Serena couldn’t help but feel happy. After all, another day was won. Blood had been spilled and another glorious victory for their Lord and master had been claimed. She had fought well in his name. The master’s enemies lay dead, and the few that had been allowed to keep their lives had joined the master’s rank. It had taken them most of the day to make them all serve, but they were nearly done now. There was only one left to claim. Master had saved the best for last.

The flaps of the tent swung open and for a brief moment the crimson light of the evening sun spilled into the gloom, illuminating red velvet pillows and ornate carpets and fine furs scattered around a masterfully carved wooden throne, atop which sat the master, his warrior concubine Serena proudly at his side.

Through the harsh sunbeam five figures filed in, four of them wearing the master’s insignia, manhandling the fifth, a tall and muscular blonde woman clad in armor and bound in shackles.

“Let me go, you goatfuckers!” shouted the warrior. “You motherless – urghh!” She grunted as they kicked her in the smalls of her knees and brought her down to kneel in front of the dimly lit throne.

Serena stood by her master and dutifully surveyed the shackled prisoner kneeling before them. A beautiful swordmaiden, one that had felled dozens of the master's warriors. She was a fierce fighter with golden hair and fair skin, and she had made them pay a dear price for their attempts to capture her alive. Even now, she was twisting and straining in her iron bonds like an untamable animal, still trying to escape her captors’ grasp as she looked up at the man who had conquered her village.

Then, her furious eyes fell on Serena.

“You!” spat the woman as she recognized the one that had beaten her in combat. It had indeed been Serena that had knocked the spear out of the warmaiden’s hands and brought her to the ground this morning, at the end of battle, when all others had already been slain or captured. 

It had not been a fair fight, of course. The master’s vanguard had done their duty and tired her out until Serena had overcome her. Still, it had been a challenge to best this ferocious blonde warrior. The young maiden had fought so hard and so bravely for her freedom, but in the end Serena had defeated her and claimed her for her master.

Serena said nothing. She simply met the fiery gaze of the woman she had bested until the warmaiden averted her gaze to glare at Serena’s master instead. “What do you want of me, villain?” asked the woman, and Serena realized that their captive had no idea what was about to happen to her. She had not witnessed the fate of her brothers and sisters in arms. They had all been brought one by one to be subjugated, and afterwards they had of course not returned to the ranks of the captives. The warrior probably thought that she was about to die. Nothing could be further from the truth. She was about to be reborn.

This one was going to be the master’s last convert – and surely the most prized servant to be claimed today. Serena looked to her side, at her rightful master. He was grinning, basking in his well-earned victory, savoring this moment. Serena licked her lips unconsciously. She, too, was shivering with anticipation, and her heart was beating with excitement. The emotions and desires of her master were bleeding over into her as they so often did, and she was helpless to feel his lust as if it were her own. The once foreign sensation of intermingled desires had by now become intimately familiar and almost comforting. After all she was his entirely, and it was only right and proper that she should feel the same shameless lust that he did. 

She looked again at the captured woman with her legs quivering and nipples aching, but this time she could not help but feel a quiet sense of tragedy – even if she did not know why. 

“What I want of you, fair warrior…” said Serena’s master, addressing the kneeling captive, “is everything. Your service. Your loyalty. Your soul. Your body. It will all be mine.”

“Never!” spat the warmaiden. “I would rather die than serve you.”

Serena’s master said nothing in reply. Instead, he raised his staff. Serena’s gaze was immediately drawn to it like a moth to fire. She beheld her master’s terrible instrument, a polished wooden staff five feet in length, at its top a jagged crystal glowing with shimmering purple light from within. As he raised it the glow of the crystal intensified, and Serena felt the master’s power resonate in her chest where she ever felt the magical control that he had over her. Her leashed soul instinctively awaited command. But none came. At least, not for her.

“You will serve me, young warrior, body and soul. Will and strength and heartbeat and joy, dreams and fears, awake and asleep -- I claim them, now!”

