. 

Ashaki’s fingers trailed back up to his hand and pressed a little harder into his palm then before. 

“I see,” said Ashaki, but her voice had taken on a steely note. 

Ice travelled up his spine.

The conversation lapsed into a stony silence. 

A small female announcer wearing a white robe appeared in the arena, raised on a podium opposite the royal box and positioned at the edge of the pit. Her voice rang out across the waiting crowds, and she began to state the terms of combat, but Telin was no longer listening. 

His head was racing. Ashaki could easily discover their true interests if he was not careful. If she discovered that Arthur was supposed to fail, their safety would be in jeopardy. He carefully rubbed his hand on the dagger in his belt. It would do little if he lost the good will of the Lothari Queen. 

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Outside the royal box, the young soldier from Arthur’s honour guard was trying not to let his gaze turn back to the gorgeous warrior next to him. Dale wiped the sweat from his brow, and focused on keeping his stance upright, expression sombre. 

A deep, female voice came from his left. 

“Ma aismak?” 

He turned his head, and the tall, dark skinned warrior was looking at him. Her large lips, smooth Ebony cheeks and large, beautiful eyes transfixed him. 

“Erm…. I….” Dale didn’t know what to say, as he had no idea how to speak to foreigners. He had never met one until this, his first campaign. 

She smiled softly, and brought a large hand to her chest. 

“Adanech,”

Then she reached her large hand and pressed her hand against his breast plate. 

Dale raised his eyebrow in confusion. She had a questioning look on her face and she repeated the gesture. 

“Adanech,” she said in a more insistent tone, pressing against herself, and then pressing against his breastplate with her long, steely fingers. 

Suddenly it twigged. 

“Dale!” He shouted and her eyes widened. She hissed at him, and gestured with her hand over her mouth. Dale remembered that he wasn’t supposed to be talking loudly so close to the royal box, and made an apologetic face. 

“Dale,” he whispered, gesturing to himself apologetically. 

She smiled, relieved, and ran the back of her hand gently across his cheek. He felt like he was going to pass out being stroked by such a beautiful creature, and he leaned his cheek slightly into her hand. She made a low moaning noise that came from deep in her belly. 

Dale realised it might be bad if he was caught relaxing on duty, and looked around to check if his other comrades had noticed. His eyes widened in shock. Things had escalated drastically from a few minutes ago. Garon’s eyelids were fluttering as the warrior standing next to him had her hand shoved down the front of his pants, and her expression was one of concentration as she pleasured they smaller figure. Garon’s brother Daron was in an even more compromising position, pinned back against the huge Lothari Lieutenant, her biceps flexing as she shoved her fingers into his mouth and pressed her groin against his back, humping him, her spear in front of him so he could not escape (although it looked like he wanted nothing but to be in her arms), with his armour laid on the floor next to the royal box. He was openly moaning as she explored his mouth, and Dale let out a gasp as he saw that there was a huge meaty cock rising up out of her small loin cloth-ish undergarments, and it was dribbling cum down Daron’s back, staining his undergarments. 

He looked back at Adanech in shock, and her expression had changed to one of deep unsated hunger. Dale mewled softly as the hand that was stroking his cheek clamped across his face and slid a large thumb into his mouth. A shiver went down the length of his body, and he moaned into her thumb, sucking it like a baby. 

“Dale,” said Adanech, staring him down with an insatiable expression. 

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Telin grabbed his wine and sat with his back straight. He felt like the air was warming around him, and Ashaki’s insistent fingers were massaging his hand more aggressively than before. Large, strong fingers.  

“Did I tell you about the customs of duels in this kingdom?” said Ashaki in an odd tone, as Talin’s right hand fidgeted with his cup. 

“Not beyond what happens in the arena,” he lied, chest tightening. 

Ashaki pursed her lips, her fingers spidering into Telin’s hand sending shivers into his body. 

“Then perhaps I should educate… You of course know the rules of victory; death, injury or concession, and the etiquette for a losing combatant, that they be treated with honour…. but would you happen to know what happens if a fighter is not worthy of the challenge… or perhaps dishonourable… or a cheat?” 

