Red Sonja: The Sorceress's Tale (Part 1)

A savage, beautiful warrior woman was running up the steps to my tower, blood on her sword and vengeance in her eyes. Her body was shaped by battle and the ferocity of the wild, her hair a mane of fire red, fearless and deadly. She was a warrior of legend, immortal, the champion of the fire goddess, thundering up the steps with a solitary purpose: my death.

And I couldn’t have been more pleased.

Watching her through my seeing orb, I stroked its glassy surface with the back of my fingers. I knew she wouldn’t be able to feel my touch, nor could I feel the softness of her skin or the firmness of her body, but she was so beautiful at that moment I couldn’t resist. She was truly in her element, gloriously wild and powerful, a myth come to life, no less than a dragon soaring through the sky or a unicorn charging across a field.

Sensing my excitement, Lithis perked up, flicking out his tongue. At his perch beside my throne, coiled around the base of my seeing orb, he let out a low, eager hiss and slithered closer, his muscles flexing beneath his shimmering scales.

“The she-devil will be here soon, mistress,” said one of my handmaids, “Shall we take her then?”

I glanced over my shoulder at the small group of young women I kept by my side. Handpicked, delicate and beautiful, they had all been of substance before they’d come to me, nobles, high born, even royalty. Now they wore sheer black robes adorned with the eye of Set and watched me with the same intense loyalty as a puppy does its master.

The one that had spoken to me had been a princess, fair-haired and lovely. She’d been quite spirited before the power of Set had made her see the true way.

I smiled fondly, stroking Lithis’ head with a fingertip.

“Be at ease; it will be soon,” I turned to my guards, “Step away from the doors, please. Come here, behind my throne and be at your ease until I call.”

My guards glanced at each other. They were large, powerful, champions with sword and spear and clad in the fearsome, obsidian scaled armor of my elite soldiers. They had been chosen from among my best warriors, the most skilled, the strongest and most deadly.

Nevertheless, they quickly obeyed my orders, leaving their posts at the door to flank either side of my throne.

It was good they’d done so. If they’d stayed, Sonja would have just killed them, and that would have been a waste. Elite death troopers didn’t simply sprout from the ground like turnips.

No sooner had the armored men took position behind me, than the doors to my throne room were kicked inwards. They slammed into the walls with a mighty crash and the she-devil herself marched through.

I no longer needed my seeing orb to see the fire-haired beauty. I turned to regard her with a small smile, taking my time to enjoy her.

Red Sonja. The Hyrkanian she-devil, spirit of vengeance, as lovely as she was fierce. Fair-skinned, she had eyes of jade, her delicate, pretty features a contrast to her wild hair and powerful body. Her armor was mere decoration, little more than a silver bra and glittering loin cloth, with flared pauldrons set at her shoulders. She wore leather boots and swordsman gloves, her thick thighs and sleek biceps wrapped in metal jewelry and talismans, her only other weapon a dagger strapped to her leg.

It was the barbarian way to be disdainful of enemy steel, letting their bodies be free, light, and swift. It didn’t function in formation battles, where a rain of arrows would decimate such lightly armored troops, but in single combat or while mounted on a horse, it was a deadly combination.

I appreciated it for what it was, admiring her muscular, hourglass figure. No amount of armor would have protected her from my power anyway.

“Welcome, Red Sonja,” I said to her, “I’ve awaited your arrival with tingling anticipation.”

The warrior woman’s hips swayed as she marched into the room, brushing the hanging flap of her armored loin cloth. Though she’d just fought her way through dozens of men and sprinted up flights of stairs, she seemed barely out of breath, her expression cool and calculating as those jade eyes scanned the room. Her goddess had blessed her with endurance beyond that of a normal woman and if the tales were true, she’d slain many other warrior sorceresses over the decades.

She thought this was simply yet another of her adventures. How sorely she was mistaken.

After warily eyeing my guards and her surroundings, she stopped in the center of the room. When her eyes leveled on me, her brow lowered and her lips tightened, nose wrinkling like a snarling puma. She clearly wasn’t fond of me.

“Annaxus,” she pointed her sword, “I’ve come for your head. Slither down from your roost, snake worshipper, or I will kill you where you sit.”

My guards tensed at that, making to step forward. I held up a hand to stop them and they obeyed.

“I know why you’ve come, fair Sonja,” I replied, “And I’m grateful the great god Set has seen fit to deliver you to me. It saves me the trouble of tracking you down.”

