Chapter 4 - Ariela: Depravities Origin

Ariela smirked contentedly as she sat on her Throne, it wasn’t as impressive or ornate as she would’ve preferred, but needs must and sometimes it was just impractical to bring a truly befitting throne out on a conquest. Though she knew she would have such a throne soon enough, her dominance was almost complete after all. The old King was old news and his Kingdom was on the verge of utter defeat, her army was terrifying, composed of fanatically loyal troops boosted by fiends and monsters leaving the remnant of the King's forces a ragtag assortment of militia, light infantry and huntsman conscripted to be short bowmen.


With the enemy on the verge of defeat she had invited their would-be leader, the last son of the old King, Prince Belind, to her camp to ‘parlay’. The army he had may have been numerous but little better than peasantry and though Ariela knew she could have the army eliminated with the flick of her wrist, she also understood that she would need peasants to farm her fields and work her mines in her new Empire, it shouldn’t be hard, she reasoned, to persuade them to surrender given the dire alternative she offered.


Her plan was simple, challenge the Princeling to a duel, one on one their single combat deciding the fate of the battle without the armies needing to fight. If he accepted she had no doubt in her mind that she would come out victorious and if he refused her offer his accompanying officer, likely no more than a peasant himself, would be aware that the boy Prince had saved his own skin at the cost of his army's, which would almost certainly inspire a coup and subsequent overthrow of the Prince, allowing the army to then surrender regardless.


It couldn’t fail either way she reasoned, she would rid herself of the last vestiges of the King's bloodline and forces with the death of a single man, and finally she would be able to disperse her own dark forces through the land to keep the peace and solidify her new rule, allowing the realm to grow and prosper in her design.


“Announcing Prince Belind and his companion!” a man called out, one of her own, his voice clear and strong as it passed through the tent she had set up in the ranks of her forces.


Ariela grinned and sat up straight, expectant, her dress light and airy, barely covering her lush figure, displaying a scandalous amount of skin and cleavage, which, she knew, would distract the Prince to no end.


In they walked, two men in gleaming armour, one tall and proud, his body strong and his eyes fierce, a gleaming helmet held under one arm looking all the bit a King, his hair dark and short flecked with grey, his jaw strong with a scar running across it from an old wound, the other was younger, barely more than a boy, his armour ill-fitting and poorly maintained on an unmasculine frame, his peasant attache.


Ariela addressed the older man, “Prince Belind, I presume.”


The younger boy's face reddened in embarrassment and he stepped forward, “You presume incorrectly, Lady, I am Prince Belind, this is my General.”


Ariela raised one delicate eyebrow and reevaluated the pair, she hadn’t known the age of the King’s last son, not having stopped to ask him, and she found herself in one way disappointed and in another intrigued as she eyed the young boy with his too young face and his shock of red hair.


“I see.” She said flatly, “I had expected the King's son to be a little more... Kingly. Regardless, you know why I arranged this parlay?”


The Prince tried his best to look strong, to adopt an air of might like his defeated father had worn so easily. “To discuss an armistice?”


Ariela burst into laughter, open and loud, she was joined by her at encouragement by her own companions, the guards, generals and stewards that attended on her all mocking the prospect.


The prince reddened further and the General looked down patiently as the laughter drew out, stopping only when Ariela raised a hand, her grin wide, “Funny, a cute prospect. You are beaten, Princeling, I’ve no doubt your General told you that before coming here as he seems wise to these things, but I commend your bravery! Unless I’m just mistaking stupidity.”


“I-...” he started, but his general laid a hand on his shoulder, the prince turning to look at him, uncertain and worried. He motioned with a hand for his General to speak in his place.


“Please, Lady Ariela, why did you wish for us to attend you?” the general asked, polite and formal, she made a mental note of that.


“Well, General…?” she led.


“Atrin, my Lady.”


“Well General Atrin, I don’t enjoy pointless slaughter, your forces are incredibly outmatched, there is no pitched battle out there awaiting us,” She waved a hand towards the entrance to the tent beyond which sat both armies, dismissive, “merely a massacre. I offer an alternative, a duel, between myself and the Princeling. If I am victorious, your army surrenders and every single man is allowed to return to his home, to his family, to his land and his life. If the Prince wins, well, I’ll be dead and without me, my army collapses to infighting. Even your little band of, I think they’re supposed to be fighters, could mop up the survivors of that mess.”


Belind frowned deeply, “I… I couldn’t, you should-”


Again he was interrupted by Atrin, “Might I suggest putting more thought into this, Sir.” he said the last bit with a hint of exasperated impatience in his voice, this time meeting the younger boys look with a steely gaze. Belind might’ve been an adult in age, but next to his General he felt like a child.