Telin’s heart was racing, and the ice was extending to every nerve ending in his body. 

“I do not know.” 

Telin was not a good liar, and Ashaki’s gaze became colder. 

“If they cannot fight…they become the property of their opponent… any titles, any royal claim, any ownership they may have, passes to their victor. To all intents and purposes they become their slave….”

Telin felt her finger press into the centre of his palm, this time with more weight behind it, pinning his hand against the wood. 

“So tell me Telin… Why would Corvin risk injury, death or slavery for one of his sons, and potentially bring my Niece into his lineage…. without my consent…” /disrespect the sacred rituals of battle, /our culture

Her voice had taken on a thinly veiled tone of fury. 

Telin’s body went into fight or flight, and his instinct was to turn and run in the face of her mighty strength. His mind turned as he thought quickly for a way out of his predicament. A fight would end in his immediate death or capture. If he told her the truth he risked the same. 

He tried to keep his voice level as he spoke. 

“He simply wants his sons to prove their honour in battle….. Arth..”

Ashaki reached down and grabbed him by the throat, pulling him up onto her throne. No one in the arena had noticed as she held him close, gripping his throat, and he desperately tried to pull her fingers from his windpipe. She paid no attention to his scrabbling hands. 

She controlled him and placed him down on her lap so that he was straddling her legs, his face inches from hers. 

“Is that a dagger in your belt, or are you happy to see me?” She said with a mocking tone and fury in her eyes as she reached underneath his belt. She roughly grabbed his cock which was still rock hard. 

“Mmm…” She massaged her fingers up and down his cock, making Telin’s knees go weak. 

“I’ll deal with this one later” she said smoothly, her expression softening slightly.

Telin groaned and she released his throat slightly so he could breathe easier. 

Her hand slid from his cock to the dagger next to it. Telin watched helplessly as she extracted it and gripped it lazily by the handle. 

“A rather delicate weapon for you, wouldn’t you say?” She asked coolly. 

Telin didn’t respond. He could still feel her hand around his throat, even if it wasn’t squeezing his windpipe anymore, and he was still shocked from her manhandling of him. His eyes didn’t leave hers as she slowly rotated the dagger between her fingers. 

Ashaki thoughtfully gripped the handle, feeling its weight. She could feel the fear and arousal coursing through Telin’s neck. It excited her. She felt it in her loins as her bulge became more pronounced, unbeknownst to him.

She mused over the weapon for a few seconds, turning it slowly, letting him stew. 

Telin watched for any glimpse of her thoughts, imagination running wild with what might be going through her head. 

After a few moments of him gazing fearfully into her eyes, she decided to put him out of his misery.

“I believe we can make this a little fun,” she said steadily. Her hands let go of Telin’s neck and he breathed heavily, leaning back on her legs. He rubbed his neck where she had hoisted him up. It felt bruised. 

“If your Nephew lasts four minutes, You will owe me a personal debt, and Corvin will owe a royal favour. That or I can throw you in prison.”

She looked him steadily in the eye and he looked back at hers, trying to keep his face from showing any humiliation. 

“And if he lasts three minutes?” 

Ashaki’s jaw clenched. 

“I shall forget that you brought a dagger to my royal box.”

Telin couldn’t help himself, but the bet sent a jolt of excitement through him. High stakes were something he could never walk away from.  

 

“And what if neither scenario happens?” 

Ashaki flung the dagger at the side of the royal box and it embedded itself deep into the wall, splintering the wood with a crack. 

Telin raised his eyebrows in shock. 

She looked at him sternly. 

“I suppose we’ll have to come to some sort of arrangement.”

He let out a small sigh of relief. At least she was still humorous… for now. He made to lift himself off of her lap, but immediately she grabbed his cock and balls and squeezed harshly. Telin moaned in surprise. 

Her face flashed with anger for a moment 

“You. Will. Stay. Here.” She pronounced each word softly and slowly into his ear, her domination over him clear. 

“Now tell me what your intentions are for, or I will remove your testicles and use them to flavour my wine.”