I stood up from my throne and reached towards the ceiling, stretching and arching my back.

“I sent men to bring you to me, you know,” I said.

“I know,” Sonja growled, “They’re dead now.”

“I suspected as much,” I sighed, “It’s good. I prefer it this way…”

Finishing my stretch, I brushed my robes from my shoulders and let them fall to the floor, in dark, silken pools. Beneath, my body was encased in fine, oily black scales from shoulders to hips, my arms and legs left entirely bare but for a small hole id had made to show my cleavage. I had a fine figure myself, no more afraid to show it than Sonja was, although there were distinct differences between us.

While Sonja’s skin was fair, mind was ghostly pale, a stark contrast to my shining curtain of onyx hair. I was well kept and groomed, lips a glossy black, shadow added to my lashes and cheeks, intentionally sultry and beautiful. The only color I wore other than black or white was the golden yellow of my eyes, which I knew were large and haunting.

I smiled crookedly at Sonja, plucked my sword from where it rested against my throne, then descended the steps of my dais. I took them one at a time, slowly and delicately, like the goddess I was.

“You may prefer it less when your blood is on my blade,” Sonja raised her sword, “The people’s army is already inside the city walls. I wager there will be great celebration when I show them your head.”

I couldn’t help grinning at that.

“Ah, yes,” I said, “The people’s army… that force of peasants you’ve cobbled together, along with your warrior companions. Inside my city.”

I reached the marble floor, sliding my sword free of its sheath. While the hilt was silver, the blade was black and gleamed like it was covered with oil.

“Within the walls of my city,” I said again, “Where they will be easy to surround when my reinforcements arrive. How do you think they’ll fare, surrounded while at the same time fighting my forces in their center?”

Sonja narrowed her eyes, showing her teeth, “The city is already taken. Your empire crumbles around you, Annaxus. How long do you think your soldiers will continue fighting when they see you dead?”

I advanced towards and touched the tip of my blade to hers. I slid my blade teasingly along her Hyrkanian steel, caressing, the metal grating faintly.

Oh, how I’d yearned for this…

“You would have a point,” I grinned in return, “If it weren’t your fate to kneel before me.”

Sonja’s eyes flashed at that, “I kneel to no one!”

Her blade suddenly moved, batting mine aside, then leaping towards my throat.

I turned her attack aside and countered for her shoulder, but she leaned aside and struck in the same motion. I drew my blade back to block hers.

Clang! Crash, clang-clang!

We traded sweeping blows, night-steel meeting silver, both blades magical and without peer. Sparks flew as we danced, retreating, then coming together again, circling. Neither sword was superior to the other, neither chipping or losing its edge despite the continued clashing and scraping.

However, between the wielders of the swords, one quickly began to prove she was more than the other’s equal.

Sonja advanced on me, clashing her blade against mine several times, unanswered by a repost. I retreated, struggling to ward off her blows, then stepped to the side, attempting to circle around her and strike her in the back as she stumbled past me.

The she-devil saw the move coming. She swept her blade to the side and pain lanced across my bare thigh, almost distracting me from a follow up blow that would have decapitated me. I managed to deflect the upward strike to my neck, but stumbled backwards from the force of her blow.

I quickly retreated and circled away, licking my lips. A cut was opened across my bare thigh, my black blood oozing down my leg. The sight made a few of my handmaids gasp in distress and my guards stiffen, starting to move to my aid.

I held up a hand to stop them.

“Stay where you are,” I called lightly, “We’re just beginning.”

“She’s right,” Sonja glared at me, “Do not throw away your lives needlessly. I’m only here for the witch.”

We came together again, blades sparking and clanging in a shining, deadly display.

I managed to ward off most of her blows, then make a counter of my own, but she easily turned it aside and backed me up with a few more strikes.

I’m well educated with a sword, better than even my elite soldiers. I’d had training from the greatest masters, and it was a skill I kept honed as much as I did my magic.

Still, what Sonja had was almost beyond skill. She WAS her sword, the blade moving almost faster than thought, constantly testing my defenses, striking and withdrawing. Effortlessly, she made tiny adjustments, moving just out of range and back in to strike, sometimes abruptly lunging and making me stumble to keep up, other times still as a statue. Her gaze remained at my throat, her expression fierce but never blinking, like her body had a mind of its own, moving around her while she merely pictured her sword slicing into my neck.

