OWNERSHIP DISCLAIMER : The characters of Xena and Gabrielle and some others belong in their entirety to Universal/MCA, Renaissance Pictures, and all the other powers that be. No copyright infringement is intended. I wrote this story at the urging of my muse; it should never be used for profit.
This story was inspired by one of the best writers out there, DarkAngel. Hers is my favorite Conqueror story. It is simply brilliant. I passionately recommend you read it. Here is where you can find it:
LOVE/SEX WARNING/DISCLAIMER : This story involves both love and sex between two adult women. If you're under 18 or if this type of story is illegal in the state or country in which you live, please do not read it.
VIOLENT/NON-CONSENSUAL SEX WARNING/DISCLAIMER: It is a story portraying a Conqueror/slave relationship, so it would appear non-consensual at first. As for sexual violence, there are scenes (In parts 3 and 4) which are detailed and graphic, and may not suite some readers.
SPECIAL THANKS : My humble most ardent gratitude to the excellent, most brilliant Beta reader nancyjean , whom I can't thank enough.
Comments & Feedback : MOST WELCOMED.
It was on the day of the festive military parade that marked the 6 th anniversary of the Conqueror's reign. The streets of Corinth were colored red and black with the great Destroyer of Nations' banners, which billowed in the warm wind. The masses that gathered in the main square to catch a glimpse of their Sovereign roared her title, as the Conqueror inspected her Imperial Guard that stood at attention.
When she'd been but a young woman of twenty-four, she'd overthrown Athens ' corrupted regime and overpowered warlords within and enemies surrounding Greece and gave her people law and order, peace and prosperity. She'd assembled and trained the Army of the People and her subjects had been able to thrive under the blanket of protection, which she'd been providing them for years. The Conqueror was the lawmaker and chief Justice of the Realm, and presided over all capital cases, and her brand of justice was swift and harsh, but fair and impartial.
When the parade was over and celebrations begun, the Conqueror, accompanied by her second in command and two of her garrisons, were roaming the streets and markets of the city, allowing her subjects' adjacent adorations.
The separatist Conqueror was in high spirits that day and extremely generous with her spending. Upon arriving at the slavers block, she decided on an impulse to purchase a body slave. She wasn't in the habit of keeping body slaves, and when her private needs demanded it, she either rented a professional or seduced an amateur. Her extraordinary and depraved sexual appetites and exploits were well-known throughout the Realm, and it only added to her ever growing reputation. It seemed that the more virile in that regard her soldiers thought her to be, the more powerful and formidable they believed her to be and their respect and admiration ran even higher. Her battle lust made her as legendary as her sword and war strategies had.
All forms of slavery were illegal in the Realm upon the Conqueror's decree – all but one – selling yourself or your progeny in order to pay off a debt.
On the slaver's platform, standing in an array of body servants, was a young slave of small stature, no older than 18 summers. A ray of sunshine reflected from the Conqueror's golden armor caught her attention. She threw a brief glance and saw the Conqueror, dressed in full regal battle attire, with her golden crown on top of a long raven-black mane, steadfastly approaching the platform.
The small skittish slave caught the Conqueror's eye for she was the only one with golden hair amongst the line of slaves and by far the most to her liking. But, wishing to savor the experience of acquiring a body slave, the Ruler decided to take her time and closely inspect the entire stock on display, though her mind had been made up.
Keeping the Conqueror's reputation in mind, the fair-haired slave downcast her eyes, and as she tried her very best not to draw unwanted attention to herself, she remembered the only other occasion on which she had seen the Conqueror. It was right after the Conqueror had defeated Greece 's last enemy, Rome , and Greece 's existence had finally been secured. It was the day of the Conqueror's enthroning, and the slave had been a dozen summers old back then, so innocent and naïve; it was almost laughable to her now. The Conqueror had paraded her troops through Corinth 's gates victorious. It had been a demonstration of pure power. Tens of thousands of Greece 's sons and daughters had gone out to meet their deliverer.
Perched high up on a wagon that carried various provisions, the young flaxen girl had gazed at the Destroyer of Nations quite sure she had been watching the Goddess of War, exuding raw dominance and might yet maintaining her stance before her people with a swordsman's grace. The girl sensed an awakening of unfamiliar longing. She distinctly recalled thinking back then that it was possible for young women to be in control of their own destiny. What she hadn't realized, what would have become apparent to her later on in life, was that the Conqueror wasn't the rule but rather the exception to the rule.
A large dark shadow blocking the sun's warmth from reaching her scantly clad body put an abrupt cease to the slave's thoughts. With her gaze buried in the ground beneath her feet, the slave saw two large feet in shiny black leather boots. She felt a long callous finger run down her neck and she couldn't suppress a shiver. She felt the finger settle under her chin and her head slowly being lifted up, and for a brief moment her green eyes met the Conqueror's blue ones. An involuntary thought sprung to the slave's mind that the color of the Conqueror's eyes was an affront to the sky and the ocean.