Telin made a high pitched whine. Her grip was latched onto his nether regions, and he could feel his balls being squashed together. 

“We….we want him to lose,” said Telin, whimpering.

Ashaki loosened her fingers.

“He is a spiteful, arrogant boy and…Corvin no longer cares for his antics.”

Telin grimaced and rubbed his balls, the pain fading to a dull ache as he spoke.

“He has let Arthur put himself forward for this duel because your lands are bountiful, your warriors strong, and your royal lineage closely guarded.”

He hung his head. Ashaki leant back and spoke in wonderment. 

“Corvin wishes for my Niece to take Arthur’s princedom from him, so that she may bridge the gap between our kingdoms…”

Telin nodded

“And teach Arthur humility,” he said.

Ashaki pursed her lips, deep in thought. 

“He would put my Niece in line for his throne?”

Telin nodded. 

“Third in line. She is preferable to Arthur as ruler of our lands” he said 

Ashaki grunted in amusement.

“I have to say… your brother Corvin certainly lives up to his reputation.” She looked questioningly into his eyes. “He must be very ruthless to gamble his own son’s life.”

Telin bowed his head. 

“It was not something I was happy with.”

The ache in his nether regions was slowly abating, and Telin breathed deeply, as much a sigh of being released from his secret as being softened from his pain. 

Ashika regarded him thoughtfully. 

“Well at least you were finally honest… but… I cannot forgive the fact that you still brought a dagger to my seat.” 

Telin’s eyes went wide again.  

“You will remain here until after the duel is complete….” 

She pulled him unceremoniously so that he was pressed up against a huge bulge in her crotch, whispered into his ear. 

“…. If you’re planning on putting another hard object underneath that belt, I believe I can supply one here for you instead.” She let go of his package and snaked a hand over his wrist, bringing his hand underneath her cloth. 

His hands came into contact with a huge, hard fleshy pole, sticking straight upwards towards Ashaki’s belly. 

She smiled softly at him as his fingers gently took in the sheer girth and weight of her extraordinary penis, and Telin felt his emasculation at her hands deepening. His mouth was open in shock. The feeling of it was like feeling the back of a stallion. The virility and power in it was inhuman. He breathed slowly as it flexed beneath his fingers, the taut skin jumping in his hand. 

Ashaki’s gaze became distant as she drank in the feeling of Telin’s petite hand gently brush over her giant member. He looked up and her mouth was slightly open, breathing deeply. Her cock jumped and the sheer weight of it sent a flash of fear down Telin’s throat and he quickly withdrew his hands from under her cloth, scared of her power, but more so… because he was worried he liked it. 

Passionate anger flashed across her face as he withdrew his hands, and Telin worried that she might grab him again, but thankfully she did not react, pursing her lips, eyes glinting dangerously for a moment. 

“Let us watch,” she said, her words like iron. 

Arthur huffed inside his suit. Sweat was dappled across his forehead, and he could feel it collecting in the crevasses of his undergarments. Through the slits in the grill blocking his vision, he could make out the Tall, long haired warrior opposite him. She was beautiful, and Arthur would usually have been trying to get into her pants, but this one seemed to be pretty feisty. He hoped he wouldn’t have to hurt her too bad. 

He smirked as he studied her revealing outfit. No greaves. No gloves. No Metal plating. Just some leather and cloth. 

Savages. 

He had to admire her guts for coming out to play with a prince of Dendiron. Maybe he would go easy on her for a few minutes. 

The announcer’s cries were whipping the crowd up to a fever pitch, and the crowd screamed as a huge drum signalled the beginning of the bout. The announcer turned a small sandglass, ready to toll a bell every minute of the bout. 

Rabihah set her spear into a small cleft in her shield, and began slowly advanced towards Arthur, who took a step forward, raising his sword in front of him, waving it from side to side like a shark’s fin, slicing through the water towards its prey. She was almost frothing at the mouth to attack having watched her opponent goading her, mockingly playing to the crowd, but she didn’t let it cloud her judgement, advancing slowly, keeping her stance close. 

