Monsters and Maidens: A Simple Job
Bretta’s Story: Overconfidence and Obedience
Bretta Swiftsilver swore as she felt another newbie fall. That made three out of the four, and since the useless idiot hadn’t bothered with basic tracking magic, there was little way to find her.
Screw it, looking for them had been a waste of time. She was supposed to be a warrior, not some glorified babysitter. Whatever, this was still just a beginner mission, she’d have no trouble finishing it on her own. Hell, she could probably handle it blindfolded with one arm tied behind her back. Just so long as it wasn’t her stabbing arm.
It’s not like the forest was much of a threat. A trio of overconfident frogmen tried to jump her, only to get cut down as quickly as they appeared. Off in the distance, she could hear a singing beacon plant try to snare her. That one called for a wide berth, but easy enough to avoid as long as you didn’t wander straight up to it like a gibbering moron.
Something crashed out of the bushes at her side.
“Hey babe, ready to get fu- ach!”
He collapsed to the ground, choking after catching the butt of her spear right in his windpipe.
“Really?” she scoffed, “that’s what you’re going to pick for your last words?”
The monster snarled, forcing itself back to its feet.
“I’m going to fuck your cunt raw,” he said, advancing on her.
“Honestly, that one’s not much better,” she said, rolling her eyes as she dispatched him with another thrust.
“Pitiful,” she said as he fell to the ground, “a low level creature pretending it it was some sort of threat.”
Hoisting her spear, she set off once more at a light jog. Losing their ship had not just scattered the team, but had cost them valuable time as well. The caravan would be coming soon, and she’d better be there if she wanted to salvage something from this clusterfuck.
It took her maybe twenty minutes and another pair of skirmishes to find the road. Another ten to get in place at the bridge. The structure itself was a long, low thing. Stone pylons driven deep into the muck, stretching well over a hundred meters in total. There were other ways to cross on foot, but none that would allow wagons.
Bretta heard them coming before she saw anything. The trees were thick here, and she had no trouble hiding herself from view of the approaching caravan. The lizardmen bore some resemblance to the more primitive monsters that populated the swamp, but were unmistakable to a trained eye. Even a casual observer, though, would notice that these monsters were far more heavily armored than their primitive cousins.
No weapons, though, or at least not the swords or spears you might expect from such a convoy. These creatures had a very different purpose to their fighting, after all, and needed only muscle and claws. Especially since those claws were coated in a thick layer of aphrodisiac.
There were ten of them, altogether, though only half were seriously arrayed for battle. They couldn’t have been that high level, or else her band of recruits wouldn’t have stood a chance. Two or three would fall in the first attack, if she was careful, maybe four. After that, her natural fighting prowess would carry the rest.
As the wagons trundled forward, she got her first look at the primary objective. Elina Starsinger was a tall, lithe spellcaster with sky blue hair and a slender build. Normally, she favored thin blue robes that magically clung to her curves, but today she was completely nude save for the jeweled tiara threaded through her braids.
The woman was held alone in the third of the caged wagons, surrounded by four guards, two on either side. Not that she gave them any mind. Starsinger knelt down in the middle of the wagon, her head bowed in oblivious submission. The mage’s hands were bound behind her back, tied to a post at the back of the cage. Not that it mattered, so long as she wore the collar. The mage was so much higher level than anyone here, and could have destroyed the entire caravan with a thought if she had been freed to act, but was at their utter mercy so long as she wore the collar.
The lead troops were the most wary, so she let the first wagon cross before striking. Only two wend down in the first attack, but they were two of the best armored.
He spear sang out, whipping towards a third guard. He got out of the way just in time to avoid a disabling strike, but still took a wide cut across his arm. That was enough to raise an alarm, and soon the rest of their troop was rushing towards her. Bretta caught the first one in the leg, sending him flailing on the ground. Another tried to bullrush her, but a simple backflip atop the wagons took her out of harm’s way.
This was why she stayed, putting up with humiliation and objectification all the while. It wasn’t for fame (few became truly enduring celebrities), or for the money (though it was much more than she would have made elsewhere). No, it was for moments like this, when she was consumed by the thrill of battle, the joy of competition. Her body moved in ways that were all but impossible outside, and although she had worked hard to hone her reflexes, her real body could never experience the sheer poetry of motion that was possible here.
