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The Disappearance Of Princess Cordelia

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Wragg

Wragg

Chronicler of Crux
Staff member
Being a Chronicle of the Silver River


The watcher stirred as a shaft of sunlight penetrated the gloom outside Heidraen’s North Gate, and lit up a lovely face framed by golden hair. His eyes narrowed as he sought to recognise the girl.

Aha! She was being followed by a fat slave girl. He realised this was Elise, a slave in the household of King Shevak, and so this must be Princess Cordelia! He hadn’t seen her for years, and, By Jedakk, hadn’t she grown into a beautiful young woman!

The two women rode into full sunlight, heading along the road to Ystragarth. The horses stirred up small cloudlets of dust, and the women drew shawls over their heads to protect themselves from sunstroke.

Where was her bodyguard? Surely Cordelia hadn’t set out alone? There had been numerous raids on traffic on the Ystragarth road recently by creatures from Draen, and few were unwise enough to set out without an armed guard. The watcher noted that the women had bows and swords, but they would have little effect on a full strength Draen raiding party.

He reflected on the value of such a prize. Cordelia was well known to be the apple of Shevak’s eye, he would bankrupt Aestria to ransom her if need be.

What to do? Follow, and put himself at risk? He had a healthy fear of Draen savages and trolls. Go and alert the palace guard? Possibly. But Cordelia must be up to something, to take such a risk. This could be the scoop of the century!

And so Wragg went and fetched his horse, who wasn’t at all impressed at being disturbed from grass eating, and he rode out into the hot sun.

He followed the women at a discreet distance.
 
Well, maybe it was their lucky day, for the women rode, unmolested, following the long, sweeping bend in the Silver River until they were heading due west. They had not met another soul on the road, really it was too hot to be out riding, and most sensible people were under cover until the worst of the day’s heat had passed. The Forest of Draen was now falling behind them, and with every step the danger lessened.

Then they reached the turn towards Hagen, and turned away from the main road. Wragg’s heart sank. Where the hell where they going?

The three great peaks of the Northern Mountains, Inge Tarant, Taryn, and De Mulloto, shimmered in the haze of the far distance. Here the road climbed up away from the river, but became more bendy as it wound through woods, pastures, and farmland. Sometimes the two women disappeared from view for a few minutes, and Wragg would be anxious for a while, until the road straightened and he could see them again.

They rode for another hour, until they must be within a few miles of South Hagen, and he’d lost sight of them in woodland. But he wasn’t worried, Hagen was a peaceful place, and the Draen never ventured this far. He glanced up as he saw a figure walking towards him.

This was the first person he’d seen since leaving Heidraen. A woman, it seemed, maybe she was just heading out to feed her sheep or something. Then he recognised her.

“My God!” Wragg exclaimed aloud. “Eulalia!”

He dismounted and knelt as the High Priestess came towards him.

“Get up, Wragg! What are you doing out here?”

“I, erm, I fancied a meal at the Boar in South Hagen, Your Grace! They have the best beer in Aestria!”

“Do they indeed?”

“Oh, yes. It’s a close run between them and the Rattington Arms, but this year they have excelled themselves at the Boar!”

“I must try it some time. I was hoping to meet someone else, have you seen anyone else out this afternoon?”

“It’s, erm, been quite quiet, it’s been a hot day…” Wragg was worried. “Surely you’ve just passed someone?”

“I knew it, Wragg, you are a scoundrel! You were following someone. Beer, my foot. You wouldn’t be out here on a hot day unless you were up to something!” Her eyes locked onto his. Wragg was sure she was reading his mind, anyway. He decided to come clean.

“I was following Princess Cordelia and her maid, Elise.”

“And I was expecting to meet them! When did you last see them?”

“Only about ten minutes ago – they were barely a quarter of a mile ahead of me! Might they have hidden when they saw you coming?”

“No, they might not,” she said, shortly. She climbed up onto the horse in front of Wragg, and then urged it into a gallop.

They galloped as far as South Hagen. Of Elise and Cordelia there was no sign.
 
Eulalia never swore.

“Shit!” she said.

There was a moment’s silence.

“Wragg,” she said, dangerously, “if you breathe a word about this, let alone print it, I’ll have you castrated. Do I make myself clear?”

“Er, yes, abundantly so!” stammered Wragg.

“Good,” she said, and closed her eyes.