She regarded the ornate armour and began searching for weak points to attack as she slowly closed the distance. There were small spaces in between the greaves, but she could not risk losing her spear if it got caught in between the metal. 

Her eyes looked over the helmet grill. Not possible to put a spear through there, but it could be a weakness. She decided to launch thrusts testing the armour. 

They two fighters closed the distance and then Rabihah was upon him. Her first spear jab ricocheted off of a pointed shoulder guard. Her second and third clanging off of Arthur’s legs, his head. 

Arthur felt the force of the blows and staggered slightly, but the sheer density of the armour kept him safe. He adjusted to a wider stance and swung his sword in an arc, but Rabihah had already flitted out of range. Arthur had barely seen her attacks, but the armour was well forged and was barely marked by the strikes. 

Up above Telin watched as Rabihah circled her prey; the squat armoured figure jabbing with its sword if she got too close. It was hard to concentrate when he was sitting on Ashaki’s lap. He tried not to think about what an emasculating position he was in, and how good Ashaki’s perfume smelt. Her thick thighs were quite amenable to sit on, and it was worrying how nice it felt. If he was leaning back he might even have considered it luxurious, but he knew that would involve getting closer to other appendages. 

It looked as if things would be over fairly soon if Rabihah managed to find the openings in the armpit and knees. He prayed that she was as effective as he had heard. 

He turned his head back to look at Ashaki and perhaps ask for her forgiveness, and to ask what perfume she was wearing, but when his eyes met hers they were met with a stony look. He turned back swiftly and kept his gaze fixed on the arena. He could feeling her eyes drilling into the back of his head and prayed for the fight to end soon.

Behind him, a sly smile formed at the corners of Ashaki’s mouth as Telin watched on unaware, seated on her thigh to best avoid her bulging crotch. All in good time, she thought to herself. 

It was turning out to be an enjoyable day.

Arthur closed his eyes and tried to shake himself back into action. His head was ringing as Rabihah had just struck a series of blows to his helmet, shifting his centre of gravity backwards, and he took a step back, his armoured boot crunching into the sand. He swung his sword again, but the arcs were getting lower to the ground, the weight of it becoming too much for his fatigued muscles. 

He tried a desperate poke at Rabihah and she didn’t even move out of the way, disdainfully swatting the weak thrust aside with her shield, almost disarming him. 

A bell tolled out across the ground, signalling that a minute had passed. Far up above them, Telin started to sweat. 

Arthur wheezed. The armour was burning against his skin, and the air was becoming so hot he thought he might faint, but he knew without it he was a dead man. Rabihah was powerful and fast. She could not get through his armour yet, but the longer the fight went on, the weaker he became. It was only a matter of time. 

He gritted his teeth. He needed to find a way of attacking her quickly, something that she could not so easily see coming, or perhaps a way of luring her in. He looked around the arena, and saw nothing but rocks and sand. 

He looked down at the ground and peeled his eyes. Perhaps that was enough. 

Arthur started to gesture for Rabihah to come to him. He shouted obscenities and thrust his groin, although doing so in a suit of armour was difficult at best. Anything to goad her on. 

“Come on, you savage cunt!” he leered. 

He was unsure if she could understand him, but she seemed to get the message. 

Rabihah slammed her shield with her spear and roared, and the crowd cheered as she darted to his side and launched a primal flurry of blows on Arthur’s flank, battering at his shoulder and arm. Arthur tried to defend with his hand, and one of the blows dislodged his glove, leaving it exposed. He twisted away so that his open hand was on the opposite side, but Rabihah paid it no heed, wildly smashing her spear repeatedly into his other side instead. Arthur staggered, unbalanced by the attack and dropped to a knee, his ungloved hand going to ground to stop himself from keeling over. Rabihah was lost in a haze of fury and leapt forward, aiming a brutal thrust to the abdomen, penetrating in a gap between the plates. 

At that moment, Arthur twisted his body, the spear piercing into his body close to his hips making him shriek with pain, snapping the spear head from its body, whilst in the same motion throwing the hand of dirt and sand that he had managed to grab in his right hand into Rabihah’s face. 

