Legends of the Fel Ch. 01

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CHAPTER 1 – Capture

It had been a dark day from the offset. Sharn had left her village before dawn and when the sun awoke it had been a blood red colour, staining the clouds with its tint. There was a chill in the air this morning, a low white mist clinging to the dew wet grass that grew tall and long at this time of year. Pushing her way through the undergrowth she approached the forest, the gaps between the trees still as dark as the night. Pausing at the boundary to the wood Sharn reached to her back and withdrew her long bow. It was stoutly made, handed down through her family through the ages, repaired on many an occasion. She was proud to do its linage justice. At the tender age of nineteen she was the village archery champion, a proud huntswoman granted the title of ‘Feltrist’ which meant ‘true shot’. Not even old enough to have been bedded by a man, the only sex she had known was the fond embraces of her slightly older sister, Kelharn. They shared a small bed in their family hut, the long dark nights of winter made more pleasant by lying end to end with one another, their moist tongues licking away at each others pussy lips. Sharn loved the sensation of kissing her sisters clit, licking her way around the fleshy protuberance before tracing her way downwards, flicking her tongue deeper and deeper into the warm wetness of her vagina. Eventually they would both climax together and fall into a deep peaceful sleep.

The two girls would often bathe together in the large bath made from stone and deer hide, the water from the local spring warmed in pots over the fire beforehand. When ever the temperature of the bath water started to cool, then the girls would use their own special means of heating it up; parting their pussy lips and pissing into the water around their thighs. This would always set the girls off giggling if their mother was in the room, as she would be oblivious to the naughty going-on in the bath. However, if the girls were alone during their bath then would take it in turns to take naughty little pees into the water, either by perching their nude bums on the rim of the bath before proceeding to send down a little shower of pussy piss, or even worse, they would lie in the water with just the base of their vaginas emerged out of the water. When they started to wee, the resulting stream of piss would shoot upwards in a little flowing fountain before pattering down into the bath water.

Just thinking about bathing with her sister was making Sharn desperate to go. Taking a quick look around to make sure she was unobserved, she then hiked up the material of her skirt to reveal the dark brown haired triangle of pubic hairs nestled between her legs. With her skirt out of harms way Sharn wasted no more time and started to let out a steaming hot stream of yellow piss which shot out of her pussy lips at the base of her crotch and proceeded to splatter down over the cold earth below. Steam rose from the impact point on the ground where her piss was pattering. The hissing sound of her wee sounded loud in the still morning air and Sharn wondered if this would scare off any potential game nearby. Deciding she best finish her piss as quickly as possible, she squeezed harder watching as the stream of yellow urine flowing out of her body increase in size and distance. Giving a quick shake of her hips from side to side, her bare bum cheeks exposed to the cold air, she played her pee stream over the stems of the nearby grass shoots enjoying the sensation of covering them with her urine. After several more moments of gorgeous relief Sharn finished her morning wee. Allowing her short leather skirt to fall back into place around her muff and bum cheeks, she set off again, pushing past the piss stained grass patch. Within seconds she had plunged into the dark of the woods.

It took Sharn’s eyes several seconds to adapt to the gloom. Once she had her vision back she pressed on. Up ahead, barely two hundred paces, was an open glade in which a small spring bubbled up from the rocks and fed into a marsh lined pool which the local game would drink from. Stealthy she made her way through the undergrowth. Beneath her bare feet came no sound, a life time of hunting game making her a deadly stalker. She could see the glade now up ahead, shafts of sunlight piecing the gloom of the wood into the open space. ‘There, just between those trees on the right’, she told herself as she spotted the large stag. The animal was grazing, its head lowered to the floor below. She was now thirty paces away, an easy shot for one like her. Slowly and without a sound, she released the bow from her back along with a long barbed arrow. Notching the arrow she straightened to her full height, raising the bow as she moved. Pulling back on her bow she revealed the muscular grace of her slender frame; lithe and powerful with strong arms created from yielding her bow since the time of an early child. She pulled back further, the bow line stretched taught. Sighting along the frame she slowed her breathing knowing that the shot must come between breaths for the arrows flight to be true. The killing moment approached. Gaziantep Escortlar Her concentration total, she had but a few seconds to go…..

