Harem Wars: Win or Watch — C01
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The crowd roared as flames whipped around Rhexa. The sands beneath her feet fused to glass wherever she stepped, cracking and popping under her heavy boots. She drove her sword forward and poured her Aspect straight into the steel. The blade erupted. Orange fire licked up the fuller and spilled off the crossguard in fat, rolling waves.
Rhexa slammed her weapon against the opposing Muse’s round shield. She blasted heat outward, turning her own sweat to instant steam. The other fighter, a tall, lean woman channelling a Wind Aspect, braced both legs wide and shoved the shield forward with her full weight. Rhexa dug her heels into the glassed sand and pushed back. The contact point between sword and shield burned hot white.
The Wind Muse swept her spear low. Rhexa vaulted the shaft. Her massive breasts crushed against the tiny hammered-metal cups of her brassiere, soft flesh bulging over the rims and threatening to spill completely. She stretched her tall, thick frame to the absolute limit, barely held together by the sparse steel harness. She landed squarely, clenching her thighs, and the impact sent a hard jolt through the high-cut plated bikini bottom wedged tight over her wide hips. She whipped her head back and sent her crimson hair swinging in a heavy arc around her face. The long red locks blurred together with the actual fire she channelled into the blade until it was impossible to tell where one ended and the other began.
She fought like a living goddess, a sight to behold.
The Wind Muse lunged. She thrust the spear upward at Rhexa’s collarbone. Rhexa twisted her waist hard, dodging the point by an inch, and grabbed the long wooden shaft with her left hand. She yanked. The other woman stumbled forward, off-balance. Rhexa stepped immediately inside the guard and drove her knee over around the shield and straight into the woman’s gut.
The opponent moaned as the hit converted to pleasure. She buckled forward and dropped the spear. Rhexa stepped over the fallen weapon and slashed her burning sword against the shield. A massive shower of hot embers scattered across the sand. Rhexa looked like a roaring bonfire given legs and curves.
The Wind Muse recovered faster than she should have. She twisted, grabbed her fallen spear, and wrenched it sideways against Rhexa’s blade. She shoved the burning sword wide, out of line, and a violent concentrated blast of air exploded point-blank from the weapon’s tip and caught Rhexa square in the chest.
The shockwave launched Rhexa backward. She stumbled over the glassed sand. Her breasts bounced completely free of their tight metal cups as the brassiere’s clasp bent open under the force. They swung loose, nipples hard, fully exposed for every row in the stadium to see.
The Wind Muse pressed immediately. She unleashed a furious, unrelenting barrage. High thrust, then a sweeping cut aimed right at Rhexa’s exposed thighs. Rhexa blocked the first two blows, but her blade flared and died into dull grey steel. The fire guttered out.
She needed an anchor. She reached through the Kyric Seal stamped between her breasts, grasping for Lord Varos’s presence on the other end. She found a thin, wilting thread. Their connection lacked the deep bond her Aspect required. Her innate fire choked completely.
The Wind Muse slammed the blunt butt of her spear hard into Rhexa’s stomach.
Rhexa gasped. She absorbed the impact and felt the shock convert instantly into a hot rush of pure arousal straight between her legs. She squeezed her thighs together. She bent her knees and dug her boots into the sand to stay upright. The hit felt less like a blow and more like a rough hand grabbing her from the inside out.
She needed her Kyrios. Lord Varos sat somewhere up in the patron’s balcony, but his attention felt thin and scattered through the Seal, he was distant. He wasn’t watching the fight. He was counting what this loss would cost him. She could feel his distraction sitting cold and heavy in her chest where the Seal should have burned hot. Their Concord had been bleeding for months. Their contract felt hollow.
The Wind Muse stepped in close and spun the spear. A razor-thin blade of compressed air ripped straight through the torn straps hanging off Rhexa’s shoulders. The wind tore the brassiere clean off her body and flung the crumpled metal cups into the dirt.
The audience screamed. Thousands of people watched Rhexa stand stripped under the open sky, bare from the waist up and on the back foot.
Rhexa didn’t let her exhibition stop her. She stepped forward and swung. But without her Aspect feeding the steel, she swung a heavy useless chunk of iron. The Wind Muse blocked the slow strike with her shield, barely even shifting her feet, and shoved Rhexa backward.
Rhexa lost her footing. Another focused blast of air hit her directly between the legs. The crushing pressure snapped the metal clasps holding her plated bikini bottom together. The wind stripped the heavy armoured plate right off her hips; it hit the sand with a clunk.