Rabihah sputtered as the dirt and sand covered her eyes, and she was unable to dart away having overcommitted to her lunge. She fell on top of him, cutting her arm on his sword, her shield useless on the other side. 

Members of the crowd screamed and gasped as they saw blood on Arthur’s sword, and up above Telin and Ashaki were both stunned. This was an unexpected development. 

She grunted in pain, and grabbed for his arm to prevent him aiming a true blow, still blinded by the sand. Arthur pulled her backwards and over him, carrying him with her, so that she hit the dirt hard, and he rolled on top of her. He tried to punch her with his right hand but without his metal glove the blow felt like trying to hit a muscled brick, and with his sword hand immobilised in her tight grip, he was in danger of being overpowered. 

A loud bell rang out in across the arena as the scrapped in the dirt, no longer the glorious combatants of before but two desperate figures fighting like wild dogs in the desert.

She snarled and blinked the sand painfully out of her eyes, grabbing both his arms, pushing them to the sides. Arthur panicked, but after a few seconds he was hit by a another idea. He let his weight fall. The heavy plated armour crashed into Rabihah’s chest making her gasp as it winded her, the pointed guards and ornaments cutting into her flesh. 

She gritted her teeth and hissed as they came face to face, and she saw the young, freckled boy inside the helmet, inches from her nose. She looked in shock at her foe, disbelieving at how young he was, probably the same age as her. Arthur’s green eyes burned with rage, his large lips quivering, and he tried to bring himself up so he could land another body blow with his chest plate onto her torso. Rabihah snapped out of her reverie as he lifted up, bridging with her body so that suddenly Arthur’s whole suit was being lifted up by her hips. She bucked to the side and sent him tumbing onto his back, and she scrambled onto him and slamming her shield into his helmet, which made Arthur’s vision swim. 

He tried to swing his sword but she batted it with her shield and it tumbled away from him. He tried to push her off him but the fatigue and the wound in his side was sapping his strength, and she barely registered it as she began to uppercut the edge of her shield into the chin of his helmet. 

Up above, Telin watched, eyes wide. His eyes glanced at the sand timer. 3 minutes was almost up. His heart was pumping, and the thrill of the wager was making him giddy. A hand softly stroked his hair, unnoticed by Telin who was completely focused on events down below. Ashaki’s eyes were elsewhere, lost in chocolate waves. It felt thick, like she was running her hands through honey, she thought mildly to herself. 

Down in the sand, Rabihah’s first blow had shoved Arthur’s helmet halfway up his face. The second clipped his nose as the helmet flew off his head, revealing the tiny figure inside, hair plastered to his face, nose bloody. Arthur tried to put his hands up in front of him, cowering. 

“I Yi…!” 

He didn’t have time to finish the sentence as Rabihah slapped her right hand over his mouth, covered in crimson from the deep sword wound, and began battering her shield against his breastplate. Except she wasn’t hitting him. The metal clanged against it, and the crowd bayed for blood, but Arthur barely felt it, his arms raised in confusion as she pulled her hand from his mouth and grabbed his arm, bringing it to her throat. 

Arthur watched confused, catching his breath as she pretended to be getting choked by him, still stinging her shield against his breastplate in loud, clanging gestures. 

Up above Telin’s eyes widened. 

“No… no… Why isn’t she ending it? This doesn’t make sense!” he muttered, gesturing at nothing in particular. 

He watched as she avoided landing a killing blow. The crowd was still urging her on,  as if the fight was still close-fought, but he knew a beaten man when he saw one. 

He slammed the side of the throne and rocked on Ashaki’s lap. 

“She’s won! This is ridiculous! Ashaki we must stop …”

A hand snaked to the back of his neck and wrapped around it firmly, squeezing. 

Ashaki’s voice was calm, which seemed somehow to make her even more intimidating. 

“The Lothari way is whatever I deem as such. You are in foreign lands now Telin, and the ice grows thin indeed in the desert, my Lord.” 

Telin’s senses came back to him, and he breathed carefully, raising his hands into a sign of peace. 

“I apologise Ashaki,” he said, “I forgot my place.” 