“Cordelia! Cordelia! Where are you?”

Wragg watched, with his mouth slightly open, as Eulalia went into a trance.

Eulalia was silent for, maybe, two minutes. Then she said, “he’s done what? Oh my God! Do you know who he is?”

“OK, OK, Cordelia, just try not to panic….try not to upset him….we’re coming after you!”

Eulalia’s eyes opened, and she looked at Wragg. For a moment she sized him up, trying to decide if he’d be a help or a hindrance. She came to a decision.

“Come on!” she said, “there’s a Princess that needs rescuing!” She held out her hand. “Take my hand, and do not touch any other living creature!”

Wragg gripped her hand, and they turned. His horse was frozen, like a bronze statue, a few blades of grass sticking out of its mouth. A blackbird hung in mid air.

Still hanging on to Eulalia, they set out back along the road towards Heidraen. They re-entered the woods, and Eulalia steered Wragg around a squirrel that was frozen in mid-stride as it crossed the road.

“Eulalia?” asked Wragg, “I don’t suppose there’s the tiniest chance of you telling me what’s going on?”

“You’re right, no chance. I don’t want to end up on the front page of the Crux Chronicle!”

“What if I promised not to tell?”

Eulalia just said “Huh!” and fell silent.

“Oh come on! What’s with all this frozen wildlife? How come we are the only things moving?”

“It’s called a ‘Tulloth stone’. You wouldn’t understand.”

“So we are, like, outside time?”

“Yes, but if you touch anything larger than a gnat the shock will kill you, and whatever you touch. So don’t.”

Wragg needed no second bidding, and clung even more tightly to Eulalia. This was weird.

Then Eulalia said, “Aha!” There, on the left, was a path into the trees.

They went along it, then came out into a clearing.

“OH SHIT! NOOOO!”

Wragg stared, horrified, at the sight before him.

A large, sharp stake had been set up. Elise was naked, and tied to it, the point of the stake was already pressing deep into her belly, it was only the fact that she was a slightly larger woman that was keeping her alive. There was a look of sheer, utter, terror in her eyes.

The fat slave girl was being slowly impaled alive.
 
Wragg134 said:
Being a Chronicle of the Silver River


The watcher stirred as a shaft of sunlight penetrated the gloom outside Heidraen’s North Gate, and lit up a lovely face framed by golden hair. His eyes narrowed as he sought to recognise the girl.

Aha! She was being followed by a fat slave girl. He realised this was Elise, a slave in the household of King Shevak, and so this must be Princess Cordelia! He hadn’t seen her for years, and, By Jedakk, hadn’t she grown into a beautiful young woman!

The two women rode into full sunlight, heading along the road to Ystragarth. The horses stirred up small cloudlets of dust, and the women drew shawls over their heads to protect themselves from sunstroke.

Where was her bodyguard? Surely Cordelia hadn’t set out alone? There had been numerous raids on traffic on the Ystragarth road recently by creatures from Draen, and few were unwise enough to set out without an armed guard. The watcher noted that the women had bows and swords, but they would have little effect on a full strength Draen raiding party.

He reflected on the value of such a prize. Cordelia was well known to be the apple of Shevak’s eye, he would bankrupt Aestria to ransom her if need be.

What to do? Follow, and put himself at risk? He had a healthy fear of Draen savages and trolls. Go and alert the palace guard? Possibly. But Cordelia must be up to something, to take such a risk. This could be the scoop of the century!

And so Wragg went and fetched his horse, who wasn’t at all impressed at being disturbed from grass eating, and he rode out into the hot sun.

He followed the women at a discreet distance.
Click to expand...
This looks very promising Wragg. Pp hopes that The Chronicle has a reporter in Aestria.
 
Princess Cordelia Ross of Heidraen was more terrified than she had ever been in her life; more terrified, in fact, than she had believed it possible to be.

The events of the past hour had been beyond anything that even Eulalia had taught her to expect. One hour. She smiled, grimly, to herself. Just one short hour ago she and Elise had been riding happily towards South Hagen, expecting at any moment to meet up with Eulalia. They were aware that they were being followed, but as soon as she’d worked out that it was only that moron, Wragg, she’d ceased to worry about it.

