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Korlin's Reminiscence

Korlin looked up from the book she'd been reading as the door opened, and then quickly closed it and put it down on the nearby side-table with the title downwards. She had no enchantments on her door barring entry - but the only person who every opened it without at least knocking first was her dearly beloved Sayn... and knowing her, seeing what Korlin had been reading tonight would only serve to distract her from whatever trouble had brought her there in the first place. Sayn remained rather uncomfortable with the reverence and outright worship that large parts of the populace treated her with, so if she saw Korlin with a book of ecclesiastical poetry dedicated to her own, divine personage, it would probably annoy her - she'd picked it up mostly on a lark, but some of the stanzas were _very_well put-together, she'd found.

It was funny how things tended to randomly become codified as tradition or just 'the way things are done', without anyone taking any deliberate step to make it so, let alone putting it into words. This thought occurred to her, not for the first time, as she rose to give Sayn a hug and a kiss - but nothing else - and then returned to her chair by the fire while he guest took the one next to it. When the two of them got together for sex, be it violent, passionate rutting or sweet, tender lovemaking, it was always in Sayn's chambers, on the huge, Empress-sized bed or the deep, lush carpeting before it. When Sayn came to _her_chambers, however, it was to talk - either about the regular business of running the empire, or about something personal that troubled her. Tonight was no different.

"Tired, my love?" She asked lightly as Sayn flopped inelegantly in the chair. She got a lopsided grin for her troubles. "What gave it away? The theatrical sigh, or the way I landed in this sinfully-soft chair like a sack of potatoes?" Of course, she could only return the grin, and reply in the same lighthearted tone. "Actually, I tore this truth from the very depths of your soul through the strange and fearsome magics of the Kirin... though, admittedly, your slouch _may_have figured into my calculations as well." They went on like this for a bit, exchanging jokes and laughs, frequently touching one another in light caresses.

Eventually, however, Korlin rose from her seat and collected a bottle of wine and two glasses from the drinks-cupboard in the corner - a light, fruity wine, made for savoring and not for getting drunk on, just the way she liked it. Once the drinks had been poured, she finally raised an eyebrow at her beloved. "So, just what is it that has got you so tired today? Because I know it isn't matters of state..." Sayn, of course, immediately stuck out her tongue, prompting a quick eyeroll from Korlin and a muttered "So ladylike..." - but really, it was all just a game. Both she and Cybra regularly needled Sayn for her lack of involvement in governance, without really having any desire for her to try and take more of it upon herself.

The rest of the Consorts were much the same - dealing with everything they possibly could on their own, and sending only the most severe problems up the chain. For most of them, though, it seemed to be due to a sort of reverence - a sense that most of the issues simply weren't worthy of the attention of a demigoddess like Sayn, or perhaps a feeling that the miracles she'd repeatedly been called upon to work meant that she'd 'earned' the right to ignore anything below that level. Perhaps there was some truth to one or both of those ideas - but for Cybra and Korlin, it was much simpler. They loved her, and they both knew that she simply didn't like exercising her authority. She tended to be weighed down by the responsibility that came with it, worrying if she'd made the right choice, anxious that any minor failing on her part might somehow cause her entire empire to spontaneously collapse. So as much as possible, they sought to ensure that she didn't need to make such decisions. Indeed, if she was happy to simply live a life of luxury and earthly pleasures here in the Seraglio, they were more than happy to let her - to a point, anyway.

Once this perquisite back-and-forth had been taken care of, though, Sayn finally spilled her troubles. "It's just this whole thing with Rubicundus..." she complained, resting the back of a hand against her forehead. "I just had another lengthy... 'session' with him, and I'm planning a few big productions down the line. I do love that oddball dragon and no mistake, but having to always play that role for him - acting so cold and mean - it wears on me, y'know?" Korlin nodded in understanding, rubbing her beloved's shoulder. "I understand... and certainly, I'm happy that acting so ruthlessly imperious doesn't come natural to you!" Leaning back in her chair, she pondered for a moment, then smiled. "I know it's not practical right now, but later you might want to ask Orichaniel for some pointers. He is quite the flexible fellow, particularly in bed - adept at playing whatever role will best please his partner, and switching smoothly between several personas on the fly without any noticeable strain on his part."

Sayn nodded thoughtfully. It wasn't an immediate solution, but it was worth considering the long term. Rubicundus was there to stay, after all, and it didn't seem likely that his tastes would change in any significant way anytime soon. "Well, maybe I could get some more general lessons out of him right away..." she then mused. "After all, it's not like putting on a different persona is something I only do in order to cater to Rubicundus' perversions. Whenever I have to deal with the Senate, I have to act suitably noble - which is to say arrogant - and my personal, self-appointed church obviously expects me to act with appropriate levels of divine gracefulness..." Korlin could only nod at this. Indeed, her past experience dealing with such situations was probably a big part of why Sayn had managed to slip into character as the dragon's dominatrix so easily.