“My name is Queen Ashaki,” she said with a hint of disdain to her voice, “and yes… you did.” 

Telin could not see the small smirk on her face as she said it. 

He closed his eyes in dread. In his current situation, their mutual attraction may well be the one thing that saves his life. 

“Queen…queen Ashaki, please forgive me,” said Telin. 

She pretended to consider it, whilst she felt his pulse racing in his jugular. Her cock was so hard that she wanted to bounce him up and down on it all night, but she kept her tone harsh when she responded. 

“I believe your fate will be decided in a few moments, Lord Telin.”

At that moment the bell tolled in the arena, signalling the fourth minute. 

Down in the sand, Rabihah’s ears pricked and she dropped her shield, grabbing his hand from her throat and wrestling with Arthur, back and forth in a brutal struggle. Except for Arthur it wasn’t a struggle at all, watching like a passenger as she rocked left and right, holding Arthurs limp arms and controlling them, as the crowd screamed for her to finish. The wound in his side was screaming, and he thought he might pass out. He was nothing more than a puppet for her to enjoy. Eventually after some further grunts and groans, she balled up a fist and punched his right cheek, pulling it at the last second so that it was no harder than a gentle slap. 

The crowd cheered as she balled the fist above her head, pushed her bloody hand down on his head, his arms dropping to his sides, and she held his head against the dirt. The crowd screamed as their champion knelt triumphant over her foe. Arthur felt spiteful fury course through him as her weight pressed against the veins in his head, trembling with anger as she drank in the crowd’s chants. 

A few seconds passed, and the huge drum sounded, signalling the end of the contest. 

Slowly, she let go of his head, and Arthur slowly turned his head to her. He watched as she drank in the adulation of the crowd, still sitting on top of him. People were cheering and hollering for their warrior princess. The announcer began to shout out to the crowd, declaring the victor. Anger and humiliation coursed through Arthur’s body, and the pain of his wound seemed to make the fire a blaze that shot strength from somewhere deep inside into his desperate limbs.

Rabihah was unaware and continued to take in the crowd’s adulation, still sitting atop Arthur. 

Snarling in a fit of fury, he lifted his still armoured left hand, grabbed a hold of Rabihah’s arm, and pressed into the bloody wound caused by his sword. 

Rabihah let out a moan of surprised as he pressed the metal glove into her arm, and she looked down with a pained expression at her arm which was now bleeding freely, down her arm and onto the armoured gauntlet that had it in a viscious grip. 

The crowd gasped in horror and dismay as they watched Arthur, seemingly back from the dead, wound their warrior. Someone in the crowd screamed. 

Arthur tried to squeeze down on the wound, to cause as much pain as possible. She let out a long keen of pain. 

People in the crowd began to shout. The crowd began to ripple, like a flock of crows to a carcas, a mob of voices that began to vent louder and louder as Arthur tried to pull the princess down into the dirt.

Rabihah looked down at her wound, and down at Arthur, his face curled up in a snarl. She grabbed his arm with her free hand and pulled it from her arm, and her bloody limb hung freely, limp from her side.

The crowd bayed for blood. They screamed at Rabihah to destroy the arrogant foe, began to throw food and stones into the pit. 

Telin gripped the edges of the throne as watched the Lothari people down below crying out for the death of Arthur. He looked into sea of women in the front rows, their wrathful gazes and balled fists, and saw a danger they had not foreseen. There would be no controlling a crowd of this size if they found their way into the pit. 

Rabihah meanwhile was staring, enraged at Arthur. 

“You will pay for that,” She said. 

Arthur jutted his jaw out. 

“Bitch,” he said nastily. 

She gritted her teeth, her eyes like razors as she balled her fist. The punch that hit him connected like a train across his chin, and a tooth came free in his mouth as his head was whipped to the side. 

Arthur’s lights went out in an instant, and his arms dropped in an instant, blood trickling from his mouth. 

Rabihah stood up and spat on the dirt next to Arthur. As admirable as his defiance had been, it would not bode well for him when he awoke.  