“But I-...”


“The army does not stand a hope of defeating her force, Belind. Even should you lose, you will save countless lives.” Atrin explained in a hushed tone and Ariela found herself smirking, enjoying the fruition of her plan.


The colour from Belind’s face drained and he stood stock still for some time, looking into the eyes of his General, “...Very well If… If it is for the people.” he said, finally turning his eyes back as he sized up Ariela. Her skills as a mage and a leader were well known, but in single combat, he had no information, “But I choose the weapons with which we fight.” he said softly.


Atrin looked a little impressed, it was a sound tactical move which was something he clearly did not expect from the Prince.


Ariela paused, seeming to ponder it for a moment, pointedly looking at his armour, “Very well. But I choose the armour in which we fight.” she responded, mimicking him speech mannerisms in a slightly mocking tone.


Before Atrin could interrupt, Belind had nodded, “So be it. I choose the rapier.”


“Splendid.” Ariela spoke, rising to stand and stepping down to the carpeted floor of her tent, beckoning with a hand towards one of her men, “Fetch two rapiers, allow the Princeling to choose his first.”


“And the armour?” Belind asked.


“Oh, how forgetful of me. We will fight bare skinned.” she said simply, no trace of shame of embarrassment in her voice.


The Prince’s eyes widened and his mouth fell open, “We-..”


“Do you refuse?” she asked, tilting her head curiously as an orb of orange formed around one hand.


Atrin spoke in a low, cautioning tone, “You agreed to her terms, to refuse is to concede, to concede is to…” he looked meaningfully towards the orb of power in her hand, Belind swallowed, looking around at the crowd.


“Your depravity knows no bounds.” he said, humiliation and regret mixing in his voice.


She shrugged, “Strip or die.” 


She watched with a mocking smirk as the boy, with the help of Atrin, began to remove his poorly fit armour. Her smirk slid as it was removed piece by piece, revealing his feminine body. She realised the youth of his features did not now seem to be too young, that impression had been fueled by his natural femininity, his skin fair and unblemished, his body lithe, looking quick but not especially strong. She felt her desire for conquest shift from that of land to something more primal.


He stood before her then, nude and beautiful, a princess born to the wrong life, his hair a fine strawberry blonde, his eyes a deep blue, his manhood while not so small as to warrant a mocking by the average man was not particularly something to write home about. She felt curious.


A man returned to the room bearing two identical blades. Belind, trying to ignore the piercing stares around him picked each up, weighing them and looking for any faults. They were well balanced and he could detect no sign of tampering or deception. He took a blade and the man offered the other to Ariela.


“You must change into your fighting garb.” he said, feigning confidence, trying to instil some of the humiliation that was flooding him into her.


“True.” she said simply, shrugging the dress down from her shoulders, letting the thin fabric fall to the floor. Her long raven hair cascaded down her body, her full rounded breasts on display.


However, as Belind drank in the view he realised it was not her embarrassment that her nudity would create, as she seemed quite comfortable without her clothes, but his own, as he looked down and her massive cock came into view, he felt confusion flow rife through him. He looked at her with a red face, his mind trying to comprehend what he was looking at when a single word cut through to his mind.


“Fight!”


Belind blinked and fell back into a defensive stance, trying to buy a few moments time to clear his thought and place his mind but Ariela was in no mood for a slow drawn out show to toy with him. While she was confident in her nudity, the guards and generals in her tent were not deserving of her full beauty for more than a few moments.


She stepped forward and feinted a blow to the right, he parried mechanically, his movements stiff, practically pulled straight from the textbook. It would’ve been a fine move, but Ariela had read every such book. She stepped to the left and ducked down inside his guard, her leg sweeping out to catch behind his own, sending him sprawling onto his back, in the space of a breath he found himself on the ground, a foot on his sword-bearing wrist and the point of her rapier against his neck.


“Submit or die, your choice.”


Swallowing, very carefully, he released his blade, whispering as to not flex his throat against the point of her blade, “I submit…”


She nodded simply and looked up to the General, “You will carry the message back to your forces that your Prince has submitted and that they are all to lay down arms and return to their homes. If they have not left the camp unarmed in two hours my forces will clear them out. Will they leave?”


Atrin cleared his throat and nodded, “Yes, Lady Ariela. They will disperse eagerly. What… What of the prince?”


“What of the prince indeed.” she looked down at the boy, beautiful and helpless. “I’m going to take him, as a trophy and a pet.” she decided out loud, “He will be my little sex toy and lover. Pass that message onto the masses, let them know what resistance and defiance bought this Prince.