Suddenly, from the distance came the urgent tolling of the village bell. Startled by the sound, Sharn released her hold on the line. The arrow shot forth but leapt skyward as her concentration faltered. ‘That sound – The warning that the village was under attack!’ Quickly she dashed back through the woods in the direction she had come, all thoughts of stealth dashed by the urgent sounds of the bell from up ahead. As she burst forth from the tree line she plunged through the tall grass stems and undergrowth not even noticing the damp splashes on her clothes and legs and she moved straight through the patch where she had early taken her wee.

Her feet flew over the ground, her heart pounding in her chest. Her mind was filled with dark thoughts of what the bell warning entailed. She had been but a small girl the last time the bell had been struck. At that time, a small raiding party of bandits had come up from the coast where they had landed in their small ramshackle war boat. The villages had fought them off, the wooden barricade encircling the dwellings defence enough against the badly organised bandits. Whilst in her learning years Sharn had been trained both as a huntress and at the same time, as a defender of the village. Her bow was not only a tool for the retrieval of game for food, but also as a weapon of war to defend her loved ones.

The village was coming into sight now, just over the rise of the hill which led down to the main cattle track that led through the village gates. A thick pall of dark black smoke was rising upwards. As Sharn skidded to a halt on the hill crest she looked down to see the defensive barricade on fire. Her heart lurched as she saw the invaders. The distance was still great but she could easily tell that they were well organised and that they meant business. Near the gates but out of bow shot from the surrounding wooden wall, a party of eight cavalry were circling, occasionally shooting lit arrows of flame in the direction of the main gate which was already on fire. Behind this party waited another group possible thirty strong, stood shoulder to shoulder in a box formation obviously waiting for the gates to fail. Sharn dropped to the ground desperately trying to become one with the earth. She stared intently at the figures below. ‘Wait, these were not men’, she thought as she took in the figures in detail. Yes, each figure was indeed a woman down to the last of the infantry. Each one seemed to be wearing a strange mix of armour, their chests and backs covered in steel, their legs encased in dark leather. It was the final detail that was puzzling Sharn until with a gasp she realised what it was. Each woman was completely exposed at the groin, both buttocks and pussy exposed naked to the watching world. Even having realised the truth to this strange mixture of armour and nudity, Sharn struggled with the concept. She had never heard of warrior women like these, who covered their breasts with steel but yet willingly exposed their womanhood for all to see. ‘Who were these attackers and why had they come to her village?’

From out of the clamour rising up from below, over the tolling bell and the shouts of the villagers came a loud war cry coming from the lead rider. The party of horse mounted warrior women reeled around and formed a rough wedge which suddenly bolted forwards towards the wall of smoke belching from the village gates. They vanished from sight as they plunged into the smoke before a loud crack announced the falling of the gates, Then Sharn saw them again, bursting forth from the reeling folds of smoke and galloping at full pelt into the village grounds. A new cry arose as the infantry set off at a quick pace which became a run as they neared the broken opening. Sharn marvelled at the women, sunlight reflecting off their steel cheats, flashes of black, red and blond pubic triangles of the women’s pussies as they moved forth. Their formation stayed in tact, each woman in perfect line with the women beside her. This spoke of strict martial discipline and once again Sharn was left to wonder at the nature of the attackers.

The sound of battle coming from the village brought her from her wonderings. She could hear the screams of people dying, women wailing as the invaders cut their way further into the village. Sharn tried to rise but fear was keeping her pinned to the earth. She had never been so scared. She was still too young to be called upon to defend her home from the likes of these Amazons. Between her legs a warm damp stain started to spread over the inside of her leather skirt as hot pee leaked from her vagina with her fear. Shame washed over Sharn as she lay there, pissing herself whilst her friends and family were being slaughtered. The warmth of her escaping wee trickled down her legs shaming her more. Should she ever arise from her coward’s viewpoint, what would she look like rushing to the aid of her village, with yellow urine running down her legs?

