Battlemage – The Trials

Bald Pussy

This is the end of the first part of Artesia’s story. I do have more Battlemage written and more planned.

WARNING: Unlike the earlier Battlemage stories (Dara, Kameel, Amara) there is no sex in this installment. So, with that said, I hope you read it anyhow and enjoy.

“What are you doing here?” Dara hissed after closing with Artesia.

Artesia flexed the fingers of her left hand while holding her sword in her right. “Same as you, proving I belong here.”

“He’s never taken four people before,” Dara said while moving her sword back and forth to test Artesia’s defenses. “We’ll have to take at least one of the others out to both get in.”

Artesia smiled.

Dara’s eyes widened. “You… you wouldn’t! Not after… I thought… I thought we had something?”

“We do,” Artesia assured her. “You are very special to me, Dara. Very.”

“Then…”

“I have a plan,” Artesia said.

Dara’s eyes narrowed. “You know what happens to plans, right?”

“I have a plan for that too,” Artesia said and lunged forward.

Dara arched her back, contorting around Artesia’s thrusting blade, and spun like a dancer to bat it away with her curved blade. As she spun she ducked low and swung her foot out, catching Artesia in the ankle.

Artesia’s leg didn’t budge. Her ankle stung from the kick, but the effect on Dara having her momentum stopped put her off balance and made her tumble to the side.

Dara didn’t live in the moment, she planned for the next one. She rolled and came up, missing a chop from Artesia’s sword and then she hopped back the other way, flipping over Artesia’s blade in mid-air.

Dara’s scimitar cut across the air even before her feet were fully supporting her light weight.

Artesia’s left hand lashed out and up, her fingers contorting as she breathed out the words to a spell that made a caused Dara’s sword to deflect up and away with a lash of purple light. Artesia jerked her hand back and kicked out, trying to plant her boot in Dara’s stomach.

Dara spun with the direction her scimitar was taking her and guided it around and up higher before bringing it down on Artesia’s outstretched shin. Her sword cleaved through it so cleanly Dara was stunned by the suddenness of her victory.

So stunned she registered Artesia twisting around and then slapping her in the back of the neck with the flat of her blade so hard it made her stagger forward a step and then fall to her hands and knees. She twisted her head to look over, expecting to find her lover hopping on one leg and bleeding profusely across the stones.

Artesia waved her left hand. “Picked up a new trick the other day,” she said. “I got the idea from watching someone use a glamour spell.”

Dara gawked at her for a moment and then bowed her head. “You beat me.”

“Get up, we’re not done yet,” Artesia said.

“What?”

“Kameel and Aamara,” Artesia said. “Aamara’s keeping him at a distance but he’ll figure out a way past soon enough.”

“I don’t…”

“You work for me now,” Artesia said. “Remember?”

“Remember? I never–“

“Yes you do,” Artesia said. “I proved I can protect you, that’s part of what you wanted. The other part was that I care for you… and protect your heart as well.”

Dara gasped and then a smile lifted her lips. “You’re right… and you did.”

“Now rise, My Lady, and fight for me.”

Dara nodded and scooped up her dropped scimitar before she stood up. She swung it back and forth and nodded, the grin still on her face.

Side by side they approached the other two still fighting. Kameel glanced over at Artesia and his face darkened. He looked away, but not before Aamara took advantage of his distraction and swung the heavy blade at the end of her pole arm at his head.

Kameel leaned out of way, slipping under the blow, and then grunted as she jerked the weapon around put the butt end into his side and back. He staggered away, putting more distance away from her.

“Go after him,” Artesia told Dara.

Dara’s grin turned wicked as she pounced after the bruised lord.

Aamara turned on Artesia and made a half-heart lunge with her halberd. The attack wasn’t meant to harm, just to warn.

Artesia batted it aside with her sword and settled in. “He would have got inside your reach soon,” she said.

Aamara ignored her observation. “Think you know me because you scouted me the other night?”

“No,” Artesia admitted. “That was my way of meeting you. I really want to get to know you though.”

Aamara sneered at her. “You arranged it all then? The bar fight and everything?”

“No,” Artesia said while hopping to the side to avoid another thrust. “I went there to meet you, yes, but the brawl was not my idea.”

“You’re good at improvising,” Aamara said and swept her polearm low, forcing Artesia to leap to clear it.