I only grinned at her, keeping my eyes right on hers.

“Sonja the red,” I said between blows, “The Hyrkanian devil with a sword. So fierce. So swift. So… supple.”

I struck, disengaged, from her blade and struck again, thinking I might actually score.

I should have known better. She turned my blade aside, managed a cut across my bicep, followed by a slash at my eyes, trying to blind me.

I barely managed to lean back in time, her blade opening another cut over the bridge of my nose rather than taking my eyes. I retreated, turned aside a stabbing blow for my chest, then circled away once more, getting out of her range.

Black blood was seeping down my arm now, as well as my face. I was well marked, clearly outmatched in terms of swordplay, my opponent not even touched.

Nevertheless, I grinned at Sonja. In fact, I even laughed. I wiped my fingers across my nose, then flicked away some blood, a mere annoyance.

“So brave, facing me while your friends face my elite guard,” I laughed gaily, “I wonder how many of your companions have died during your quest for vengeance. I wonder if any are dying as we speak…”

She showed her teeth and lunged at me, crashing her blade against mine. I blocked the stroke and was driven back, still grinning, staring into her eyes.

“And even if you succeed, what then?” I leered, “Has your centuries long quest ever truly born fruit?”

I flicked my blade at her, teasing, not even truly trying to strike her and she slashed back, trying to take my hand at the wrist. I lowered my guard, stopping the stroke and locking my blade with hers.

“Are there less tyrants in the world?” I giggled, “Have my lord Set or the great Kulan Gath weakened even in the slightest? What have you achieved, other than to be in tales and songs?”

With our blades locked, I pushed into her, trying to force her back with sheer strength. So close, with our steel grating against one another’s, swordplay was no longer the game. If I could simply shove her down to her knees, or throw her off balance, I could score a clean cut, perhaps even win the duel.

But Red Sonja was taught to fight in close combat long before she learned to fence. She pushed back, then abruptly turned herself, twisting me off balance, then shoved into me while I tripped.

I banged into one of my totems to Set, back pinned against the faux snakeskin.

It was not a good place to be in this sort of duel. With my back pressed flat to the marble, I couldn’t brace with my legs or put any of my weight into the struggle. I only had the strength of my arms, one of which was weakened by a cut to the shoulder.

Sonja leaned in, pushing with her whole body, and gradually my own blade was pushed towards my throat.

I only laughed again, like this was a great joke.

“Go on, then!” I cackled into her face, “Kill me! See how long these people will last without my protection! See how long before another warlord rises up, less merciful than I! Will you come back and do this all over again, with new companions? Or will you simply go to another place that needs your “saving”?”

The blade pressed closer, now inches away from my neck. As it did, Red Sonja glared at me, those jade eyes of hers full of fire.

“Hear me, whatever gods stand behind this sorceress,” she stared through me, “I am Red Sonja. No matter how many you send, no matter their power, I will strike them down. I will cut them down season by season, like a farmer scythes his wheat, until I find a way to destroy you forever.”

She shoved hard. My blade touched my own throat.

“Whether now or a thousand years from now, I will protect those you would feed upon,” she snarled, “And destroy every vestige of influence you have on this world. My sword will cast you into the oblivion of forgotten spirits. So do I swear.”

She obviously thought that would be her triumphant moment. Another hard shove and she’d force my blade into my throat, then decapitate me with a swipe. I would ironically be killed by my own sword, fulfilling some silly prophecy made by an optimistic fool.

It might have ended just like that with many other opponents, but my eyes merely narrowed. My lips spread wide, smug and triumphant. I even leaned into the blade, trading a small cut for being able to look closer into her beautiful eyes.

“Oh, Sonja,” I chuckled, “Silly, savage Sonja… this was never about swords.”

Then I called on the power of Set. My golden eyes glowed, the pupils narrowing to snake-like slits, mirroring the eyes of my god himself. With his gaze, I stared into the she-devil, through her eyes and to her very soul.

“Look into my eyes, Red Sonja!” I hissed, “See true power!”

The swordswoman drew in a sharp breath, her eyes widening. Her body went rigid, stiffening like ice water had been poured down her back. She had realized too late the trap that had closed around her.

I smiled. The savage she-devil was a mouse, wrapped in my coils.