A wave of arcane power rippled through the fabric of reality, and Serena beheld how the warrior’s face contorted into a grimace as the might of the master’s staff pierced into her and invaded her mind sith irresistible force. She looked suddenly terrified, and Serena knew that she was already hearing the Master’s voice in her head. “What?! No… what… what devilry is this?!”

The master smiled, and struck his staff forward. Rays of light cascaded from its tip, crashing into the woman’s body before she had a chance to react, and a dark radiance enveloped her, creeping under her skin and into her eyes, and the woman trembled and shuddered and whimpered as she was crushed beneath the power of the master’s will.

“No, stop! I… I won’t! I won’t! NO!” cried the young warrior, but the master did not relent. She was his to claim. She would serve.

Serena smiled with satisfaction as her master’s awesome work was being done, and she knew in her heart that she had once been just like the screaming warrior – willful and strong and fierce. And then, she had met the same fate as her. The master had made her his loyal servant. For a fleeting moment, she wondered why thinking back to that moment gave her such a feeling of quiet sorrow. It felt almost painful to know how absolutely her will had been shackled. Perhaps it had to do with the terror in the blonde warrior's eyes, the sight of which did much to make her remember the distress she had once felt. 

The moment passed, however, and her thoughts soon returned to the wonderful present. The master’s newest piece of property was losing her fight.

“NOOO!” screamed the woman, even as her eyes glowed brighter and brighter with the master’s magic. “I WON’T SERVE!  I… I… I won’t! NEVER! I WILL NEVER– AAARGH!!!!”

Her words became screams, then silence, as brilliant filigrees of magic suddenly erupted out of her wide-open eyes like a murmurating swarm of millions of birds. They were not the deep purple that the light of the master’s magic was made of, but instead steel blue, just as the natural color of her eyes, and for a moment they fluttered and shimmered in the air between her and her subjugator – and her mouth stood open in a silent scream as the moment lingered and nothing moved except for the sparkling essence that the master had ripped from her very being. All of her thoughts, all of her dreams, all of her hopes, all of her ideas, made manifest, suspended in the air around her like embers, just as bright, just as impermanent. It was time for them all to be consumed.

The master thrust his staff into the hard dirt beneath their feet with a percussive crack – and the warmaiden’s unbound essence came rushing forward as if caught in the gust of a hurricane, and the luminescent sparkles became part of a maelstrom coiling around the dark crystal. They churned wildly, the brilliant blue of her unbound will slowly turning into deep purple until finally, a fell noise filled the air; It was like the howling of great winds and mountains crashing into a tempestuous sea as violently all of her light was consumed and bound within the darkly shimmering facets, and silence fell.

It was done. 

The warmaiden’s body went limp. Her braided hair had come loose on her brow, and strands of gold dangled messily across her face. Her head, too, hung low as she knelt and her arms dangled limply at her sides. All strength had left her. All resistance had left her. She was broken. She was empty. She was his.

The master bore down his staff upon the ground one final time, and the warrior’s body tightened, and she slowly raised her head. The strands of her hair parted to reveal that her eyes were no longer the color of a cold clear sky, but instead had taken the very same purple hue as the crystal that bound her will. She looked at her master, and her eyes were bright and awake as they burned with her new devotion. She did not speak, for she had not been told to.

“And now you are mine, fair warrior.”

“Yes, master,” said the blonde slave, and her voice carried no more anger, no more fight. Instead, she spoke with an air of utter comfort and ease, as if she had never resisted at all – as if serving her new master was the most natural thing in the world. 

Serena looked at her master’s newest servant, feeling his swelling sense of accomplishment and conquest bleed over into her shackled mind, and in this moment she felt so very happy to be his slave, his concubine. She loved him. She loved what he had done. There was another slave like her now, another beautiful warrior for him to use. Serena knew it was right. She knew she wanted this, even though she still felt that strange aftertaste she could not explain – as if some part had inexplicably rooted for the fair warmaiden to win.

But she hadn’t won. She had lost her will and become the master’s loyal servant, jist like Serena knew it was meant to be. Like she wanted it to be. Like the master wanted it to be.