Then, though, Sayn sighed and glanced wistfully over at her. "You're lucky, Korlin. Everybody loves you just the way you are. Well, everyone who matters, anyway. And even the nobles and politicians and whatnot who don't, don't expect you to be anything you're not. Beautiful, graceful, merciful and kind - everyone knows what to expect of a Kirin." This, however, made Korlin lift a delicate eyebrow, her smile taking on a suddenly darker cast. "Don't be so sure of that..." she commented, with a sigh of her own, as various memories returned to her, all unbidden.

And now Sayn was looking at her with concern in her eyes, of course. She quickly adjusted her smile into a more reassuring one, then nodded. "Tell you what... there's a story I've been meaning to recount to you. Maybe it'll help you with the play-acting you're having to do for Rubicundus these days, too." "Ooh, story-time! Neat!" Sayn replied immediately, clapping her hands together in a display of enthusiasm that wasn't _entirely_faked. Korlin grinned at her, then shifted herself to get a bit more comfortable in her chair and took another slow mouthful of her wine.

"Mmm. You know I cannot lie... and you also know that I sometimes get around this by simply... leaving stuff out, or refraining from correcting people's misconceptions or wrongful assumptions." she started, prompting a slow nod from Sayn. On occasion, she'd found herself skirting the truth in this fashion, even when dealing with the woman she loved... and been more grateful than she could fully express that when Sayn had noticed these incidents, she'd invariably elected to ignore them rather than call her out on them.

"Well, a while back, you said something that made it clear that you harbored such an assumption about me... and I elected not to correct it then and there, mostly because it would have ruined the very nice atmosphere. I suppose it also does contain a somewhat sore subject - an insecurity of sorts that you've previously been dogged by - but it is one I know you're quite capable of handling these days." Certainly, even now, the atmosphere of banter and lighthearted joking they'd established earlier was leeching out of the room, leaving Sayn's lovely face to take on a more grave expression as she obviously tried to remember what incident Korlin might be talking about.

"It was after our visit to Xangri-Du..." she clarified, causing Sayn's face to brighten in recollection of the tender moment and deeply emotional conversation they'd shared on a lonely mountain-plateau, as they rested beneath the stars... only to then darken again as she ran through the rather limited number of possible 'assumptions' she might have demonstrated at the time. "...you said that you weren't going to assume that I'd fallen for you just because you were the first person I'd met who didn't look like family to me. And I suppose it's natural enough to assume that this would be the case, since I've never talked_about my previous visit to the world of man... but indeed, when I went with Cybra to see you and apply for the position of your Consort, it _wasn't the first time I had left the hallowed peaks of Xangri-Du."

Sayn nodded, still silent, letting her tell the story as she wished - but Korlin could tell from her face that she was already guessing the direction she was going in. Sighing quietly, she flashed her a wistful smile. "So... you already know that I have lived for more than seven centuries already. In fact, I am 731 years old at this time. The first couple of centuries of that, I spent in Xangri-Du, learning from my peers, enjoying the perfect peace... and, yes, having lots of increasingly-kinky sex with fellow Kirin who might as well have been my brothers and sisters, as you know." Serious though the story was going to be, Korlin still couldn't help but tease Sayn when the opportunity offered itself - and this one was too good to pass up, considering the still-recent events of Aishee's birthday-party.

Her beloved took the ribbing with a good-natured eye-roll, but clearly wasn't going to be distracted. "Indeed. And when you finally got tired of fucking your family..?" Korlin laughed, and then shook her head as she once again took on a more serious mien. "Well... you have been studying, I know. So tell me - what was happening on this continent some five hundred years ago?" Sayn's eyes narrowed for a moment as her mind worked - a mind that Korlin knew was far more brilliant than she gave herself credit for. Lots of things had been happening five centuries ago, especially with such a vague time-period... but when narrowed to things that might be relevant to her own studies, and correlated with her earlier conclusions... her eyes finally widened in realization. "Kranach the Conqueror! He... that was you?!"

Smiling slightly, Korlin nodded and cast her thoughts back to those days, recalling more details than she really liked as she began to tell the story from the start.