Belind opened his mouth to speak but at the flick of her wrist his voice fell silent, his mouth moving but no sound being produced, his first taste of her magic.


“...I… I will say so, Lady Ariela.” Atrin said, bowing some, “May I?”


“Mmm, you may leave.” she said and he nodded turning to go, but once again he stopped as she continued to speak, his hand already lifting the flap to the tent, “Be sure to come back to my camp, though, once you have passed on your message.”


“My Lady?” he asked, his voice level, no trace of fear.


“I like you, General Atrin. And I’ll be in need of good generals who know the lay of the land and the will of the people in the coming months and years. You will be rewarded well for your service to me.” she explained.


He hesitated, but only for a moment. “Yes, Lady- Yes, my Queen.” 


Belind stared at his former General with a look of betrayal, but the man didn’t meet his eyes.


“Wonderful, you are dismissed. You all are, as a matter of fact.” she said, addressing the tent.


The figures all filed out, one steward pausing only to collect the rapiers before vacating the tent, leaving the two alone, the Conqueror and the conquered.


Ariela smirked as she moved back to sit on her throne, leaving the boy sitting on the floor, shocked at the turn of events. It took a few long moments until he worked up the courage to speak, his voice shaky and desperate, “I, I am Prince Belind, and… And I will not be kept as a pet…”


Ariela’s smirk broke into a grin, “Are you still a Prince? Your lands conquered, your armies disbanded or dead, your royal line ending with you.” she shook her head some, “Regardless, you are my pet and you will serve me. Come.”


He looked down, “I’d sooner die.”


“While that could be arranged, I always get what I want Belind. And I want you, on your knees submitting to me in the basest of ways. I won’t kill you, but I will break you to get what I desire.”


Belind looked up and saw an emerald mist around her hand, feeling a tingling he noticed too the mist was swirling around his genitals. He looked at her in fear as she slowly started to close her spread hand.


He felt a squeezing and let out a sharp gasp of pain, curling into a ball as agony lanced through him, he felt tears spring to his eyes as she released the pressure, stopping the pain as if it had never existed, tilting her head curiously, “I will continue to do this until you submit.”


He lay there, without responding. 


“Very well…”


“Wait! Wait! Please, no!” he cried out, desperate not to suffer a repeat of the phantom pain, “What… What would you have me do?”


Ariela grinned and lowered her hand, resting it on the arm of the throne, though the mists still lingered, “You’ve lain with a woman, yes? You’re no virgin?”


He nodded tentatively.


“Then you’ve had your cock sucked I presume?” she said, grinning as she waved her hand pointedly towards her soft intimidating length.


“I… I couldn’t…” he stammered, looking at her with pleading eyes.


She shrugged, “You will, it’s just a matter of how much pain you want to endure before you give in. The easiest route is submission.”


He swallowed and moved to stand, but a flick of her wrist and a wall of pressure pushed him back down, “No no, you crawl to me.” she instructed with a lazy grin, reclining in her seat as she forced the pride from him.


Slowly, reluctantly, he complied, shame dominating his expression as he made his way, on hands and knees towards her, pure defeat obvious in his every movement.


He came to rest at the foot of her throne between her perfect thighs, his eyes downcast.


“Look at it.” she said simply.


His eyes trailed from the carpeted floor to her smooth flawless calves, trailing up to her knees and thighs, resting finally on her hefty soft cock and her smooth balls.


“Like what you see?” She asked, teasingly and he shook his head, grimacing slightly, causing her to chuckle softly, “Don’t worry, you’ll learn to. Kiss it.”


He looked up at her with pleading watery eyes in his gorgeous feminine face, admiring the strawberry blonde hair that was going to look simply delightful grown out. 


She raised an eyebrow, not even needing to remind him of her threats to make him fold now.


He leaned in and, squeezing his eyes shut, pressed his full soft lips lightly to the silky warmth of her sleeping python.


She let out a pleased little sigh, the sensation was familiar to her but no less pleasant for the experience. 


For Belind though it was a different story, the humiliation, the shame and the act were all new to him. He had expected it to be worse than it was as he kissed it, though he wasn’t sure why. She was clean and smooth, feminine and beautiful despite her appendage. 


He guessed perhaps he would’ve felt something change, something snap in him as if he was broken, but the truth of the matter was he felt no different for the act, it was just skin pressing to skin. 


“Keep going.” she said gently, her cock starting to swell with desire.