Artesia leapt forward instead of up or back, bringing her sword into range. A shimmer of magical defenses slowed üçyol escort her counter strike enough for Aamara to not only ignore it when it struck the rivet studded thick leather of her pauldron. Aamara used the same tactic she’d used on Kameel, flipping her polearm about and striking Artesia in the side with the wooden haft of her weapon.

Artesia winced at the bruise she’d have on her ribs and reached for the staff of Aamara’s weapon out of instinct.

Aamara yanked it out of reach too quickly and stepped back, restoring the optimal distance between them for her weapon. “If you’re good at improvising,” Aamara said while she let go of her halberd with one hand and began to trace a quick sigil in the air, “try this!”

Artesia recognized quickly spat words as magical but didn’t know what they meant. Flames erupted from Artesia’s boots and raced up her legs, enveloping her in less than a second. She barely had time to react to the threat and then noticed there was no actual heat to them. They were just flames that wreathed her body. She felt a slight tingle in her skin from the magic interacting with her own.

Artesia grinned and Aamara’s eyes widened.

“I can do something like that too,” Artesia said. “The difference is, mine hurt. I didn’t want to hurt you.”

Aamara’s eyes narrowed and she snarled. She grabbed her weapon in both hands and tensed to attack.

Black flames burst from Artesia’s free hand as the spear tip of Aamara’s halberd sped toward her. Artesia swatted the weapon to the side with her sword and took a step closer. She realized her mistake as Aamara pulled the polearm back from her left to the right and jammed the beak that served as a counterweight to the axe blade into Artesia’s hip.

Artesia’s mix of chain and leather spared her from a penetrating wound but the force of the trauma made her grunt in pain. The black flames in her hand doused the red and yellow ones immolating her body and then they raced up Aamara’s halberd from where Artesia grabbed the shaft just behind its head.

Aamara’s eyes widened but she couldn’t react fast enough. The infernal flames leapt onto her hands and raced up her arms. She gasped and let out a strangled cry before the pain made her clench her teeth together in agony.

Artesia poured more and more of the flames up the length of the weapon and into Aamara, returning the favor of immolating her. What Artesia knew and Aamara did not was that the infernal flames did no physical damage. Granted, the pain was real enough while they lasted and the damage to her psyche might linger, but her body wouldn’t be harmed.

Aamara fought on, clinging to her weapon with a grim resolve that impressed Artesia even as it made her take pity on the woman. The beast inside of her rumbled its displeasure at what it considered Artesia’s show of weakness.

“Yield,” Artesia demanded.

“N–never!” Aamara said.

Artesia scowled. “This is only a taste of what I can give you.”

Aamara struggled against the wracking agony and spat out, “Pain? Give in or suffer?”

“Pain is for my enemies,” Artesia said. “For my chosen, I prefer pleasure.”

“Pleas–what?”

Artesia dispatched the flames in an instant. Aamara staggered, the relief almost more shocking and painful than the continued torture had been. In that moment Artesia yanked the halberd free of her grasp and tossed it to the side. She stepped forward and reached out, touching Aamara where her shoulder met her neck.

Through that contact let the tendrils of her demonic energy flow. She slipped through the woman’s defenses and caused Aamara to gasp and then groan as her body softened and betrayed her. She struggled, stiffening for a heartbeat, and then relaxed and staggered forward a tiny step, coming closer to Artesia. Her mouth opened and then a fresh surge of energy from Artesia made her eyes roll up and her eyelids flutter. She swayed on her legs, her willpower under siege.

“I can help you,” Artesia said. “But I can’t do it for nothing. There is a price. Join me, Aamara, and I will get you what you desire…and more.”

“More?”

“What you’re missing in your life. Family, friends, something to fight for, and someone who will fight for you,” Artesia said.

Aamara trembled and panted. She bit her lip hard enough to draw blood and then opened her eyes and stared at Artesia.

“The choice must be yours,” Artesia said and let go of her. She took a step back and watched. She was ready to react if Aamara tried anything.

Aamara blinked as the powerful feelings stopped building in her. They didn’t disappear, but without reinforcement the reality of her situation began to reassert itself. She looked around, spotting Dara and Kameel sparring in what almost looked like a choreographed performance. Both bled from a number of minor wounds. Murad was watching, his eyes flitting back and forth between combatants. The lines on his forehead deepened as he took ulus escort note of the lack of action between Aamara and Artesia.

“Who are you?” Aamara asked as she returned her gaze to Artesia “Or should I ask, what are you?”