“Deep into my eyes…” I purred, “Yes… even your spirit is no match for the full power of Set… surrender your strength… your will… to me.”

Sonja’s grip tightened on the hilt of her sword. With one sharp move, she could cut my throat, perhaps even take my head off like she promised. I could feel she wanted very badly to do just that, but something was stopping her. She could no more move her sword than she could turn invisible.

“Wh-what…?” she gasped, “How… are you…?”

How lovely it was. For all her ferocity, Red Sonja was a beautiful creature, her features having the strength of a grown woman, but the ageless softness of a girl. She was often disarmingly pretty, many seeing her angelic, almost dollish face and not seeing the danger before her eyes turned dark and she stabbed them through the heart.

But now more startled girl was showing through her expression than her usual proud warrior. Her pouty lips were parted, brow furrowed slightly as she tried to glare, but those lovely green eyes of hers were so wide and astonished. Her ripe breasts heaved beneath her glittering brassiere, surprised, and even, dare I say, distressed. She was fighting my control, but this close, with such solid eye contact, she was a babe trying to wrestle a grizzly.

Rather than answer her, I pushed back against her blade.

At first her body instinctively resisted, trying to keep from losing ground. With all her will she was fighting, urging her arms to keep me pinned against the pillar, but my stare was distracting, splintering her focus. Her eyelashes fluttered, and then to her clear astonishment, her arms began to soften, buckling until the hilt of her sword pressed into her own chest.

“You are so weak when faced with true power…” I whispered, continuing to push, “So tired… so soft…”

I backed her up, slowly, almost like we were dancing. There was no need to rush. I pressed myself away from the pillar then gently forced her to retreat, one small step at a time, my golden eyes staring intently into hers.

She stared back

“So weak… so weary…” I breathed, “Small… helpless…”

My words were soft as silk, barely more sound than a gentle breeze. It was exactly what Sonja needed. The she-devil was hardy, used to resisting torture and hardship, but she had no defense against a gentle touch, soothing words.

Already I could see her eyelids beginning to droop. The shock was leaving her eyes, replaced with a weary bewilderment.

“No…” she managed to say, “I’m… I’m not…”

“You are but a babe in hand…” I gently replied, “Already deep under my control…”

My sword lowered from hers. I let it hang at my side; my true weapon already had her well in hand.

“And it feels wonderful…” I cooed, “To let go… to listen to my voice… to look into my eyes… and cease resisting…”

Her eyes were softening, the fire leaving them, her proud features growing soft and slack. Her mouth was beginning to hang and her eyelids lower, for all purposes like she was struggling to stay awake. But her eyes remained locked onto mine, her sword held awkwardly to her chest, out of habit but having forgotten why she held it.

“Your sword is heavy, Sonja… so heavy…” I said, “Lower it… let it go…”

My words themselves made the sword feel like an unbearable burden. It began to lower, but haltingly as she tried to resist.

“My…” she mumbled, “It’s… my…”

“Shhh…”

I took her chin between thumb and forefinger, tilting it up slightly to better see into her eyes.

“Listen to my voice…” my slit eyes bore down into hers, “It’s heavy… so heavy…”

Sonja was fighting as best she could. Giving up her sword stung her warrior’s spirit and the very thought made her squirm more desperately, fanning the flames of her resistance.

And that was what I wanted.

Her arms trembled, her eyelashes fluttering like a hummingbird’s wings as internally she fought with all her strength. But as I felt her struggle, my heart only warmed with pleasure.

“So heavy…” I said, “So heavy…”

The wise python doesn’t immediately try to crush its prey. She gently wraps her prey in her coils and lets it struggle, use up all its energy, while she slowly tightens her grip. At each inhale, she flexes, never letting her prey take a deep breath. It isn’t long before the creature’s strength is leeched away, the poor thing never understanding how its own struggles had been its downfall.

No creature could resist it. Not even a she-devil.

“So heavy…” I said once more.

Sonja’s sword tilted slowly down.

“So… heavy…” she whispered back.

I grinned, staring deeply into the warrior woman’s glassy eyes.

“Yesss…” I stroked her chin with my thumb, “Much too heavy… you no longer need it…”

The gleaming blade sank, her shoulders drooping like a melting candle. Her gaze was locked onto mine but empty, staring mindlessly back.