He did so, kissing up and down the length, much to her satisfaction. Each kiss didn’t chip away at him, make him feel any less than who he was and he knew this would be how he would get through this ordeal. He would play the part of the toy, bide his time, maybe strike to kill her or forge a rebellion from the heart of her new Empire. 


He looked up at her and they shared a moment gazing into each other's eyes. He felt as if she saw something in his expression, but she didn’t speak of it.


“Now…” she said, voice low as her semi-hard cock twitched and bobbed before his wet lips, “Show me why I should keep you around.”


He looked up at her grimly and part of him wished she would force him, physically make him do it as opposed to this. It seemed worse to him somehow, to be forced to perform with words and threats.


She raised her eyebrows expectantly, she was not, he was becoming swiftly aware, a patient woman.


He leaned forward and pressed his lips to the very tip of her swollen cockhead, hesitating, as if just kissing it before squeezing his eyes shut, swallowing his pride and shame as he prepared to swallow something entirely different, but he feared, equally as bitter.


He leaned forward and let the silky smooth tip of her cock pry his lips apart, its presence filling his mouth and coming to settle on his tongue. He tried to focus on the mechanical actions he was performing as opposed to what it symbolised, he let the thick cock slide down across his tongue deeper into his mouth as it hardened, dominating his mouth and stretching his lips.


Ariela relaxed on her throne enjoying the sweetness of her victory, a kingdom conquered, what better end could there be than to have the last of her fallen foes royal blood serving her cock.


She let the familiar pleasure roll through her as he, tentatively and with stiff motions, rolled his lips up and down her impressive length. He was undeniably unskilled, but that would change and he would learn.


“Use your tongue. Suck.” she urged, enticing him further.


Swallowing back spit he did as he was bid, his tongue washing over the underside of her shiny cockhead, lavishing it as his cheeks caved in, sucking on the length as he continued to slowly bob his head up and down.


Ariela grinned and reached down, running her fingertips through his beautiful hair as he obediently went down on her. This boy had caved so easily, raised in such luxury the merest threat of physical pain had made his will collapse faster than, well, his Kingdom.


She relaxed for some time, watching as he struggled to pleasure her, his jaw doubtless aching, his tongue sore and his mind running in circles about just how long this would take. She could feel herself starting to draw close, as unskilled as he was the outcome had, ever since she had set out to conquer, been inevitable.


She bit her lip and curled her fingers in his hair a little tighter, he looked up at her again, past the full swell of her chest, rising and falling with her breath, to her beautiful face, eyes focused and intent on him, he knew what was to come and, as her fingers held him, he knew there would be no eleventh-hour reprieve.


She saw in his eyes a spark of defiance, an impressive feat given his plush lips were currently wrapped around her spit-shined shaft, his hot velvety mouth drawing her to climax and she couldn’t help but to smirk, she didn’t know why he seemed defiant, but it felt good to know there was still spirit to break.


“You better swallow it, my pretty little pet…” she said in a low hungry voice, the tone laced with no small measure of threat, lost to the lust as her cock began to twitch and throb in his mouth.


Unable to bare looking her in the eyes as she completed the defilement of his mouth he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to close his mind to what was to come, a task, as she began to cum, he quickly realised was impossible.


He whimpered and squirmed in her grip as his mouth filled with her hot thick seed, each new pulse bring a salty, bitter mouth load for him that coated his tongue and shamed him as he gulped it down, feeling the intense heat settle deep inside his body as she sated herself on his delicate form.


She held him all throughout her powerful climax, giving him no moment's respite as she finished inside him, still holding his head she grinned playfully, “Stroke it… Milk out every last drop.”


Without any alternative he slowly wrapped his hand around her cock, between his fingers it was softer than it had been a moment ago, but as he stroked it the last few drops of cum flowed out to rest on his tongue, Ariela doing the best she could to make him play as big a part as possible in his own downfall.


“Mm, there's a good little boy.” she purred as he swallowed the last of her essence.


Softening the grip on his hair, now finished with him he pulled back slightly, the cock falling from his lips as he released it, the ruby red tip shining as she smirked, her hand once more caressing through his fine hair as he looked up at her, his eyes wet, the defiance she had seen hidden or gone. 


“I’m going to have a lot of fun with you.” She said with a predatory grin as she shuffled her hips forward on her throne, tugging him forward gently to press his face up under her softening shaft, pressing his lips to her heavy smooth sack that had just provided him with his unwanted drink.


This time she didn’t need to speak, she merely tightened her grip, prompting him and she felt his lips start to kiss at her spent balls.


She sighed contentedly and looked up away from him as he kissed her, the Kingdom was hers, her Empire was formed and the spoils were bountiful. Not bad for a day's work.




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