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“Is that strange for man-thing?” she asked. Rather than answer, he returned his paw to her smaller pair of teats, beginning to rub and cup it. There was barely any fat on her secondary breasts, but Roderick’s attentions were eager, almost rough, his fingers circling her nipple until it hardened. He bent over to bring it into range of his mouth, running his tongue across it, back and forth until her moans turned to screams of mounting ecstasy.
She had forgotten how sensitive her chest was, and when she saw Roderick make for her unattended nipple, she felt both dread and excitement at the prospect. He latched on like a pup, continuing to pump his hips into her, Skyseeker’s own rising climax creeping up on her. Her hips were on autopilot, her insides swirling as she tilted and rolled, taking hard pawfuls of the horse’s mane as all the tension in her body concentrated in her loins.
“Ah! Man-thing! Skaven’s going to…” She tried to stave off the building ache, but it was fruitless, her surge coming in faster than even her quick mind could register. Her thighs flexed around him, drawing Roderick’s member as deep inside as it could, her mouth opening in a wail as she felt her walls contract and clench, her emission releasing along with a spray of her breeder-musk. She could feel her fem-cum gushing out, squeezed between her tight walls and his thick member, leaking out to wet her thighs and crotch. Shudders of excitement rippled down her spine, her very being seeming to vibrate, every knot and pang of tension gently easing away in the face of bliss.
Her contracting vent left Roderick dazed, and he joined her after a few more moments, the powerful pause that came after his final thrust making all the soft parts of her body ripple. He erupted inside her, his tip pressed against the furthest reaches of her tunnel, and she could feel it flood its way inside her breeding chamber. It was boiling hot, as though lava had been poured inside her stomach, and although it hurt a little the lurid image of his pups taking root in her stomach overrode any sense of pain she might be feeling.
He throbbed again, his seed quickly filling her to capacity, Roderick doubling over to rest his cheek on hers. He grunted as her walls squeezed out another pang, more of his fluids seeping out to make a mess between their legs. She looped her tail across his butt, keeping him lodged inside her as the two succumbed to afterglow.
She nuzzled at his face, her whiskers drinking in his taste and smell, Roderick cupping her chin with a tender paw. Her heart fluttered as he delivered a powerful kiss, his tongue shoving its way inside her throat, Skyseeker chuckling into his mouth. With his two organs inside her she felt ravaged, the satisfaction of being bred sending pleasant aftershocks down her limbs.
Like waking from a nap, she slowly came to, peering up at Roderick with lidded eyes. “You gave me many-many little Skaven,” she cooed, reaching down to pat her belly. She could feel his seed splashing when she moved, and though it might be her imagination, there was a little bump in her belly that hadn’t been there before.
“I told you before, our joining can’t bear fruit,” he replied.
“Speaking of fruit! Rick-Rod bring any snacks? Skaven gets hungry after a good breeding.”
“You’re always hungry,” he corrected. She moaned as he tried to slide out of her, Skyseeker flexing her core on purpose, the way the bumps and ridges of his shaft scraped her sensitive walls sending shivers through her. He was glistening with their shared fluids, Skyseeker surprising even herself as she eyed its size. Truly her athleticism knew no bounds.
“By Sigmar,” he muttered, leaning back to catch his breath.
“Yes-Yes, call out to your Gods! HEAR THAT, MAR-SIG?! Skaven’s a better breeder than that floozy orc broad every will!”
“Shhh!” Roderick hissed, but his smirk betrayed his amusement. “You shouldn’t tempt the powers that be, lass.”
“AND I HOPE YOU”RE WATCHING TOO, HORNED RAT! TELL THE OBSEQUIOUS LORD GNAWDWELL I’LL BREED A HUNDRED BAJILLION MAN-THINGS BEFORE I BECOME HIS CONSORT!”
He reached for one of his saddlebags, shaking his head in exasperation. His bedroll was the only thing he had on hand to wipe himself down, Skyseeker giggling when he turned to her next, rubbing the linen down her crotch to clean her fur as best he could. His goo wouldn’t come out of her fur completely without a wash, but perhaps she could ‘accidently’ forgot to clean herself the next time she walked past Mazkha. Her reaction would be priceless.
“We should be heading back soon,” Roderick said, pulling his waistband back above his hips. She intercepted him, looping her arms across his broad chest, the human taking her into his arms. There was nothing quite like being held by him, a feeling of permeating warmth that could not be replicated in any other way.
“Not before you hold me,” she insisted, nestling into his chest. “You have a lot of spooning tax to make up for, Rick-Rod. Time to pay up.”
“I suppose I can live with that compromise,” he said, smirking down at her.
Bundled in his arms, it was a state she wished would never end. Yet the cool air was starting to make her shiver, even with her human to shield her, and the moon was progressing across the sky, and they had to set off eventually. Roderick handed her her loincloth, which had dropped from her leg during their lovemaking, then used the reigns one-handed to set the horse back the way they’d come.
“Surprised that horse didn’t buck us during breeding,” Skyseeker commented. Apart from a few flicks of its ears, it hadn’t minded at all being their bed.
“I told you, these Brettonian horses don’t spook easily,” Roderick said. “A skilled rider can use his knees to keep one controlled even in the middle of a battlefield.”
“Yeah, hehe, you’re a ‘skilled rider’ alright-right,” she laughed, her joke so perfectly constructed that even Roderick couldn’t keep a straight face. “Maybe we do some more riding when we get back to your room-room.”
“We’d wake the whole tavern if we did.”
“AND?!”
“I suppose I can’t argue with that logic,” he chuckled. He held her closer, jostling in the saddle as the horse brought them across the shoreline, Skyseeker settling back into her Roderick-seat as she gazed out at the currents.