She stood completely naked in the middle of the arena. Slick wetness trailed down the inside of her thighs. Every blow, every piece of torn armour, every second of degrading exposure fed the combat pleasure flooding her nervous system. She moaned loud enough for the front rows to hear.
The Wind Muse closed the distance. She thrust the tip of her spear into Rhexa’s right thigh. The pain gave way to overwhelming sexual ecstasy. She threw her head back and let out a wet, messy scream. Her grip failed. She dropped her sword into the sand.
The judge’s horn blew.
“Halt! Match stopped! Victory to House Calliros by official stoppage!”
The Wind Muse pulled her spear back and stepped away cleanly. Rhexa dropped to one knee. She pulsed with the distorted pleasure that kept Muses conscious through damage. She pressed her palm flat against the sand. Her whole body was weak. She couldn’t even look up at the balcony.
The herald’s voice boomed across the stadium.
“As declared by pre-match stakes, the defeated Muse will perform the concession rite as specified by House Calliros. Rhexa of House Varos... present yourself.”
The concession. She’d almost let herself forget. Lord Varos had wagered high to cover a debt, confident in a victory that never came. The terms had been specific. Publicly specific.
Rhexa forced herself to stand. She walked, naked, across the arena floor toward the Calliros balcony.
The opposing Kyrios descended the short stairway to the sand. A man in his forties, thick-necked, well-fed, wearing a deep blue cloak trimmed with silver thread. He smiled as Rhexa approached. He was already unlacing his robes.
“On your knees.”
Rhexa sank down. The sand was hot under her shins.
He pulled his cock free. Half-hard, already flushed with the excitement of watching his Muse tear the fight apart. He stepped forward until the tip pressed against her collarbone.
“Go on, then. Put those to work.”
Rhexa lifted her heavy breasts with both hands. She pressed them together around his shaft without a word. The crowd surged louder. She squeezed the soft, full weight of her tits around him and started to stroke, dragging them up and down in a slow, firm rhythm. His cock disappeared completely between the tight press of her cleavage.
She stared straight ahead at his belt buckle. She didn’t look up. She gave him nothing beyond the physical act demanded by the stakes. Her face stayed flat, controlled, even as her body still trembled with residual combat arousal that made every inch of her oversensitive.
“Harder.”
She tightened her grip and sped up. She spat down at his cock. The wet sound of him pumping was not the worst of it. It was his grunting. His fingers grasped her wild hair as his hips rolled upwards into her breasts.
She reached through the Seal one more time. She searched for Lord Varos. Some fragment of anger, of command, of acknowledgment that his Muse was on her knees being used in front of twenty thousand people because of his wager.
She found almost nothing. A faint, scattered haze. He was barely even watching. Whatever occupied his mind, it wasn’t her. It wasn’t the arena. It wasn’t the sight of his contracted Muse performing a public sex act as payment for his failed bet.
The Calliros Kyrios thrust his hips forward. He fucked the smooth channel between her breasts, picking up speed. Rhexa held herself steady. Her thick thighs held her steady.
“Fuck. Look at these things.” He reached down and took a handful of breast. “Best tits on the whole circuit, wasted on a dying house.”
The crowd laughed. Parts of it, anyway. Others just watched, hungry, leaning forward in their seats.
He came fast. He yanked her hair and pulled her face up just before he finished. The first thick rope of cum hit her across the bridge of her nose and right cheek. The second splattered over her lips and chin. He pumped the rest out onto her breasts, milking himself against her slick cleavage until her tits were streaked white.
He let go of her hair.
“Good girl. Tell your Kyrios he can have you back now.”
Rhexa stayed on her knees for a few seconds before walking away. Cum dripped off her body. It slid in thick lines down the curves of her breasts and collected in the hollow between them. She could taste salt on her lower lip. Twenty thousand people stared at her lewd state.
She stood up slowly. Her legs held. She turned and walked back across the arena floor toward the Varos tunnel without cleaning herself.
Lord Varos wasn’t waiting at the tunnel entrance. She saw his chair on the balcony, already empty.
She stopped just inside the shadow of the arch where the crowd couldn’t see. She leaned one shoulder against the rough stone wall, pressed her forehead against it, and closed her eyes. Her Seal felt dead.
That was the worst one yet.
Not the hardest fight. Not the most damaging. She’d taken worse hits, lost worse matches in her career. But she had never felt so completely alone in the middle of a bond. She’d knelt there with his seed on her face and reached for her Kyrios and touched nothing.
The absolute worst.
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~ Arthur Kord