The master flicked his hand, and his newest servant’s shackles fell off her wrists, and she confidently rose to her feet and into a firm stance.

“What is your name?”

The warrior bowed her head in reverence. “My name is Lyanne, master.”

“Will you serve me in all things, Lyanne?”

“Yes, master. Always.” There was not a trace of hesitation in Lyanne's words; only pride and conviction.

“Will you kill in my name and offer me the souls of those that survive?”

“Yes, master. I will. All must serve you or die.”

“Will you offer your body to be used? Will you give yourself to me?”

“I will. My body is yours to reign over.”

The master nodded, a wide smile on his thin lips.  “A worthy sister she’ll be, won’t she, Serena?” the master asked.

“Yes, master,” Serena replied. Her voice was little more than a whisper, such was the awe that gripped her every bone. Her body had no choice but to tremble with her master’s lust and excitement. This was wonderful. “She shall serve you well.”

Serena beheld her new sister. She was truly magnificent. Young and well-built, her skin fair and her body firm yet curvaceous, her face as beautiful as that of a princess and yet as fierce as that of a true warrior. Their eyes met, and Serena smiled softly at her and received a smile in return – and in that moment she truly knew that Lyanne’s mind was now forever shackled and controlled. In those pale purple eyes no spark remained but the eager, unquestioning desire to serve. Her will was bound inside the dark crystal atop their master’s staff, the very same way that Serena’s will was. 

Again, Serena felt the slightest tug of melancholy at the back of her throat. She ignored it and focused instead on the guttural joy of her master’s victory. She knew she must serve, and she was ecstatic to see the master get what he desired.

“Very well,” the master said, and nodded. “Won’t you rid your sister Lyanne of her garb, Serena? Unless, of course, she does not wish to offer her body to me.”

The master shifted his grip, and Lyanne twitched, and she raised her head to look at the master, eyes wide and thoughtless and shimmering with a deeper shade of purple. Atop her master’s staff, the crystal had begun to glow in time with the pulsations in her eyes. Lyanne’s voice rang hollow and absent of emotion. “i am yours completely, master. my body is yours to use and to reign over. i have no will but your will. i have no desires but those you instill in me. i am a good little whore that needs to be groped and fucked. i am a powerless little bitch and i will let you do anything to me.”

The master smiled, and shifted his staff. The glow within the crystal ebbed, and conscious thought returned to Lyanne’s eyes. There was no concern at all in them. The fact that she had just been turned into the master’s puppet was no longer something that she was able to feel anything but glad about. The blonde warrior’s gaze shifted to Serena, a playful smile spreading across her full red lips. “Undress me, sister. The master desires to see all of me.”

Serena eagerly went to task. The warmaiden had, of course, already been relieved of her weapons well before she had been brought before the master. All that was left to strip off her was her armor, which was fashioned from fine steel, and speckled with the dried blood of the master’s lower thralls. It was clear that Lyanne had felled many men before she had been overcome. She was truly worthy of becoming the master’s second concubine. 

Serena loosened the leather buckles and pieces of armor one after the other fell off of Lyanne’s body until she was wearing only the padded underclothes beneath. Still, her body was not yet unveiled. Serena stepped around the warrior, and Lyanne was standing proud and patient as she was being undressed. For a moment their eyes met again, and in that moment Serena felt as if the two of them were already lifelong companions. She could see it in Lyanne’s purple eyes: An understanding that only the two of them could share. A spark of sisterhood and shared joy and pride. Of all the people in the world, only Lyanne and Serena knew the pleasure of being the master’s personal slaves. Both of them were the master’s deepest thralls, their minds shackled and enslaved in the very same way, and she immediately felt an intimate kinship: A mutual understanding of the joy only the two of them knew. She loved her.

