Legends of the Fel - Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Sharn stared at her naked blond opponent. The girl was a cold beauty her flawless body perfectly formed. Every curve of her shapely figure seemed to have been created by a master craftsman dedicated to his art. A small matting of blond curly hairs formed a triangle of protective hair around the groove of made by the girl's pussy lips. It was only just possible to see the protuberance of her clit sticking out at the top her love channel. Her breasts were small but beautifully proportioned to the rest of her lithe body. Red welts surrounded the girl's hardened nipples and as Sharn stared at the girl's tits she suddenly realised just how horny this situation was making her opponent.

The fact that her opponent was getting a sexual thrill from the pending fight suddenly gave Sharn an incredible idea. For her own part, facing almost certain death at the hands of this cold blue eyed killer, Sharn was on the verge of letting her terror getting the better of her. The shouts and calls from the surveying crowd of Fel women watching from all sides, rose in her ears as a rising crescendo of sound which threatened to numb her with its intensity. The need to pee was desperate in her bladder as fear of her death rose with a promise of certainty as Sharn's wandering gaze fell to the shining steel blade in her opponent's steady hand. In her brain, her thoughts were running wild with crazy and impossible ideas of flight from her predicament. However as the seconds raced by with the pending certitude of the coming fight, one thought, one possible glimpse at salvation, lingered foremost at the centre of her brain.

When Sharn had previously fought this nubile young goddess of war in their training games, she had always lost. However Sharn had always been aware of the one fact that she was marginally faster than the other girl. This miniscule advantage had never been enough to even hint at the chance of victory, but now, faced with almost certain death, this memory was giving Sharn a hint at possible salvation.

Suddenly the crowd's roars soared to a new level as the presiding marshal moving into the centre of the sand covered area. Sharn stared at the warrior woman with a new found hate. The tall Fel warrior was adorned with a shining breastplate of steel tempered to exaggerate the shape of her full and shapely breasts. Hard steel nipples completed this effect creating an illusion of alluring temptation. This coupled with the triangular mass of dark brown pubic hairs nestled between the woman's legs should have made her an object of utter desirability as was the allure of any Fel woman. However at this moment in time Sharn could think of nothing more hateful. This strutting woman with her polished sword held high in the air in preparation of declaring the start of the pending slaughter, represented to Sharn the pinnacle of everything she had come to despise in her captors. What with their utter arrogance and their perfect bodies plus their constant need to piss all over their subjugated slaves

The marshal's sword began in downwards swing. Sharn watched the beginning of its descent as if in slow motion. The cry of the crowd, eager for the sight of spilt blood had all but vanished from her ears. Sharn's waking world had become the beat of her heart, the cold touch of the sand beneath her feet, the sensation of every waking cell pulsing with a focused need of energy waiting to be released. The marshal's sword was half way through its motion now. Sharn's hazel eyes were locked onto her opponents steel blue orbs. There it was, the moment of distraction! The blond naked killer opposition Sharn had shifted her focus for the briefest of seconds. Knowing that the time had arrived, Sharn moved into action.

With a piercing scream she leapt forwards, her own weapon falling discarded from her hand as she moved. Her call was a cry of anguish, of pain, of grief, and of hated. All the emotions that she had been forced to bottle up during her time of captivity by these depraved Fel women was carried in her voice. The constant humiliation and shame she had felt as the warrior women had pissed all over her body, time and time again, was now leaving her throat as she launched herself towards her foe.

Sharn's lithe body was now in the air hurtling forwards across the short space that parted the two combatants. Her scream continued as the distance closed. The loss and brutal slaughter of her family was in her scream, as was all the fear she carried for the loss of her land to these unstoppable warrior women. She was almost upon her opponent now. The blond killer was now only just reacting to the events upon her. Her right hand was now in motion bringing up the cruel edge of her weapon to bear on Sharn's defenceless body. However her reactions were a fraction too slow, numbed only just enough by Sharn's voice of rage as she flew towards her.

Time jumped back into line with reality. Sharn impacted into the blond girl's body, driving the air from her lungs and sending her sprawling backwards. A lancing pain drove into Sharn's brain as she scrambled upwards from their impact and she dimly realised she had been cut by a flailing sword as her naked opponent dropped to the sandy ground. Knowing that to hesitate for the briefest of moments would spell her doom, Sharn continued her attack. Cruelly she aimed a punch at the blond girl's nose, delivering a shocking blow that delivered a sharp snapping sound and an explosion of blood from the girl's face. Ignoring the shock of pain racing upwards from her bruised knuckles she rained down another blow, fuelling her strike with all her desperate rage. The blond girl went down, her body smacking the sand with a dull sound that reverberated through Sharn's ears. A silence had stolen the voice from the crowd as they watched with amazement at the unexpected turn of events.