A noise from behind caught her attention; the snort of a horse close behind. Desperately she twisted over in the grass moving onto her back, bow and arrow quill digging deep into her flesh. Two Amazon women on horseback came into her vision. How they had approached so close without a sound before now was miraculous. Sharn’s gaze was instantly drawn to the first woman. A resplendent red head, tall and beautifully. Her long red strands fell over her polished armour which was stunningly crafted, the woman’s breasts crafted in steel with large caps representing her nipples hidden below. This warrior was different in so much that her leggings were also encased in steel, polished so bright that they were painful to stare at in the increasing morning sunlight. The saddle hid the woman’s pussy from sight but Sharn could easily tell that she too was not wearing anything around her crotch by the hue of creamy white skin exposed at the base of her chest armour.

The woman said something to her companion in a strange tongue, her eyes never leaving the form of Sharn in the grass below. Sharn couldn’t understand the words, spoken fast, flowing one into the next. She couldn’t tell if this was a question directed at her or a comment made to the warrior on the second horse. Sharn glanced over. Unlike the first warrior woman who rode a tall white stead, this Amazon sat on a tan beast. Although her armour was not as splendid as her companions, was still a worthy looking woman. Golden blond hair, cut short to her creamy white neck, bright blue eyes staring harshly in her direction. Sharn did not dare look downwards to see if this woman was too naked at her crotch.

The first woman spoke again. This woman was the leader. Sharn was sure of it now. Her tone and manner indicated authority. Her eyes were brown and cold, the look of a killer. Sharn remembered her village below, the sounds of the dying still in the air. Resolve took her. She wouldn’t die on the earth like some worthless worm. If she was to die at the hands of these stunning Amazon women with their perfect looks, polished armour and reckless nudity, then she would die with in a bow in her hands. With speed that amazed even her Sharn leapt from the ground her hands reaching to the bow on her back, releasing it and drawing it round it one fluid motion. Her spare hand had found her supply of arrows at the same time and as bow and arrow came together she was already raising her aim, pulling the bow string taunt as she made ready to fire.

With amazing dexterity the second blond haired warrior leapt from her saddle, hitting the ground as was on her feet in moments. Sharn caught a brief glimpse of the woman’s triangle of blond pubic hairs nestled between creamy white thighs before the warrior’s sword blade swatted her bow from her hand. A blow to the head sent Sharn reeling back to the ground as the warrior woman followed up with a strike with the back of her hand. Sharn felt the tears welling in her eyes from the smarting pain of the hit, whilst the first women with the red hair and cold eyes slowly dismounted from her horse. The blond warrior grabbed Sharn by the hair and roughly twisted her over onto her stomach on the cold damp ground. Then she felt the weight of the warrior leader as she descended over her. A knee was pushed harshly into her back a cold steel blade appeared at Sharn’s throat close enough to gently brush the surface of her skin.

Sharn felt the terror rise in her again. She was going to die and it would be here and now. Once again she felt the warm sensation around her crotch as she peed herself with fear. Suddenly a new warm wet sensation appeared, pattering over the back of her head. It took Sharn several seconds to realise what was happening whilst every moment the wet sensation increased in force soaking through her hair, a warm damp flow passing over the back of her neck and into the rear of her tunic. ‘She’s pissing all over me’ said Sharn’s mind in disbelief. The warm flow continued to emanate through her hair, the force of the stream strong against the back of her head. Warm trails of piss were flowing down her back soaking her tunic before reaching her waist where it ran around her skin and dripped to the earth.

Sharn lay quite still whilst the warrior woman relieved herself over the rear of her head and back. Sharn could hear the loud hissing the woman’s pee made as it gushed forth out of her slit before shooting through the air to spray into her hair which was now sodden with warm pee. Her own ragged breathing seemed somehow distant as if somebody else was breathing for her. All she could feel was the unceasing flow of piss spraying over the back of her head and flowing down her back. The warmth was wonderful, the shame of it unbelievable. Could anybody in the village witness this event if they weren’t too busy dying? What would they think to look up at the hill and see this warrior leader busily relieving herself over the young huntress who had not even managed to a single shot?