She had been on high alert for the first hour or so of the journey. The undesirable residents of the land of Draen had been a thorn in the side of Aestria, and particularly Heidraen (the nearest city to Draen) for centuries. But she was confident that she was equal to any challenge from that direction; she had her archery skills, her trusty sword, and Eulalia had taught her spells that could fell a Troll at fifty yards. For a girl only eighteen years old, Eulalia had been more than impressed by her developing skills, and her commitment. From the age of fifteen, Cordelia had eschewed all thoughts of marrying some prince, and had pledged herself to following Eulalia and hoped one day to become as powerful a sorceress as Eulalia or Queen Penelope of Aestrador.

King Shevak had been livid. Her only value to him was as a pawn in his political machinations. He had in mind an alliance with the neighbouring kingdom of Svendia, so he’d promised Cordelia to the heir to the Svendian throne. He dreamed of one day occupying Draen and ridding the whole region of the Draenese menace once and for all, and for that he needed Svendian assistance.

So Cordelia had found it necessary simply to slip away. Shevak was never going to consent to her joining the Sisterhood. Today had been an ideal day – so hot that no-one was stirring, and she and Elise had slipped out of Heidraen, unnoticed by everybody except Wragg. Even Eulalia had been slightly wrong footed by her precipitate decision. When she had received Cordelia’s mental message Eulalia had worried about them being out alone, but she, too, was confident that Cordelia would see off any challenge from the creatures of Draen. So she had been content to meet up with her in South Hagen, a sleepy little place off the beaten track, and then they could go together and she could leave Cordelia in Erin’s capable hands up in Alfheim.

Like Wragg, Cordelia and Elise had relaxed as the Forest of Draen had fallen behind. They’d passed the road to Tara’s Cross, named after the place where her Aunt Taranthala had met her terrible death many years ago, and as they rode along the leafy lanes of Hagen Pastures she and Elise had relaxed and were enjoying the journey; admiring, as they climbed, the views across the Silver River Valley of the spectacular splendour of Mount Jedakk.

“Less than an hour and we’ll be in South Hagen,” she’d remarked to Elise. “We’ll go straight to The Boar Inn, get a room, and let’s have a bath together, shall we?”

The fat slave girl giggled with delight. She had recently started to really enjoy time spent with her mistress.

The road wound into some woods. A man, dressed all in black, was just standing there.

“Can I help you, sir?” asked Cordelia.

“Yes, please – is this the correct road for Draenbruck?”

“Yes, it is. Just follow this road down to a T junction, turn left, and then you will shortly come to a fork in the road, and you need the left fork.”

“Thank you. I wonder if I can reach there by nightfall, or if I should go back and spend the night in South Hagen? Do you by any chance have a map?”

Cordelia, anxious to please, dismounted and produced a map. “I certainly wouldn’t recommend travelling through the Forest of Draen after dark,” she agreed. She looked into the man’s face. “Oh!”

He had eyes the like of which Cordelia had never seen before, eyes that bored into her. Eyes that seemed to take over her very soul. She was gripped by a mental power that left her paralysed. Instantly there were dark figures all around them, she was grabbed, Elise screamed as she was dragged from her horse, and Cordelia was absolutely powerless to resist.
 
Cordelia and Elise were overpowered in seconds, gagged with hands tied behind them, and relieved of their weapons. They and the horses were led away up a path into the trees. By the time Eulalia came past, not five minutes later, there was absolutely no sign of them.

Cordelia gasped as they came to a clearing, about half a mile from the road, where there was an evil-looking sharp stake protruding vertically from the ground.

“Strip them!” ordered the dark haired man. His accomplices were also black clad, hooded, like monks, but each carried a fearsome looking sword, unlike monks.

Cordelia and Elise were soon stood naked before their captors. Cordelia was proud of her body, and she stood tall, but with a confidence that she did not feel. A couple of the ‘monks’ licked their lips. Elise whimpered in fear, her breasts trembling as she shivered despite the warmth of the afternoon.

Cordelia’s heart pounded in her mouth. Clearly this guy had mental powers, dare she try and contact Eulalia?

Once again his fearsome gaze rested upon her, and she decided that she dare not.

“I am Lord Vulcan, Master of Darkness!” he proclaimed. “I am here to avenge myself for what has been done to me in this land, I shall not rest until King Shevak and his vile harem of witches are dead, and I am the sole Ruler of Aestria!”

Cordelia mumbled in protest through her gag. She’d never heard of this man, Vulcan. She had no idea what his grievances were.