Artesia smiled. “I’m Artesia, and nothing would make me happier than to be your Mistress.”

Aamara gasped.

“Make me happy, Aamara. Give me what I need to help you and make us both better and stronger for it.”

Aamara stared at her, swallowed, and then bowed her head and dropped to her knees.

Artesia fought the urge to do a victory pump with her fist. She smiled and stepped a half step forward to reach out and place her hand on Aamara’s cheek. She curled her fingers under the woman’s chin and picked it up, guiding her to look up at her. All the while she let her magic soak back into Aamara and pour fuel directly into the fire in her belly.

Aamara tried to gasp but couldn’t find the air to breathe. Her eyes rolled back again as her tightly wound body tightened even further and then released. Only Artesia’s touch kept her from tumbling to the ground.

Artesia smiled and said, “That’s a taste, my beautiful Aamara. Later, we’ll make it official.”

Aamara sucked in heavy breaths and only managed a nod in return.

Artesia turned and walked towards Dara and Kameel. She smiled at Dara and got a smile in return, which served to infuriate Kameel. He redoubled his attacks, leaving himself open for a quick riposte that shredded the lace on his inside of the thigh of his pants.

“Thank you, Dara,” Artesia said.

“But he’s not defeated yet!” Dara protested.

Artesia moved behind Dara to make sure Kameel couldn’t ignore her. “He is,” she said. “Kameel, that’s enough. Yield.”

His eyes narrowed. “Never! I–“

“Dara is mine,” Artesia said. “She belongs to me. Continue to strike at her and you strike at me.”

His saber wavered and lowered a few inches.

“Kneel, Kameel,” she said. “Yield to me.”

He nodded. “I… of course, Mistress. I just… the training. To be a battle mage… I… I’ve worked so hard for it.”

“Kneel!” Artesia spat, the demon in her adding its force to her voice.

He dropped to his knees and bowed his head.

Aamara walked up from the side. She’d already replaced her halberd on the rack she’d taken it from. She moved and stood just behind Artesia and a step to the side.

Artesia nodded. “Good boy, Kameel,” she said. “You may rise and take your place behind me.”

He took a few deep breaths and rose. Seeing Aamara without a weapon he stepped over quickly to replace his and then returned to stand beside Aamara, except on the opposite side of Artesia.

Dara turned while this was happening and looked at Artesia. She found even more respect for the woman than she’d already had and had to fight to keep from giving her a hug, a kiss, and a whispered desire for more. She restrained herself and hurried over to put her scimitar back before jogging back to stand with the other two.

Murad stroked his chin with his fingers. “Artesia, you benefactor has once again found a way to be both distracting and intriguing.”

“If I bring respect to My Lord I am pleased,” Artesia responded.

The others looked at Artesia with open curiosity.

“Interested indeed,” Murad mused. He nodded. “Very well, there are salves for your wounds in the chest behind me. Return tomorrow and bring only yourselves and, should you have one, your book of spells. If you have something you dare not leave behind, you may bring it but it will be secured within vault. Everything you require will be provided.”

“All of us, Master Murad?” Dara asked.

“Until you prove to me that you do not deserve my time, yes.”

Dara bowed her head and fought to keep her smile at a minimum.

With the conditions of Dara’s contract fully satisfied Artesia could feel the young woman’s excitement and joy. Dara wanted to celebrate, and Artesia had a hunch she knew what Dara had in mind. It was more than a little tempting.

“Well,” Murad snapped when no one moved. “heal yourselves and be off. I need to make sure I have everything prepared for a class of four.”

“Tend to your wounds,” Artesia told her new thralls.

Dara and Kameel hurried forward and began applying the magical creams to their cuts and bruises. When they returned the cuts in their clothing and armor revealed freshly mended skin, if a bit still pink in some areas.

“Mistress, I brought you this,” Dara said while holding up a small jar still filled with the magical balm. “For your ankle.”

“I could use it in a few other places too,” Artesia admitted. “We can take it with us.”

Dara sucked in a breath and her eyes twinkled. “Yes, Mistress.”

“Let’s go and tend to our affairs,” Artesia said to them all. “And be sure to return in the morning.”

They fell in around her but let her lead the way. Aamara made her way up to Artesia’s ümraniye escort side and cleared her throat. “So, um, how does this work?”

Artesia turned and smiled at her. “I don’t have the power to reshape you the way you want, but I know someone who does: My Lord, John. I will speak to him and find out what I have to do so you can have it.”