“Heavy…” she echoed in a weary monotone, “No longer… need it…”

The sword sank lower, then abruptly dropped when her left hand slipped free. Both arms flopped to her sides, her right still holding the sword but barely. The blade clanked against the marble floor, her grip loose, the handle already slipping through her glove. It dangled at her side while she stared mesmerized, held like a toy in the hand of a child, forgotten as they saw something shiny.

I stepped closer, holding her chin in hand, until my nose almost touched hers. Her eyes were just like emeralds, shining and empty, her pretty face soft, all but unconscious. I smoothed my thumb over her bottom lip, pulling down on it ever so slightly then letting it pop back up.

“The mighty Sonja…” I purred, my voice syrupy with pleasure, “All your skill with a sword is nothing now… and your goddess cannot help you…”

She stared back, her head heavy in my hand, letting me hold it.

I pressed my lips together and my grin grew tart. The moment was so sweet I could taste it.

“Now…” I whispered, “Surrender your will to me… and let go… of your sword.”

For a breath she continued to stare at me, not moving to obey or defy. The sword remained in her limp grasp, barely held, her stare unabated.

Then her eyes flashed golden. It was like they reflected the sun, but in reality, they were reflecting the glow in my own eyes, being filled by it. The light grew until for a moment her pupils were slit the same as mine, my own gaze staring back at me.

However, as quickly as it came, the glow abated. Her eyes returned to their normal green, suddenly glassy and lifeless after the bright blaze that had filled them. Any fire behind them was snuffed out.

Red Sonja let out a long sigh. Her posture melted, relaxing completely, leaning toward me and allowing my touch to support her. At last, her eyelids sank until they were more closed than open, her mind more dreaming than awake.

I didn’t see her famous sword slip from her fingers, but I heard it fall to the floor. It chimed almost like a bell, ringing for the last time, then was silenced.

The she-devil’s mind was leashed. And I held the other end in my loving hand.

I’d never grinned so fiercely in my life. Inevitably, but delightfully, Red Sonja was mine.

“And so ends,” I hissed, “The last battle of the she-devil with a sword.”

One of my handmaidens, who had been watching with baited breath, squirmed and cleared her throat. It must have appeared to her that the battle was over, perhaps in a way she didn’t understand, and wasn’t sure what she should do. Her concern made her call out.

“Your… your grace?”

I held up a hand to silence her. She wisely obeyed.

This was my moment. There was none other such as Sonja and now she would never defy me again. I wanted to enjoy this.

Gradually, I let my power recede, the glow fading from my eyes, my pupils returning to normal. I no longer needed the piercing stare, nor eye contact to bend my new slave to my will. Now inside her mental defenses, a part of me would always live there. All I would have to do to bring her to heel was tug on her leash.

Running my tongue over my teeth, I let my eyes drift down her chest, over her stomach, to her hips, then slowly back up again.

Even completely relaxed, her body was a carved masterpiece. Her shoulders were rounded and strong, breasts polished and firm, the grooves of her abdominals deep enough to hold water, while her hips flared out dramatically, thighs thick and powerful. Smudged with dirt and blood, nearly naked but for decorative metal and rough leather, she was a goddess of savage lands, a magnificent wild creature.

Now tamed at last.

I tilted my head, pouting my lips in teasing sympathy. I really did feel a little sorry for the warrior woman. She was so strong, so righteous, and thought those two facts alone meant she would find victory. It was both a little funny and a little sad. All her strength and force of will had meant so little. She was too deep in my grasp to even realize yet how completely she’d failed.

I couldn’t help but laugh. Letting go of her chin, I reached up to stroke her hair, chuckling merrily.

“Ohhh, Sonja,” I cooed, “You poor, poor thing.”

Her hair was a wild mess, truly more a mane than the combed strands of a lady. I had to pick my way through it, brushing down some clumps and tangles, some of which were so stiff they stood up like small horns. But still, it was rich and full, a pleasure to touch.

“You fought so hard,” I blushed a strand of hair behind her ear, “Came so far, and the results are the same as if you’d surrendered to me at the start. Worse, actually. The poor army you gathered…”

I let my hand lower from her hair to her belly button, then slowly raked my nails up the taut grooves of her stomach.

“They will be so heartbroken,” my hand rose to the metal link connecting her armored bra, “Seeing all their hopes destroyed. If only they’d stayed home and remained loyal and servile…”

I traced a finger over her sternum, nudging just between the plump shapes of her breasts.