Sharn's panting breath was ragged as she raised her arm for another strike at the defenceless blond girl below her. In her peripheral vision she could just make out the sight of the Amazon marshal moving to intercept the fight before it could continue. A wave of realisation came over Sharn at that moment as a shattering bolt of knowledge pierced her brain. She had never been expected to win this fight. The Fel had known all along that the other girl had been the favourite, the crowd pleaser. Numbness threatened to overcome Sharn at the revelation of the unfairness that had been focused upon her. The crowd had wanted, no, needed to see her blood spilt upon the sand this day, to witness her end as her life fled from her slain body. Now here she was, with possible victory so close and now about to stolen from her by the Fel marshal woman.

A steel of resolve rose into Sharn's soul at that moment. This was definitely not the way things would go. She stared down at the mess she had made of the once pretty girl's face. In the back of her head a stealing pain was screaming for attention but Sharn ignored it. Oblivious even to the red stain marking her belly Sharn gazed downwards at the sight of her naked, brown haired muff hovering only inches away from the face of her defeated foe. The need to pee was a simple one to obey, her racked nerves collapsing as she released the muscles which were sealing her pee hole shut. Barely a moment later and Sharn was pissing. Between her sweat soaked and sand covered legs a hot golden stream was now raining downwards in a thick twisting stream. Her golden shower impacted on the blond girl's face, striking her right cheek and running off in all directions. Immediately the fallen blond began to cough and stutter as Sharn's hot piss ran around her nose and mouth.

"Drink it you BITCH!" Sharn commanded in a hissed whisper. Already she could she the advancing marshal switching to a run as she made to incept the actions going on between the two fighters. Too late! The blond girl, gagging for air made a grievous mistake. Turning her head she open her mouth to gasp for air only to be rewarded by Sharn's hot squirting urine as she aimed it as best she could into the mouth of her opponent.

Blue eyes stared with dismay up at Sharn's face as slow realisation came as to what was being done to her. The look immediately turned to hate and she immediately stated to gag at the hot piss in her mouth. Sharn didn't stop. By Fel law and with the crowd as witness she now claimed the blond warrior as her own bond slave. The ancient ritual of pissing in another's mouth as claim to bondage was too deeply established for any excuse to lay claim to. No! Even though she had won, even though she had claimed the servitude of her fallen foe, Sharn did not stop her squirting piss shower. Between her lithe and muscled legs, Sharn's golden relief continued to rain downwards, covering the struggling blonde's face with hot piss. Exultation ran though Sharn's body as she savoured just how complete her victory was. The sensation of releasing her piss was as gorgeous as was the thrill of finally being able to piss in another's mouth. The sight of her twisting golden pee as it left her pee hole was incredible to behold just as was the resulting scene of her urine flowing over the blonde girl's face and body.

Slowly and without stopping her toilet, Sharn rose to her legs. Between her shapely thighs, her golden rain continued to fall downwards. Gherian was covered in Sharn's spent pee by now. Golden traces of urine trickled down past her breasts and her hair was sodden with Sharn's piss. The arena was deathly quite. Staring around Sharn took in the gazes of the watching Fel. Joy and relief poured though her body as the sensation of still being alive washed through her. Between her legs, her opponent endured her punishment with all the training the Fel had instilled in her. Servitude was absolute, certain death to rebel.

Sharn was suddenly aware of a voice high up in the watching crowd of Fel women. For a second she didn't recognise the words but then she realised that it was her own name that was being called. The last yellow drops of hot, body warmed piss dripped from her pussy lips and fell onto the hapless Gherian.

Sharn looked upwards to find Felquest's figure stood amongst taller Fel warrior women. It was she who was calling out 'Sharn' in a repetitive shout. Slowly and amazingly the call was taken out by those around Felquest. At first the hesitation in the voices was apparent but then the chorus started to take on vigour. Slowly the call built, echoing around the arena and seeming to soar upwards to challenge the heavens.

"Sharn!"

"Sharn!"

"SHARN!"

The Fel were stamping their bare feet upon the wooden floor of their enclosures. The sound racketed downwards mixing with the call of her name. Sharn stared in bewilderment at the crowd and their now completely enthusiastic rapture. She had finally done it! Here and now, Sharn of the lost village of Ternhast, former huntress of the slain clan of Delahean, was now a fully fledged Amazon warrior woman of the Fel.

Continued in Chapter 11