Aamara hesitated and the nodded. “I… thank you, um, Mistress.”

Artesia chuckled. “It will get easier.”

“Will it? How? I’ll just get used to it?”

“No, we’ll bond and have a contract between us. A magical contract binding our souls.”

“Our souls?” Aamara breathed.

“For a year,” Artesia reassured her. “Only a year. After that… if we both want to keep it going then we renew it.”

“Oh… okay,” she agreed. “How do we do this? Do you have it at your place or…”

“I fuck you.”

Aamara stumbled and caught herself. “Excuse me?”

“I. Fuck. You.”

Aamara stared at her. “But you’re…”

“You will peak and then I will peak. That will open your soul to me and allow my magic to enter you. I will take a little of you and you will get a little of me. We agree to the terms and then the contract is made.”

Aamara had to jerk her eyes away from Artesia to keep from running into a wall on their way through Master Murad’s estate. Her thoughts remained entirely focused on her new Mistress. “I… I know there are women that love other women but I didn’t… is it the same?”

“Have you ever been with a man?”

Aamara’s skin was too dark to show a blush but the way she quickly glanced away was all the tell Artesia needed.

“I see. Do you prefer men?” Artesia followed up.

Aamara’s mouth opened and then closed. “I think so?” she said. “I… I always picture myself with a strong man… one that can best me but still care for me. One who will let me be me, yet wants that I want. One that… Saints, why am I sharing this with you?”

Artesia chuckled. “First, you are in for a pleasant surprise, I think. Second, and this is for all of you. There will be no secrets between us. We will always respect and care for one another. I expect–no, I demand–no less than that. Is it understood?”

“N–no secrets, Mistress?” Kameel asked.

“None,” she repeated. “These are your sisters now, Kameel. No matter what station or standing you had before, you are now their equals.”

“Yes, Mistress,” he said in an almost whimper.

“Don’t worry,” she reassured him. “The next time I pleasure you they will get to watch. And nobody will be touching your cock. The only pleasure you get will be from me.”

He sucked in a breath and walked awkwardly for the next several steps.

“Wait, I don’t… if nobody…,” Aamara admitted. “I mean, I’m not interested in him, it’s just… I’m confused.”

Artesia grinned. “You’ll find out later, my dear. Then it will all make sense.”

Aamara hesitated and then shrugged. “All right, I can wait. It’s not like I care about his pleasure.”

Dara was practically bouncing as she walked. She brushed her hand against Artesia’s as they walked out the main foyer and onto the sunny street. She turned and looked at her Mistress with a gleam in her eye.

Artesia almost laughed. Dara reminded her of Jennaca. The way Jennaca had looked at Lord John back when things were new and fresh and… and nobody knew that Lord John had slept with Jennaca’s mother a lifetime ago. The though sobered Artesia up, but only long enough for her to remind herself that Dara knew who her parents were. That and there was no possible way she could have played a part in that.

“Yes, Dara, I agree. It is time we celebrate. Kameel has the biggest bed, and it’s not like he’ll be needed it anyhow.”

Kameel moaned softly.

“Aamara first though, so she can truly be one of the girls.”

Kameel blushed again and this time had to try and pretend he was straightening his pants instead of adjusting himself.

“I am so confused,” Aamara muttered.

“Let’s go clear that up,” Artesia said. “Tomorrow we work. Today… today we celebrate. To the sisterhood!

“To the sisterhood!” Dara cheered.

“Sisterhood,” Aamara agreed next.

Dara and Artesia turned to Kameel, expectant and waiting.

“I thought we were supposed to respect each other and want what is best?” Aamara asked. “How is humiliating Lord Kameel best for him?”

“He secretly– or not-so-secretly now–loves being dominated by me, don’t you Kameel?”

His breath had a hitch in it before he managed enough air to admit, “Yes, Mistress… To the sisterhood!”

Artesia grinned. Forcing him to admit it to the others was the final hidden condition in his contract. She felt the mix of humiliation, exhilaration, and raw lust pouring through her bond to Kameel. She reveled in it and wondered how life could get any better.

Oh wait, there was Aamara. Bonding with her would make things better.

All those years of suffering in her lonely pits of sadness and anger were suddenly worth it. She never had to be alone again, not unless she wanted it. Artesia’s grin widened. Meeting John had been the best thing to happen to her. Until, perhaps, today.

And today had only just begun…

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