“But fret not,” I looked back up into her face, “You will soon see it is for the best.”

Without my hand to support her, the barbarian swordswoman swayed lazily in place, hips drifting side to side while her head made dreamy circles. Her full lips were pursed gently, her eyes merely white slits, almost entirely closed. I knew she heard everything I said, a part of her even understood it, but her waking mind was subdued, lost in the void.

I grinned again and cupped beneath one of her presented breasts, then partook of a gentle squeeze.

Impossibly firm and ripe, exactly as it appeared. The armored brassiere protected part of it, but I could tell that much. She truly was a singular creature. She deserved to be in my possession.

Normally fiercely proud, Sonja didn’t even flinch at the insolent touch. Under my power, she would accept everything I did and everything I said would be an absolute truth. It would be that way for some time, until her scattered thoughts managed to congeal once more.

With this in mind, I circled her shoulder, dragging my hand across her other breast. Beside then behind her, I let me eyes wander, surveying her offerings while she swayed like a drunken statue.

On the way, I kicked her fallen sword out of my path. It slid across the floor and clacked against the wall.

“You have been defeated, Red Sonja,” I told her, eyeing her shoulder blades and back, “You have failed in your attempted coup, been captured, and you will be accept your deserved punishment. Do you understand?”

It took her a few moments, but I knew she heard and could speak. I awaited her answer.

“Defeated…” she whispered, “Failed… been captured… deserve… punishment…”

How very concise she was. Delightful.

Remembering the dagger at her thigh, I reached down and slipped it from its sheath. It was a well-crafted, pretty thing. I tossed it aside.

“You will be a slave now,” I continued as the dagger clattered away, “Any power gifted to you by your goddess will go to Set the almighty, and the rest of you will be mine. As it should be. As was always your destiny.”

“Slave now…” she obediently echoed, “Power to Set… rest yours… always my destiny…”

I placed my hand on the slab of her left shoulder blade and felt the firm shape, lean and strong from swinging a sword. Her brassiere was tied together with thin strips of leather, pulled taut across the long groove that traced the curve of her spine. The loin cloth was held in a similarly flimsy manner, hanging low on two leather thongs tied at her hips. If her hips weren’t so full, her backside so plush, it would have slipped right down to her ankles.

I tickled a finger down the curve of her spine.

“That’s settled, then,” I told her, then called out, “Handmaidens?”

My girls perked up, looking at me with sudden attentiveness.

I spared them a quick glance, “Fetch this poor thing’s fetters. We can’t have a wild creature wandering around the palace unleashed.”

“As you say, your grace.” They replied in unison.

The girls curtsied, wearing demure smiles, happy to have a chance to please me, then swished away towards the back of the room. Pushing aside a curtain, they disappeared into an antechamber, where many of my treasures were kept.

While I waited, I pinched the bottom of her metal loin cloth and lifted it up to peak underneath. I confess, I had always been curious about the undergarments of her type of barbarian.

A soft, tan hide was pulled taut between the tight swells of her bottom. I knew it was more for practicality sake, for freedom of motion, a bare minimum of protection, but I found it quite appealing how well it framed the shape of her flanks. I was fond of the sight in general; her rump was larger and more protruding than those of my slender handmaidens, most certainly.

I slipped my hand underneath the loincloth let my fingers see for me. I let my touch slide from one firm shape to the other, soft with relaxation but still so firm. A rare delicacy.

My touch wobbled the great warrior and she moaned softly, the sound of a confused, sleepy little calf.

“Shhh…” I cooed to her.

I leaned down and pressed a kiss to her shoulder. She was warm, had the faint taste of sweat.

“I will be enjoying you further soon enough,” I consoled her, “You must be patient, my slave.”

My handmaidens returned, brushing aside the curtain and filing out one by one. The three in the lead gleaming objects on velvet pillows, looking almost like fine jewelry. They were beautifully crafted of gold, decorated with serpents and my coat of arms, which was naturally the eye of set. However, they were too thick to be bracelets, bound together by heavy golden chains.

I squeezed the swollen shape of Sonja’s bottom, digging my fingers in as my heart swelled with delight.

“I had these made just for you, by my finest goldsmiths,” I purred to her, “Since then, they’ve waited in my treasure vault for you to arrive.”

I gave the plush shapes beneath her loin cloth a pat, feeling them ripple slightly beneath my hand.

“Let’s see how they look on you…”