Taken by Lesbian Warlord: The Helga Chronicles - Sex Stories

Taken by Lesbian Warlord: The Helga Chronicles

Taken By Lesbian Warlord

Chapter 1

Iona sat in the corner of the felt tent, trying to be as quiet and inconspicuous as possible. The men of the steppe, clad in their supple leathers and luxurious furs, had sternly and forcefully directed her to stay sat, and stay silent. She'd heard stories about what would befall her she was ever captured by steppe tribe, and what horrors to expect. Her head still felt light from the shock. She might only be eighteen, but she was a priestess; a junior priestess, but a priestess of the goddess of chastity and purity, Astraea. Being captured by the steppe people was a disaster. I've heard what they do to the men and women captured. So far, she had just been pushed around and manhandled from one tent to another, for which she was grateful. But she had already seen women and men ravished. Out in the open, for all to see! The sight had been more than Iona could handle.

This tent felt different from the others, however. For one thing, it was much larger, massive; large enough to hold over a hundred people. It was easily as impressive as the finery she had been used to in her temple, if not more so. The finest silk cushions and blankets were casually strewn around, soft and luxurious pelts of exotic animals she couldn't identify were everywhere. Even the wooden furniture looked expensive, and had been polished with beeswax until it shone. Iona had no doubt that they had gotten everything here from raids and slaughter, but it still conveyed a sense of grandeur.

She tried to avoid being noticed by any of the men in the tent. She kept her eyes looking down, only glancing at them from the corner of her eye. It was impossible to ignore them, towering over her as they did even whilst lounging on their cushions. The smell of sweat, horse and leather engulfed her. No matter what else was here, it could not hold her full attention for long, however. That returned inevitably to the woman reclining opposite her.

The chieftain towered over the men as they towered over Iona; she was at least a head taller than the biggest man here. Clad in the same furs and leathers as the rest, she had a slender musculature that was both clearly strong and undoubtedly feminine. The sword that she had by her side was easily the largest that Iona had seen, larger than Iona herself.

It was with that sword in hand that Iona had first seen the chieftain appear, smashing down the doors to her temple. It was with that sword that she had carved her way through the temple guards, slashing and dancing through them like they were scarecrows. Most times she had not even met the guards’ spears and swords before the blade sliced through them.The ferocity and grace that Iona had seen from the dark-haired woman had been awe-inspiring. Even now, it was hard for Iona not to stare at her. She contented herself with surreptitious glances.

The chieftain herself looked over the men with a stern gaze that bordered on anger, even as she lounged. ...