The impact point of the woman’s pee on the back of her head was diminishing now. The warm trail of piss flowing down her back reducing as the flow of urine ceased. The cold blade which had been at her throat all the time the woman had been relieving herself suddenly vanished. She felt the woman stand up and move away. Sharn just lay in the grass, covered in the woman’s piss. She was utterly spent, the shame of being used as a toilet by this woman stealing her energy. Dimly she wondered what would happen next when suddenly she felt the feet of the second woman coming to stand on either side of her waist. She nearly cried out loud when her skirt was suddenly flicked upwards exposing her wide peach like bum cheeks to the open air. Fear made her bit her tongue, painfully so, drawing blood. Then a new familiar sensation arrived, this time pattering over her bare bum as the blond warrior started her piss. From above Sharn’s buttocks, a thick twisting steam of hot pee was flowing out of the blond woman’s cunt. It fell downwards in a twisting fountain to land over Sharn’s exposed bum, running over her curved cheeks, off to the sides and between the groove and over her bum hole, soaking the hairs of her own pussy with this woman’s urine.

Once again Sharn was used as a receptacle for a warrior woman’s piss, her body being subjected to a hot flow of running urine whilst the woman peed all over her. The woman had taken a step forwards bring her fountain of flowing piss to land over the back of Sharn’s tunic. Now Sharn was having her back pissed over, this time having hot pee run over the back of her tunic instead of over her skin underneath. This woman’s toilet lasted another couple of seconds. She finished with one long burst of piss which shot from her pussy lips and fell just shot of Sharn’s head.

Sharn lay in the piss stained dirt not daring to move. ‘What now’ she wondered. Maybe they would bring up the rest of the troops and one by one they would squat down over her naked body and subject her to a shower of pee. Maybe they would just abandon her here, a piss stained tribute to the horror they had delivered to the village’. Strong hands grabbed her and pulled her roughly to her feet. Blinking pee out of her eyes from where it had run round the back of her head during the first woman’s piss, Sharn tried to focus. With a shock she realised that the Amazon leader who had pulled her up, was completely devoid of hair around her pussy lips. Sharn gazed in wonder at the sight of the tight slit of the woman’s pussy, her clit clearly visible at the top. In her village no woman would ever shave her vagina and yet here was this powerful woman clearly showing off her naked pussy for the world to see.

Sharn was pulled from her musings by sharp foreign words obviously spoken for her benefit. She tried to reply, to state that she didn’t understand, but as she opened her mouth she suddenly tasted the piss on her lips, salty and strange to her taste buds. Roughly, the warrior leader threw Sharn in the direction of the second warrior who caught her and forced her to stand straight whilst she tried her hands together with a strong thin rope. Head hung low Sharn stared at the woman’s pussy, the blond triangle of pubic hairs which only recently had been squirting her body with a shower of hot pee. After securing her hands the blond warrior roughly turned Sharn around and all vision was lost as she then tied a blind around Sharn’s eyes. The next thing she knew, her clothes were being roughly stripped from her skin exposing her nudity to her foes. Now naked she was pushed forwards roughly being held on one shoulder to steer her down the hill. The reek of burning wood and the smell of charcoaled flesh filled the air. Sharn wondered in abject misery how many yet lived in her village. At least with her clothes removed it may not be obvious to any survivors as to what had happened on the hill.

Her mouth was still filled with the sharp tang of piss and her skin was beginning to chill as the damp stains on her flesh began to dry. Standing shivering in the cold air she waited in darkness straining to make out the various sounds around her. Not once did she hear a familiar voice only the strange language of these warrior women who had sowed their seed of destruction on her village. Eventually a new pair of strong female hands grabbed her and helped her roughly on to the back of a horse. Seconds later she was joined by a warrior behind her. The cold of her armour stole the last of the warmth from her bare skin, the hardened steel nipples of the woman’s upper armour pressing cruelly into her back. In contrast, Sharn’s bare bum cheeks were suddenly warmed as the woman pressed up closely in the saddle next to her, feeling the woman’s pubic hairs of her pussy pressed up against her backside. An order was barked out, Sharn recognising the leader’s strong voice. Then the horse she was mounted upon turned and started a brisk walk. From the sound around her, Sharn realised that they were not alone and that the Amazon women were leaving. Behind her came the low howl of a village dog and Sharn realised that this creature may be the only thing left alive in her village. Breaking down in both shame and loss she started to cry. The woman in the saddle behind her offered no comfort, only a hard grasp to stop her from falling from their mount.

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