“You ask who I am? You DARE to wonder why I have the right to feel aggrieved?” He held his arms aloft. There were deep scars in his wrists. “One year – one whole year I was crucified, hung naked upon a cross on Mount Jedakk! See my face?”

His face, indeed, was scarred.

“Merlin, my sworn enemy, did this, he threw acid in my face, as I hung helpless. This was at the behest of your King Shevak. It has taken twenty years of black magic to restore my sight!

“I had them all at my mercy, - Barbaria, Little Siss, Roxie, Blaire – all of them, until Little Siss, or ‘Penelope’ whatever she calls herself here, used her sorcery and the power of her body against me!”

Cordelia frowned. She knew these stories, but from a slightly different perspective. Vulcan was speaking as if he was the Dark Princess….

“Yes!!!” Vulcan’s voice cut through her like a knife. “You are right! Well done! I am, or I was, the Dark Princess, now I am Lord Vulcan! Now I have more power, more ambition, and I am much, much, more angry!!! This time, I shall use the Power of the Cross against the Witches of Aestria, and this time I shall be triumphant! I shall crucify them all, and the tallest cross will be for Eulalia!”
 
“Get the fat one onto that stake!” ordered Vulcan.

Elise, despite her gag, screamed in terror.

Cordelia was getting angry. She glared at Vulcan. “No!” she powered the thought at him. “Leave her alone! Do what you want with me, but she is simply a slave girl, she has no part in this!”

Vulcan smiled, and approached Cordelia. He stood before her and stroked her face. Cordelia recoiled from his touch. “Oh, you are quite the sorceress! Using telepathy, and actually getting a thought into my brain! I must be more careful in future!”

He released a bolt of mental energy into the middle of Cordelia’s brain. She flew over backwards, and landed in a patch of brambles. The thorns tore at her bare flesh, but she was held there by Vulcan’s mental bond, powerless to get up.

“By the way,” he added, “I certainly shall do what I want with you. Thank you for the kind offer.”

She watched, helpless, as four men lifted Elise, and held her nude body, face down, over the stake. A stream of her piss ran down the back of one of them, but he did not react. Two more of the black monks tied her wrists and ankles to the stake, and then they lowered her, so that the point of the stake was pressing into her belly.

“She’s a big girl,” remarked Vulcan, “She’ll not last long. Now you know I mean business!” He addressed the monks. “Four of you, keep guard until she’s dead! The rest, come with me!”

He grabbed Cordelia’s hand and extracted her, none too gently, from the brambles. Two of the monks grabbed her arms, and she was frog marched out of the clearing, following Vulcan towards what she assumed was likely to be a long and painful death. “Oh, God,” she thought, “I’m only eighteen, I’m much too young to die!”

The woodland paths were strewn with old beech masts, which cut her naked feet. How far was he going to take her? There was a limit to what she could stand of this. Not that she had much choice.

Idiotically, she tried to read Vulcan’s mind, but he was wise to her now, and he had a solid mental shield in place.

“Cordelia, Cordelia, where are you?” Eulalia’s voice, in her head. Cordelia could have wept for joy. Vulcan showed no sign of responding.

“Eulalia, we’ve been kidnapped, in a wood, only just outside South Hagen. A really bad man. He’s stripped us both nude, and he’s left Elise impaled on a stake, with four guards!

“He’s done what? Oh my God! Do you know who he is?”

“He calls himself ‘Lord Vulcan, Master of Darkness’, but he says he once was the Dark Princess! He says he wants vengeance against King Shevak and all the ‘Witches of Aestria’ – including you! And Queen Barbaria!! Oh, Eulalia, I don’t understand any of this, and I am so, so scared!”

Eulalia’s thoughts were reassuring. “OK, OK, Cordelia, just try not to panic….try not to upset him….we’re coming after you!”
 
Eulalia’s grip on Wragg’s hand was vice-like. “Just calm down, Wragg, if we keep a cool head we can at least rescue Elise. She peered, carefully, up at Elise’s belly, then stepped back. “It’s only just broken the skin. Thank God for Tulloth stones – if she’d had to wait for us to come up from Hagen in normal time she’d be dead by now.

“Okay, draw your sword, but don’t strike till I say, you take front right, I’ll take front left. Ready?”

Wragg held his sword ready to strike. He nodded.

“Now!”