Two more guards fell as they rounded the corner. That made four, then, and another two wounded enough to pose little threat. Just four more to put down. She could handle that fine.
A weighted net came down, catching her spear and nearly enveloping Bretta herself. Right, that’s what happens when you got careless. If any of the newbies had let their guard down for that crap, she would have torn into them. Luckily, there was nobody here to see this, except for the enemies, and the viewers, and the thousands upon thousands of people who might watch the highlight replays.
Ok, so it was a stupid move.
Her spear was hopelessly tangled, but she was far from helpless. Calling upon her powers, Bretta launched into a Flurry of Blows that caught the overconfident opponent offguard and put him down for the count.
Unfortunately, she didn’t come away entirely unscathed this time. Before he fell, the monster managed a raking slice across her stomach and forearm with his long claws. Her armor managed to deflect the first strike, but her bare arm received a sharp scratch. It didn’t look bad, and barely even hurt, but it did allow a large dose of their aphrodisiac venom to enter her bloodstream.
Now that was a distraction she really didn’t need. With the venom coursing through her, her sharp, wire thin focus was broken. Instead, she became aware of her body in ways that did absolutely nothing to help her battle. Attention was drawn to the weight of her breasts, the way her tight corset armor held them snug. Her skirt swished with every step, and suddenly she was very conscious of how smoothly it rubbed against her legs. Not to mention that aching itch between her legs.
Screw that, she could deal with it later, once she’d stopped these creeps. Hell, maybe Elina would prove grateful at being freed from her collar. Wouldn’t that make for a good show? Ratings would get a nice boost, if they capped off the mission with a little post rescue lesbianism.
Damn it, even when she tried to ignore it, her thoughts turned towards sex. Unfortunately, her opponents had also caught wind of her change.
“Pretty warrior girl,” their leader said, “Are you sure you want to fight? I’m willing to play nice if you are.”
“Keep talking trash. You’re still just a bunch of low level mobs, and I’m a trained warrior.”
“Ha! More like a trained cocksucker,” the one on the left said.
Without another word, Bretta launched into him, trying for a quick knockout blow. This was harder than the early fight had been. There were three of them, and unlike before they were ready to take her on. Their leader was higher level, almost as high as her own, but he wasn’t anywhere near as good. If it had been one on one, she would have put him down fast and hard (ew, don’t think about it like that). As it was, whenever she had an opening there were two more monsters ready to blindside her.
“Fucking newbies,” she muttered. If the rest of those idiots had been there, this would have been an easy fight. As it was, though, Bretta had to use everything at her disposal just to stay clear.
She was making ground, though. After a few minutes of bouncing around, she managed to take out the weakest of the three. It wasn’t much, but she’d badly needed a victory. Especially since their every glancing blow delivered more of their distracting venom.
There was an opening, though. She managed to knock down the lesser guard and tie him up in the net. It wasn’t much, but for a brief minute she would have her last opponent all to herself. If she could end him here, it would be an easy victory, and for the time being they were one against one.
Or so she thought. Bretta went to press the advantage, only to get bowled down as someone jumped on her back.
For one brief, stupid second she let it happen. Her body cried out for a man’s touch, and no matter how idiotic it was, her first instinctive reaction was to melt into his touch. It didn’t take long to come to her senses, just seconds, really. Even pinned down, she was skilled and powerful enough to shake him off and win this fight. She just needed an extra second or two.
As it happened, time was one thing she simply did not have.
Bretta prepared to throw the asshole on her back, only to feel the soft click as something latched around her throat. Oh fuck, it was a slave collar. She had to get it off, quick, before it had time to set in.
She tossed him off, looking around desperately for the key, but it was nowhere to be found. The monsters held back, looking expectantly as she struggled with the collar. Pins and needles flooded her skin, but in an almost pleasant way, as if a hundred thousand icy kisses were trailing from head to toe. A heady, inescapable lassitude began to overtake her, and no matter how hard she tried Bretta was unable to fight it off.