As the Conqueror towered over the slave, she reached for the tag around the latter's neck stating her age, the names of her two previous owners and her price. As the Conqueror perused the small parchment, the slave felt sudden shame that the tag didn't even state her name, but quickly got over it. She was a slave. Given her function, her name was not a pertinent piece of information.
" Seven hundreds…that's a tad steep for a slave of her age," the Conqueror addressed the slaver. She had never haggled with traders. She believed it to be vulgar, especially for a Ruler of her stature, but curiosity got the better of her.
"She was hardly ever used, my Liege ," he answered as he nervously danced around the Conqueror.
The Conqueror took another quick look at the tag. " Her first owner… ?" the Conqueror inquired as she noticed that the white skin of the slave had not a single mark on it.
As the Conqueror and slave trader casually conversed over her head, as if she was not there, the slave realized that even though she stood on a platform, the Conqueror was much higher than her, a good foot higher.
"A well-renowned healer, my Liege . She was 13 summers, back then, and so she was bought for domestic labor only," he replied. "After she had sprouted breasts, the Lady of the house caught her husband fondling her and the girl was resold."
Upon mentioning the slave's breasts, the Conqueror observed that the grey rag that bound them was extremely tight around them. She figured the girl must have done so for the purpose of making her breasts seem smaller than their actual size, so as to make them less appealing.
"And her second owner…?" the Conqueror asked.
"Phillipon, commander of the third battalion, bought her for his youngest son as a body servant, but I can assure my Liege he hardly used her. As it so happens, he prefers young lads," he replied.
The Conqueror moved her eyes over the slave one last time, as if still contemplating whether to make the buy or not. Finally she muttered "Very well" in the general direction of the slave trader and waved her hand to her second in command, signaling him to exchange money for goods. She then unsheathed her sword with one swift motion. The young slave's legs gave out from under her and she fell to her knees, thinking her miserable life was finally over. The Conqueror lowered her sword to her new body slave's neck and cut off the tag from around her neck, not leaving even the smallest of scratches on her flesh.
As the Conqueror pondered the beautiful sight of her property kneeling at her feet, she turned to her two garrisons and ordered them, "Collar her." She returned to the celebrations, while her slave was being dragged to the palace with a new leather collar around her neck, which bore the Conqueror's crest.
It was night-time, and the Conqueror's chambers were poorly lit by a few candles and by the fire slowly burning at the hearth. The Conqueror's chambers were designed in good and expensive taste: fine exotic carpets, exquisite wooden craftsmanship all around, excellent silk linen and bedspreads, and a vast stony balcony that overlooked the sea and breathtaking landscapes as far as the eye could see. The Conqueror appreciated esthetics and beautiful things around her.
At last came blessed solitude. The liquor cabinet was the Conqueror's first station. She poured a fine brand of intoxicant into a silver chalice. Next she picked up her pipe and stuffed it with some burly blend of eastern tobacco. When brimful, she placed the pipe between her lips and lit it. Only then did she turn her attention to the young slave waiting on her knees.
"On your feet."
The young slave quickly complied. The enormous bulge that rested between the Conqueror's chiseled thighs didn't escape her.
"Take off the frock and show me what's mine."
With fumbling fingers the slave removed the plain garment, which had been given to her at the pen, exposing her nakedness to the Conqueror's appreciating eyes. Being alone in the Conqueror's presence was almost more than she could bear.
"Go to my bed and kneel on all fours."
The slave did as she was ordered by the Conqueror's sonorous voice. She didn't see how the Conqueror's ravenous eyes inspected her back side, but she could feel it on her bare flesh. From behind her, the slave could hear the Conqueror's strides closing the gap between them. Next she heard the Conqueror unbuckling her belt.
The Conqueror's leather trousers fell down to her ankles. Almost lazily, she unbuttoned her white silk top, exposing her heated muscular form to the night's air. She licked her palm and then rubbed it against her shaft harnessed to her groin for lubrication. It was a recent purchase and the leather covering the wooden shaft was still stiff and rigid. She guided its tip to the slave's opening, pushing the moist folds aside to better access the girl.
"Arch your back," she commanded and placed her free hand over the slave's midriff, nudging her downwards so that her rear would be sufficiently elevated. The Conqueror could see the slight form before her tensing, bracing herself for what was inevitably to follow.
When ready, the Conqueror leaned down and cupped the girl's breasts, which were larger as previously had been suspected, and with a sharp jab of her crotch filled her up completely.
After a few urgent thrusts and a few determined squeezes to the slave's ample breasts and tight buttocks, it was over with a strained grunt.
As the Conqueror was catching her breath sprawled over the slave's back, the latter did her best to curb her surprise that it had taken the Conqueror the same amount of time and effort to achieve her release that it would have taken a lad half her age.
As soon as she was able, the Conqueror got off her slave and tidied up her cloths. When her guards came to escort the slave back to the pen, she handed out her last order for the day:
"Make sure she's properly fed."
The next morning, when the Conqueror woke up, the first thing that sprung to her mind was the slave's softness and her sweet scent.
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