And in that moment of realization the act of stripping her was no longer something that Serena was doing to Lyanne. No. This was something they were doing together, for their master. Lyanne smiled at her shyly, and Serena knew that Lyanne’s most intimate places were now burning with the very same wanton desires as her own. She knew that Lyanne wanted this just as much as she did. The master’s will had filled them both with the same shameless lust. It was wonderful.

She undid the leather straps holding the warrior’s jerkin, and pulled it off. After that, she tore off her undershirt, ripped down her breeches and revealed the almost naked body beneath. Lyanne’s shame was slick, and the warrior readily stepped out of her discarded clothes to widen her stance and spread her legs so that their master would better be able to see the folds of her quivering womanhood. Her breasts, however, were still bound down with straps of linen, held flat against her chest. 

Serena pulled a knife from her boot, eliciting a sidelong glance from Lyanne, who had been fixing her gaze upon her master until then. Again, their eyes met, and they both smiled knowingly. They were warriors, the both of them, familiar with the sting of a blade. The only difference was that Serena had been defeated and enslaved long ago – and Lyanne only today. 

Serena stepped closer and slowly drew the flat of the blade across Lyanne’s shoulders, down and around her back. She let the edge glance across her skin, the angle flat and harmless, but still enough to make Lyanne's skin rise with the thrill of danger. Lyanne’s gaze turned to follow her, fiercely meeting Serena’s gaze until she was unable to turn her head any further. The master’s power pulsated in Lyanne's eyes, and Serena knew that it must also pulsate between her legs. The master was about to have Lyanne, and she was appropriately wet. Serena knew that wonderful feeling well.

Serena carefully pushed the blade between the skin and the straps of linen that kept the last of Lyanne’s body covered from the view of the one that owned it. She cut down, slowly, not daring to damage the master’s property, and the straps came loose, falling like ribbons from Lyanne’s smooth skin. 

Finally the servant was naked for the master, her shapely breasts and glistening folds proudly on display.

“I am yours,” Lyanne said, her voice carrying the smooth and relaxed tone of someone stating nothing but obvious truth. Her will was his – unquestioningly. 

“Leave us,” said the master, and the guards that had remained until now did as they had been commanded, leaving only the master and his two loyal servants in the dim tent. 

Serena could feel the heat in her body rising in anticipation. She felt her master’s will urge her forward, stepped around Lyanne, and took in the beautiful body of her newborn sister. Modest but firm breasts, round and full, with pink nipples standing erect in arousal as she stood before her owner. Strong and lean arms and legs, and a toned, slim abdomen, trembling with pride and barely contained lust. And further down, shimmering with sweat and arousal, her hairy and exposed womanhood: Wet lips ready to be spread and used by the master. It was the body of a fierce and loyal warrior, and now also the body of a wanton whore that would do anything to serve her master. She was magnificent.

Some part of this still felt wrong, but Serena could neither understand why nor care about it even if she did. The only important thing was that they obey and offer themselves to their master. It was their only purpose. It was the only thing in the world that was certain. Their will was his will, and they would serve. Always. Questioning it would be like questioning the color of the sky.

The master took Lyanne in front of Serena, then, and Lyanne eagerly offered herself like she must. He took her hard, in the way he preferred his women, from behind. Serena watched his manhood find its way between her spread cheeks and into the wetness of her waiting folds, and she felt no jealousy, no animosity towards Lyanne even as her own dripping shame craved the master’s cock. Indeed she was happy to watch the master defile Lyanne’s body and proud to stand by and do nothing as he had his way. It was their purpose to obey and serve, and this was what the master wanted to happen. This was good. This was right. This was wonderful.

Lyanne moaned and panted as the master rammed into her, and her breasts swayed wildly beneath her with every thrust that rocked her body forth. The blonde warrior was smiling as she let herself be used by the one she served, and she kept smiling as he pulled her hair and spanked her backside. Her eyes were wide, and glowing deep purple. She was possessed by the master’s power, and Serena could tell that it was making her just as wet and shameless as the master wanted. She fucked him hard, and when the master came into her, Lyanne’s pleasure seemed to crest as well and her screams of carnal ecstasy filled the heavy air of the master’s tent until the master pulled his member from her hole, and commanded her to turn around. “Lick me clean, slave,” commanded the master, and Lyanne did not hesitate. She took him into her mouth and sucked off the sticky white remnants of his seed and her own wetness and only stopped when the master told her to.