There was a wall of sound as, despite her gag, Elise howled in terror. The guard nearest to Wragg never knew what hit him, as Wragg’s sword flashed in the sunlight and the black monk's head flew off his shoulders.

Unfortunately it struck the other guard who whirled round and met Wragg’s thrust with a parry. Elise stopped screaming, amazed by the seemingly miraculous and instantaneous appearance of a couple of possible saviours.

Wragg was aware of Eulalia locked in mortal combat to his left, but his own adversary was giving him a run for his money. Sparks flew as swords clashed, and the black monk was clearly an expert swordsman. Wragg leaped back as the other’s sword whirled past him, cutting his tunic. ‘That was bloody close,’ thought Wragg, as the sword came back towards him. He ducked down and felt the slipstream of the sword ruffle his hair, then the point of his own sword was travelling upwards under the monks chin. He felt it crunch through the base of the monk’s skull and then stop as it hit the inside of the top of his skull. Game over for the monk.

Wragg pulled his sword free and turned to see how Eul was doing. She, too, had just killed her second monk, pulling her sword free from the screaming man’s abdomen, then beheading him with more mercy than he deserved.

Wragg grunted as he pushed upwards on the fat slave girl’s belly, trying to free her from the stake, then grunted again as Eulalia cut he ropes and he pulled her off the stake and they both fell over backwards. Fortunately his fall was broken by one of the dead monks, but that was still a lot of slave girl to fall on top of one.

A lot of very grateful slave girl, though. “Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you,” she cried, as soon as her gag was off, “I really, really thought I was going to die!” She smothered Wragg with kisses. Wragg was enjoying himself, by now, Elise was an attractive woman, and the kisses were bilateral.

“Ahem!” Eulalia returned the meeting to the agenda. “When you’ve quite finished, there is a small matter of a missing princess to be considered!”

Wragg grinned sheepishly, and helped Elise to her feet, then helped to round up some of the clothes which, by this time, had blown around the clearing. After a couple of attempts to put some of Cordelia’s clothes onto Elise, the job was completed, and Elise was fit to face her public.

Elise groaned at the pain in her belly. Eulalia looked worried. “We need to get her back to safety so she can rest and recover. But we need to get after Cordelia, too!”

“Don’t worry about me, I’ll be okay!” said Elise, but her pain was obvious.

Suddenly Wragg stared over her shoulder. “What he hell,” he pointed, “is that?”

They both turned to follow the direction of his finger. A huge black bird, bigger than anything Wragg had seen, had just taken off, and was heading north. “It’s not a bird!” exclaimed Wragg, “It’s a flying horse! It’s a huge flying horse! My God! Look! It’s carrying people!”

Eulalia NEVER swore.

“Shit!” she said.
 
In over sixty years, Queen Barbaria had never experienced a feeling which rivalled that of Little Siss’ tongue on her clitoris. Happily, Little Siss felt the same way about Barbaria’s tongue and her own clitoris, and as they were both nude, both in the same bed, and in the ‘69’ position industriously licking each other’s clitoris at the same moment, both were in a very happy state of near-orgasmic bliss and of total oblivion to the world outside.

Their moans of Sapphic delight grew in intensity, their tumescent nipples, pert breasts, and pre orgasmic flushes betraying the fact that each clitoris was generously sharing its joy with each entire body.

There was not a heartbeat between Barb’s explosive orgasm and that of Siss. The fact that they had had sex together thousands of times during their long lives did not detract one iota from the pleasure that they took in each other, and each time they stripped for each other felt like the first time. They may have been in their sixties now, but their bodies still looked like those of twenty-somethings.

Barb, who on this occasion had been on top, turned around, kissed Siss gratefully on the lips, then rolled over onto the bed and lay enjoying her post orgasmic afterglow. Siss took her hand, and kissed it. Gently, she licked the nail marks on Barb’s wrists. Among the many things that the two women shared was that they had both experienced crucifixion. Barbaria had endured over 18 hours on her cross on the plains in front of Ystragarth, Siss barely 18 minutes, but both still bore the scars, and both often awoke in the night sweating and screaming, only to realise, with utter relief, that they were not nailed naked to two beams of wood, but were snug and safe between linen sheets.