“Fucking newbies,” she said again as the last of her volition drained away.
Then she was gone, all of her will and volition sapped completely. The combat stance fell away, replaced by a blank stare as she looked at the few remaining monsters. Her eyes noted the leader’s toothy grin as he pulled out the command rod, but her mind was unable to assign any emotional weight to it.
“Shiny warrior girl, you’re ours now. Show us your tits, warrior girl.”
Bretta did so without any hesitation or resistance, casting aside her armored top and pulling down the liner that had been underneath so that both of her breasts were openly exposed for all to see. They looked like pale creamy mounds, topped by full, peach covered areola.
There was the faintest trace of shame as she bared herself to the monsters, but it was a muted thing, and not for a second did she consider covering herself back up. Bretta could still think and reason, the collar did nothing to interrupt that, but so long as she wore it her will was utterly and completely subordinate to his.
“Squeeze them for us,” he commanded, and so she did. As her hands massaged her breasts for their pleasure, Bretta was reminded about all of the venom still coursing through her. The collar’s dampening did leave a slight disconnect, but it did nothing to muffle how much the chemicals had affected her body.
I wonder if they’ll fuck me, she thought absently. Probably. It was what they had paid for, after all, plus the viewers wanted a good show.
That would be nice. Bretta would enjoy getting fucked. He’d taken his cock out and was stroking it openly. It was a nice cock. All of them were.
“On your knees,” he said, “crawl around like dog.”
Bretta did so, wondering if she should make doggy noises too. No, they had only commanded her to crawl, she did not want to displease him by doing the wrong thing, and so she crawled for them.
“Ass up, time for a fucking,” the leader told her.
As she knelt down and prepared to get fucked, Bretta reflected on her life. She had lost the mission, that much was clear, but she found that she did not care all that much. It was strange, the slave collar was nothing like she had expected. To be honest, she had figured that it would mean getting trapped unwillingly inside of her body, or else it would simply shut down her mind for the duration.
Neither of was really true. Instead, it was as if they had turned off the part of her that cared, and replaced it with an urge to obey. Everything else was completely intact, as evidenced by the fact that she was thinking about this at all, but at the same time those thoughts were completely and totally subservient to the part that needed her to obey.
Bretta moaned lewdly as her captor’s cock filled her ass, chasing away her train of thought. Despite everything, she could still feel, and what she was feeling right then was overwhelming arousal. It felt good to get fucked, she just wished that there was something to fill her pussy, too.
“Damn, your ass is fucking tight,” he said as he plowed deep into her rear.
“Look at that slut, she loves it,” said another of the lizardman guards.
“Is that right? You love taking it up the ass? Answer me slut.”
“Yes master,” she said, grunting out the words in between his thrusts, “This slave loves feeling your cock inside her.”
“You hear that? She can’t get enough,” one of them laughed.
It was true. Not only was she compelled to please him, but she was also debilitatingly horny, especially when he raked his claws down her back. Not only did he “mark her as his bitch”, but also delivered another shot of the lust maddening venom into her already saturated body.
Another stepped in front of her. The wounded one whose arm she had crippled during the first attack. He was not in charge, but he had been the one to get the collar on her. He reached down with his good arm, a long, dripping claw curled around her chin, pressing lightly against her soft throat.
“Open up, bitch,” he commanded.
He did not hold the control rod, and so was not her master, but he was still her superior. In absence of a command otherwise, she would serve him how ever he desired, and so Bretta had absolutely no objection to opening her mouth and taking his cock deep down her throat.
It felt good, to her lust addled mind, to take both of the men at once. Knowing that the others were lined up to take their turn only heightened her anticipation. Bretta had lost the match, but in her current state she had no objections. The collar meant that she would blithely serve them whenever, however, and for as long as they desired.
There was no GAME OVER message for Bretta. She had not been defeated, she had been enslaved. Her condition would not be ended at the conclusion of this mission. It would last for as long as she went without a rescue.
It was a thought that once would have horrified her, but no longer. She was a slave, and cared only that she fulfill her masters’ commands.