Serena watched it all with a sense of quiet satisfaction, and she knew that Lyanne must feel the same as her. This was what they had to do. They had to serve. They had to obey. Their will was his will. 

And they did. And they always would. Forever. 

For a moment, she had the foreign thought that there might be another way for them to think – another way for them to be. For a moment, she felt that strange sense of unease again, as if something wasn’t quite right. For some reason she remembered Lyanne before she had been enslaved: strong-willed and defiant and ferocious and free – like Serena had been once. It was such a strange thought, formless and senseless and wrong. No. They had to obey. They had to serve.

“Well done, slut,” said the master, and Serena’s attention returned to the beautiful slave that was currently kneeling in front of the man they served. Lyanne’s back was turned to Serena as the young blonde servant looked up at the one that owned her will, and Serena could see sweat glistening on her flawless skin.

“Thank you, Master,” said the newly enslaved warrior slut, and it felt right to hear her say it. It felt right to see her serve. It felt right to know that the master had ripped out her soul and made her into his unquestioning tool. It felt right to see her kneel.

“We shall ride at the break of dawn. My scouts report another band of rebels in the foothills up north, and we must not allow them to fortify themselves before we meet them.”

“Yes, Master,” Lyanne said, “I know of them. They are led by Thomas Stone. Some young men and women from my village joined their ranks months ago. Young Jared told me that they have a scouting post at Farcrest Hill. Did our scouts find it?”

The master smiled. “They did not, and you did well to share that information.”

“We could easily ambush them at the forest road leading north from there if we circle around west,” Lyanne offered eagerly. “You could enslave them like you enslaved me, and send them forth to sabotage the others.”

The master nodded. “Well, aren’t you eager to serve, little slut? Seeing you betray your brethren gets my blood welling again much sooner than I would have thought.”

Lyanne did not hesitate. “I am ready to be used. Always.”

“I know you are, slut. Serena!”

Serena snapped to attention. “Yes, Master?” she asked, ready to serve.

“My newest slave has been very good,” the master said, and caressed Lyanne’s cheek. Serena could see Lyanne shiver with satisfaction. The master continued. “I want you to reward her. Take her to bed. Lick her cunt and make her come for me, slave.”

“Yes, master.” Serena stepped forward as Lyanne got to her feet from her knees. She stretched out her hand, and Lyanne took it. For a moment, their eyes met. Again, Serena felt a sense of quiet connection through their shared enslavement – a strange sense of perfect agreement that was born of being bound to the exact same will. There would never be anything that Serena wanted that Lyanne did not also want; They could never do each other wrong.

Right now, what Serena wanted was to push her face between Lyanne’s leg and give her the same pleasure that the master’s cock gave her when he used her, or the same pleasure that she got when the master commanded her to strip for him and push her fingers down between her folds as he watched.  

Lyanne’s hand was in her hand, and she pulled her across the thick fur rugs of her master’s tent, and onto the well-appointed and expansive bed. She pushed her over, and Lyanne fell softly onto the silken sheets and came to rest between plump, perfumed pillows. She was as beautiful as any woman that Serena had ever laid her eyes upon, and she felt glad to know that this beautiful body belonged to her master, now.

Lyanne spread her legs for her, and Serena dove into the wetness between them without another moment of hesitation. Lyanne whimpered and moaned as Serena pushed her tongue between her sticky folds, in the way that she would want Lyanne to do it if she were the one between Serena’s thighs instead. She probed, and tried pushing gently, then forcefully, listening to Lyanne’s noises of grateful pleasure until she found the rhythm that seemed to give the greatest reward for Lyanne’s obedience, and then kept going, feeling the pride of her own eager servitude throb at the deep place of her being where the master had ripped out her will and replaced it with his own.