Barb, though she hadn’t known it at the time, had been pregnant with Shevak’s son Pilus, who had been born about three months before Shevak’s daughter Cordelia, whose mother was Barbaria’s daughter Roxandra. This was a series of events which had given a younger Wragg a great deal of grist for his journalistic mill, and the Crux Chronicle had carried a series of sensational articles. But within the Royal Household all had been forgiven. Barbaria had found it relatively easy to forgive the only man in Aestria who could reach her g-spot with his tongue, a feat which even Siss had been unable to achieve. Roxie, for her part, had taken Princess Blaire of Aestrador to her heart and to her bed and had had to get used to her erstwhile lover becoming her stepfather when Barbaria married him to become the Queen of All Aestria. Since when Barbaria had felt Siss’ tongue rather more often than she’d felt Shevak’s, though when Shevak and Barb could both spare a moment from Royal duties they still had fantastic sex.

The young Pilus and Cordelia had turned out to be fit, attractive, and well balanced individuals despite their slightly odd parentage. Shevak was both father and step-grandfather to Cordelia, but actually he was just King. So none of it really mattered.

“Eighteen years ago,” Murmured Barb, pensively. “Eighteen years since I was taken down from that cross and it still terrifies me. Shevak banned crucifixion in Aestria, partly so I wouldn’t come across victims on crosses, but never a day goes by when I’m not back on that cross.”

Sometimes Barb pulled Siss’ leg because of the difference in the amount of time Siss had spent crucified, but Siss had still experienced the terror of being forced down onto rough wood, of being forcibly held in position, and of anticipating the experience of terrible agony and being unable to anything to prevent it. She, like Barb, knew what it was to be stretched naked and suspended in front of a jeering, howling crowd. She had felt the impossibility of finding a position on a cross that was even remotely bearable, had felt screaming, tortured muscles protest, and experienced the cramps that could not be assuaged.

The two women hugged each other close, as they did whenever the black cloud of cruciphobia enveloped them. After about ten minutes they were asleep.

Suddenly Barb awoke with a start. There was a hue and cry outside her window. “Cordelia! Cordelia!”

Siss slept on, but Barb looked outside to see Roxie chasing around, beside herself with worry.

Barb grabbed a robe, then opened the window. “Roxie! Whatever is the matter?”

“It’s Cordelia! She’s gone! She hasn’t been seen since lunchtime!”

“Oh, Roxie, relax! You know what she’s like! She’s off day dreaming by the river or else trying to bend dinner forks by mind power.”

“Her maid has gone, too!”

Barb sucked her lip. She’d seen Cordelia and the Fat Slave Girl together. It was possible they were up to no good.

Behind her, Siss sat bolt upright in bed, sheets cascading from her lovely breasts. “What’s the matter, Eulalia?”

Barbaria watched her with concern.

“What? No!! Oh God!” Siss was rubbing the nail wounds in her wrists. “Oh, God, poor Elise, is she OK? No, I’ll bring Barb, and Roxie, and Blaire, and we’ll meet you in the Boar in South Hagen. Forget Tulloth stones, too dangerous for four of us, we can be there in less than two hours on fast horses. Stay there, we’re on our way!”

Siss looked at Barb. “Cordelia’s been kidnapped. Some vicious bastard called ‘Vulcan.’ Says he’s the Dark Princess reincarnated, or something! I’ll warn you now, he wants revenge on all of us, he calls us the ‘Witches of Aestria.’ Bloody cheek. “

As a reigning monarch, Barb never swore.

“Fuck!” she said.
 
Wragg134 said:
In over sixty years, Queen Barbaria had never experienced a feeling which rivalled that of Little Siss’ tongue on her clitoris. Happily, Little Siss felt the same way about Barbaria’s tongue and her own clitoris, and as they were both nude, both in the same bed, and in the ‘69’ position industriously licking each other’s clitoris at the same moment, both were in a very happy state of near-orgasmic bliss and of total oblivion to the world outside.

Their moans of Sapphic delight grew in intensity, their tumescent nipples, pert breasts, and pre orgasmic flushes betraying the fact that each clitoris was generously sharing its joy with each entire body.

There was not a heartbeat between Barb’s explosive orgasm and that of Siss. The fact that they had had sex together thousands of times during their long lives did not detract one iota from the pleasure that they took in each other, and each time they stripped for each other felt like the first time. They may have been in their sixties now, but their bodies still looked like those of twenty-somethings.