The crowd exploded as their champion rose triumphant from the clutches of the traitorous foreigner, and they began to chant her name as she walked slowly towards the exit. 

“Rabihah! Rabihah!”

Up on the balcony, Telin only had eyes for the the prone figure lying on the floor, watching the doctors run to the Prince.

He watched intently as they crouched over him, and he peeled his eyes, trying to see any signs of movement. The wait was agonizing. He felt gentle pressure in his shoulders, and two solid thumbs began to slowly rub his tendons and muscles, releasing a knot of tension that seemed to have built up in his stomach.

He tried to look for any sign of movement down below, and none was forthcoming. 

After an agonizing wait, the doctors step back.

Telin’s eyes peeled and he lifted off of Ashaki’s throne to look closely at the small shock of ginger hair. 

He watched as the figure raised an armoured hand, and slowly sat up. It was hard to see from his position, but he was moving and Telin breathed a sigh of relief. As much as the boy infuriated him, he still cared about his welfare. 

Ashaki moved around him. 

“I am impressed with your Nephew’s abilities…. It seems your blood does flow in his veins.”

Telin nodded slowly, his face serious. 

He had far exceeded his expectations in the ring, and he had shown a defiance that Telin had not seen before. In this case though, it would cost him more than he realised.  

He did not turn his head for a long time

, she fell on top of him, and ripped off his huge breastplate straps, revealing the small frame within. 

She held it aloft, and 

He is de-armoured, throws a rock at her. Hits her head. 

Ashaki

Telin

Arthur

Ginger hair, freckled, girly lips, green eyes

Spoilt brat

Cunning

Mischievous 

Competitive

Somewhat intelligent

Mysoginistic

Racist

Womaniser

Rabihah

Black haired, long ponytail

thin cheeks, not quite full

The last soldier still awkwardly standing guard looked over at the statuesque warrior next to him, the only one who had remained motionless and seemingly unperturbed by the sounds of her colleagues battering away at the young men.

He nudged her on the shoulder and smiled cheerily.  

She stared down with a hint of disdain, and put two fingers to her lips, licking the spot at the top. 

The soldier immediately understood the reference and he nodded awkwardly, cheeks red, as he turned his head back to the arena. Embarrassment coursed through his body as the sounds of sweaty lovemaking took place a few metres away. 

CUTTING BACK TO THE GUY

The young soldier watched as the Lothari warrior flew around the ring, the young prince unable to even get close to her with his huge broadsword. The Lothari warrior flung a first spearing jab at the armour and 

“Ma aismak?” 

Telin took his hands from the wooden front and rubbed an old wound under his tunic. At thirty five years of age, they were taking longer to heal. He wasn’t getting younger, he thought to himself. 

They would sneak Arthur out under the pretence of him besting a foreign prince in combat, and thus win a foreign prince’s fealty for the King. This relied on them leaning on Arthur’s personal delusions of grandeur which had been almost too easy, and together they had snuck him from the palace and out of the kingdom. 

What Arthur did not know however, was that the ‘Prince’ he would be facing was in fact a princess. An unusual princess, from a race of warriors, in a land that had certain unusual mating customs and rituals. One of those decreed that whoever bested the other in a lawful duel, would be able to take the vanquished foe as their Courtisan or even marry or enslave them if they so choose. And so Corvin had brokered an agreement between the Warrior queen and themselves.

The crowd cheered and Queen Ashaki waved to them before nodding to her lieutenant to announce the fight. 

As he did so, he heard the muscled blond lieutenant began to call to the crowd, announcing the combatants in their flowing, poetic language of their people. 

The Lieutenant had just announced the visitor to polite but stilted applause, and the crowd excitement started to build as she began to introduce the royal fighter that would be representing their people. The 

A 

She placed her hand on his one as she was talking to him, and he decided not to tell her to put it away. She squeezed it 

He stood next to a figure who almost matched him for height whilst being seated, partly because of the throne that raised her up a few inches, but also because of her tall and muscular stature. 

By her throne rested a long, thin sword that

Arthur thinks he’s fighting a woman. Knows nothing of the warrior shemale race. 

Telin was beaten by the Princess.