“Yesss,” came the master’s moans from next to her. He had joined them on the bed, and Serena caught a glance of him kneeling next to them, his manhood in his hand, slowly stroking as he watched his enslaved concubines wrapped up in carnal pleasure. Serena’s resolve hardened even more. She had to please him. She had to make Lyanne crest, to obey what the master had commanded. She had to obey – and she knew how to serve. Lyanne was mewling with every wet caress of Serena’s tongue and Serena knew that the blonde warrior was close. She had to make her climax. For master. She slowly, ever so slowly, licked harder, and faster, with every moan, with every shiver of Lyanne’s body. She tasted her, and felt her, and smelled her, and heard her quiver and gasp and whimper, and she sucked harder and pushed harder and harder and faster and wetter and deeper and more shameless and needy and ravenous and when she thought that the heat and lust between the warrior’s legs were almost enough to suffocate her, Lyanne finally screamed and and squirmed – and her back arched and her body lifted off the mattress even as her legs squeezed around Serena’s head as she came, shameless and debased and reduced to nothing but a willing, eager whore.

Serena grunted with pain as Lyanne's quivering thighs clamped down on her like a vise -- and gasped for air when Lyanne’s wonderful body finally relaxed and her and her legs unfurled from around the sides of her head and neck. She was breathing heavily, and her heart was racing from the exertion – but in her chest glowed the satisfaction of having done her master’s will. Lyanne shifted her body with a soft grunt, and came to rest next to Serena. They were face to face, and Lyanne found herself looking deeply into her eyes. She was so beautiful. Serena was glad to have someone as strong and bright as her to share the pleasure of obedience with.

The master cleared his throat.

“Well done, Serena! Lyanne, won’t you tell her how grateful you are that Serena defeated you?”

“Yes, Master,” Lyanne said with a smile – but for a moment Serena saw something else flicker within her purple eyes; A flash of doubt, or hesitation. For a moment it seemed like Lyanne had only just now realized the full magnitude of what had happened to her: She had lost. She was subjugated and enslaved. Her will was bound and she had no choice but to want what her master compelled her to want. She hesitated.

“Out with it, cunt!” the master spat. “Thank her for what she did to you!”

A shimmer of deep purple flared up in Lyanne’s eyes as the master took control, and all doubt was wiped off her face. Her smile was pure now, unspoiled by any doubt. “Yes, Master. Thank you Serena, for conquering me, and for offering my soul to the master. Thank you for slaying my brothers and my father. Thank you for denying me an honorable death. Thank you for beating and humiliating me and bringing me before the master so that i may become his whore.”

And still, even though Lyanne was smiling brightly, there was a tear rolling down her face, and Serena felt an inexplicable tightness in her chest. “I killed your family?” she asked. 

“Yes,” Lyanne answered. “I watched you do it. My youngest brother was barely old enough to hold a sword, and you killed him without mercy.”

For a moment, Serena was at a loss for words. Something felt suddenly wrong. This was all so wrong.

“I’m… sorry,” she said, and she saw Lyanne’s brow furrow as if the blonde concubine had not ever considered the possibility that Serena might apologize. Serena had been surprised herself, to be honest. For a short moment, they both seemed to be caught in a strange emotion. A strange moment of grief and regret and confusion and–

“Obey!”

The master’s will rammed itself into the folds of her mind and she smiled as she gave herself up like she knew she must. His power spilled through her and swept away the things that confused her and made her doubt the things she knew were right. Yes. This was wonderful.

She smiled at her sister concubine, fast in the knowledge that this was exactly what she had always been meant to be. Nothing else mattered. Only obedience and service. 

Lyanne’s eyes flashed bright with the glow of the master's power, and she spoke again, voice firm and bright and without regret. “Thank you for killing my family.”

This time, Serena understood exactly what she needed to say. She smiled, filled with pride to serve the master’s will. Her eyes glowed deep purple as she looked into the burning eyes of the woman she had helped to enslave.

“You’re welcome, whore” she said.