-xXx-
Her ratkin had not protested when she told them they would all be gathering out in the camp that morning, but this didn’t mean they were amiable to what she had in store for them. The noises of the camp were loud and constant, and the foot traffic was dense with orcs and humans, who were both near twice the height of any of her slaves, and even just getting away from the tavern had resulted in one of them almost being crushed beneath the foot of a lumbering orc who hadn’t paid attention to where he was going.
A few minutes of scurrying later brought her slaves to a vacant space deep in the midst of the tents, the clearing shaped like a giant box with a post fence surrounding it. There were three men standing in the cleared patch, and by their feet rested a small chest. She recognised one of them as Otto, but the other two were strangers, men-at-arms who looked like they’d seen a fight or two.
Her slaves were on familiar terms with Otto, but at the sight of the strangers she could tell they were suspicious, nervous. It took all her wily charms and cunning charisma to keep them calm. These two strangers were picked personally by Roderick, and he’d assured her they were willing to work alongside her Skaven.
She ordered the slaves to line up in a couple disorganised rows, the man-things stepping forward to inspect them. Otto stepped forward to address them first. “Alright, listen up Skaven. These two gentleman are Lando and Elric, they’ve been with Captain Kessel’s crew going on two years now. Before that, they were part of the Imperial Army for a time. They’re here to shape you all into a fighting force. We have some blunt weapons in that trunk over there. Grab a piece, and we’ll get straight into it.”
There had been a few looted weapons from the Skaven they’d encountered on the other side of the Grey Mountains, but most of the arms were of human origin, the steel weapons glinting in the light as the slaves raised them up in untrained paws. Lando and Eric split the group of slaves down the middle, each taking lead of their respective group while Otto swapped his attention between them.
They began with a few drills, where the Skaven were supposed to copy the stance of their trainer. A basic task, but it quickly became apparent that her slaves did not have the mental capacity to keep up. They carried their weapons like they were broomsticks, and there were several instances of friendly fire when some of them batted at the air and accidently hit the slave beside them, Skyseeker having to break up a few fights over the course of the first couple minutes.
To say they were ill-prepared would be an understatement, but Skyseeker was not surprised. Being a gladiator among warriors, she had no need to develop skills beyond her current mastery, but her slaves had no such advantage. She supervised where she could, her presence helping to keep the Skaven in line. It was only Kretch who possessed a modicum of technique, one of the few who knew how to handle a blade and use it at the same time.
They had only been going at it for an hour, but they were already drawing a crowd of onlookers, orcs and humans alike stopping to watch. The former weren’t so polite as the latter, the giant green freaks openly laughing whenever her slaves made a misstep or dropped their weapons. It was a good thing her slaves were too occupied to notice, or perhaps they were too mentally deficient to realise they were being openly mocked. Either way, she was glad for them.
“One would be better off training fish to walk,” she heard someone say. She jerked her head to the left, seeing a small group of humans idling by the fence, five of them in all, each wearing gleaming armour. They were by no means the only ones judging her slaves, but they were the closest, and while she was by no means a fan of Skaven herself, these were her Skaven, and someone had to stand up for them.
“Hey, you-you!” she shouted. “Man-thing with the bad haircut! Yes, you! You stay right there-there!” She crossed the eight meters separating her from the group in an instant, leaping up onto the post so she could look at them at eye-level. She’d found it easier to interact with humans when she didn’t have to bend her neck.
“And why aren’t you in there, flailing your arms about with the rest of the rodents?” the heckler chuckled, his accent so odd it took her a moment to register his words.
She opened her mouth to retaliate, but stopped when she felt a strange sense of familiarity. “Does Skaven know you, man-thing?” she asked him, tilting her head. “You look… familiarity. Who are you? WAIT! DON’T SAY IT! You’re Kessel-mans little servant, one of his inner council, yes-yes?”
“I only serve the Lady,” the man replied. “You were at the moot. As was I. We did not have the chance to speak, Skyseeker.”
“Oooooh,” she said, dragging the word into several syllables of remembrance. “You’re Edward, the Breton-thing! That was going to be my second guess.”
“Edouart,” he replied.
“That’s what I said! Edward!”
He sighed, leading her to believe one of them was being foolish, and she’d bet her warp tokens on it not being her.
“So, this is your retinue?” Edouart said, waving a gauntlet over the training grounds. “I must confess, I have never seen a live Skaven before today. Your kind are all but eradicated in our great country, driven off by my ancestors long ago. From the stories I was told, I expected you to be a little more… substantial.”
“Well, your ancestors are stupid AND wrong,” she chided. “You think your country-place is Skaven-free? Ha! My former Clan is already setting up shops all over it, and not the good kind where you barter-deal.”
“This is impossible,” Edouart scoffed. “Our borders are ironclad, no enemy apart from the Vampire Counts have gotten through, and I doubt you and they would get along on our lands.”
“That’s cause Skaven don’t use laNDs, ignorant fool-fool! Rats burrow tunnel networks to the far-places, make new under-empires right below your whiskers. Where you think I got all these slaves from, thin air?”
“He did tell me you were the only Skaven on that wolfship,” Edouart conceded. “You’re saying you picked these rodents up on our side of the mountains?”
“Clan Mors has huge under burrow over there,” she said. “Right under man-thing village, with hangars, forges, slaves and… more hangars with more things! I got these skavenslaves to stage riot and help me flee-run. Not to diminish Otto and other man-things role in it,” she added. “But Skaven did most of the heavy lifting.”
“That explains their poor skill and technique,” Edouart said, looking over at the slaves with a sneer. “Rescuing them was chivalrous, but to send this lot into battle is foolhardy. The world of war is no place for peasants and labourers.”