Barb, who on this occasion had been on top, turned around, kissed Siss gratefully on the lips, then rolled over onto the bed and lay enjoying her post orgasmic afterglow. Siss took her hand, and kissed it. Gently, she licked the nail marks on Barb’s wrists. Among the many things that the two women shared was that they had both experienced crucifixion. Barbaria had endured over 18 hours on her cross on the plains in front of Ystragarth, Siss barely 18 minutes, but both still bore the scars, and both often awoke in the night sweating and screaming, only to realise, with utter relief, that they were not nailed naked to two beams of wood, but were snug and safe between linen sheets.

Barb, though she hadn’t known it at the time, had been pregnant with Shevak’s son Pilus, who had been born about three months before Shevak’s daughter Cordelia, whose mother was Barbaria’s daughter Roxandra. This was a series of events which had given a younger Wragg a great deal of grist for his journalistic mill, and the Crux Chronicle had carried a series of sensational articles. But within the Royal Household all had been forgiven. Barbaria had found it relatively easy to forgive the only man in Aestria who could reach her g-spot with his tongue, a feat which even Siss had been unable to achieve. Roxie, for her part, had taken Princess Blaire of Aestrador to her heart and to her bed and had had to get used to her erstwhile lover becoming her stepfather when Barbaria married him to become the Queen of All Aestria. Since when Barbaria had felt Siss’ tongue rather more often than she’d felt Shevak’s, though when Shevak and Barb could both spare a moment from Royal duties they still had fantastic sex.

The young Pilus and Cordelia had turned out to be fit, attractive, and well balanced individuals despite their slightly odd parentage. Shevak was both father and step-grandfather to Cordelia, but actually he was just King. So none of it really mattered.

“Eighteen years ago,” Murmured Barb, pensively. “Eighteen years since I was taken down from that cross and it still terrifies me. Shevak banned crucifixion in Aestria, partly so I wouldn’t come across victims on crosses, but never a day goes by when I’m not back on that cross.”

Sometimes Barb pulled Siss’ leg because of the difference in the amount of time Siss had spent crucified, but Siss had still experienced the terror of being forced down onto rough wood, of being forcibly held in position, and of anticipating the experience of terrible agony and being unable to anything to prevent it. She, like Barb, knew what it was to be stretched naked and suspended in front of a jeering, howling crowd. She had felt the impossibility of finding a position on a cross that was even remotely bearable, had felt screaming, tortured muscles protest, and experienced the cramps that could not be assuaged.

The two women hugged each other close, as they did whenever the black cloud of cruciphobia enveloped them. After about ten minutes they were asleep.

Suddenly Barb awoke with a start. There was a hue and cry outside her window. “Cordelia! Cordelia!”

Siss slept on, but Barb looked outside to see Roxie chasing around, beside herself with worry.

Barb grabbed a robe, then opened the window. “Roxie! Whatever is the matter?”

“It’s Cordelia! She’s gone! She hasn’t been seen since lunchtime!”

“Oh, Roxie, relax! You know what she’s like! She’s off day dreaming by the river or else trying to bend dinner forks by mind power.”

“Her maid has gone, too!”

Barb sucked her lip. She’d seen Cordelia and the Fat Slave Girl together. It was possible they were up to no good.

Behind her, Siss sat bolt upright in bed, sheets cascading from her lovely breasts. “What’s the matter, Eulalia?”

Barbaria watched her with concern.

“What? No!! Oh God!” Siss was rubbing the nail wounds in her wrists. “Oh, God, poor Elise, is she OK? No, I’ll bring Barb, and Roxie, and Blaire, and we’ll meet you in the Boar in South Hagen. Forget Tulloth stones, too dangerous for four of us, we can be there in less than two hours on fast horses. Stay there, we’re on our way!”

Siss looked at Barb. “Cordelia’s been kidnapped. Some vicious bastard called ‘Vulcan.’ Says he’s the Dark Princess reincarnated, or something! I’ll warn you now, he wants revenge on all of us, he calls us the ‘Witches of Aestria.’ Bloody cheek. “

As a reigning monarch, Barb never swore.

“Fuck!” she said.
Click to expand...

First part sounds like a wild episode of the RR television production "Sex Lives of the Rich and Famous: As Told in Intimate Detail, and Liberally Illustrated with Authentic Clandestine Video Clips";):p

Second part is a clear call to arms. For nowhere in this fairy tale world that springs from the pickled and overheated brain of Wragg can be found a more vicious bastard of a villain than Vulcan :eek::confused:
 
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