She'd known, from early on, what she wanted to do with her theoretically-endless life. She didn't want to just linger in the eternal springtime of Xangri-Du, debating and philosophizing about ideal societies or developing esoteric magic that was completely divorced from any real utility. She wanted to make the world better than it was. Beyond the kekkai_that kept Xangri-Du safe and pleasant waited a world where life, all too often, was nasty, brutish and _short - but that was all the more reason to venture out there and try to_improve_ it, at least in her book. She'd learned early on that her previous incarnation had harbored similar desires - not that this was a surprise. Death had no place in Xangri-Du. For her birth to become possible, her predecessor must have ventured into the far more dangerous world that existed outside of it - and eventually met her end there.

It was only when she rather_insistently_ expressed her intentions to follow suit that the full details were revealed to her - almost certainly in the hopes of dissuading her. There had been a certain prevalent feeling, at the time, that attempting to genuinely improve the world of the humans was futile. With a great deal of time and effort, individual humans_could_ be shown the righteous path, certainly - they could be taught the value of mercy and generosity, and be turned from the pursuit of blind ambition and rampant greed. But humanity as a _whole_would continue as it always had, and whatever individuals dared stand against the tide, with or without a Kirin by their side, would only be swallowed up or swept under.

So it had been with her prior incarnation. She had served as the Voice of Compassion for Meryan the Great, a rather unusual Thenarian Warlord who had stepped away from his tribes' usual practice of raiding and pillaging to instead conquer and seize, establishing a short-lived empire stretching across the south-eastern archipelago and coastal regions. She had been successful at guiding him towards more gentle governance, teaching him that free men worked harder than slaves, that reasonable taxation would ultimately produce greater returns in the long run, and many other things... which ultimately resulted in several of his subordinates deciding that he had 'gone soft' and was no longer fit to rule. They murdered him in his sleep, spraying his companion with his blood - and then tortured and executed her publicly, blaming her for 'bewitching' their once-respected chieftain. Subsequently, his empire had been torn apart by the internal struggles of his generals, joining many others in the dustbin of history.

Hearing of this - and knowing that_she_ held the same soul that had suffered through these trials - did not dissuade her, however. If anything, it made her more determined. Her past self had gone through so much, struggled so greatly - and yet, the desire to make life just a little bit easier for those poor souls who did not have the option of simply resting eternally-content behind the kekkai still burned in her heart. Such a desire could not go unanswered. Even if it meant that she might meet her end in the same fashion, she had to try!

And eventually, she got her chance. The Kirin's scrying-activities kept them abreast of developments beyond their mountaintop sanctuary - and also informed them of the rise of a new, dawning power on the continent: King Kranach of Makerath, not yet known as 'The Conqueror', but already hard at work earning that moniker. Not of royal blood, he had been born into a family of minor nobles with little wealth to their name - but apparently, he had never been satisfied with what he had... and indeed always seen strength as the means to change it. Growing up, he'd used what little money and influence his family could scrape together to secure training for himself - in swordsmanship and battlefield tactics. His skill at both soon earned him an officer's post in the army of his home, an until-then fairly unremarkable city-state in the south-eastern territories.

But of course, he had not been satisfied with this, either. He distinguished himself in battle with Centaur marauders, both through his personal skill and brutality, and his ability to rally men to his side and motivate them with sheer, bloody-minded determination. He had the kind of force of personality, a conviction of his own invincibility, that soldiers of all ages tended to naturally be drawn to. Soon, he had become General of the Armies. Not long after, he decided that he didn't much care for taking orders from a weak, ineffective and indolent king (which, to be fair, was a somewhat accurate assessment of the then-monarch) and launched a palace coup, leading men who'd grown to be far more loyal to him than to their supposed ruler.

Once he held Makerath, and had cemented his power through a suitable number of executions, it didn't take long for him to start thinking that a single city-state really wasn't enough - and then taking some good, hard looks at his neighbors. They, too, looked at him - but clearly expected that they had time to prepare. Surely, he'd spend at least a few years solidifying his reign, resting on his laurels, and getting used to the pleasures and comforts that came with being the absolute ruler of his own tiny kingdom... right? Wrong. King Kranach had worn the crown for no more than three months by the time he launched his first, daring invasion, catching his neighbor off-guard following a successfully-repulsed Centaur-attack.

The Kirin, already then, could see the shadow of things to come. A man who was not happy with one_city-state was unlikely to be content with _two, either. Whatever hat he wore, he was clearly a soldier first and foremost - one who saw enemies all around him, wherever he looked. He respected only strength, and saw any attempt to negotiate, to forge treaties, alliances or trade-agreements, as signs of weakness. Indeed, he was all set to become a tyrant and conqueror of unprecedented cruelty...

If anyone had ever needed a Voice of Compassion by his side, it was him - and despite the worries of her peers, Korlin decided that it would be her. She was not as naive or reckless as they thought, however - she prepared carefully, researching her target with both magical scrying and more conventional techniques, analyzing his personality, preferences and tastes. When at last she approached his castle, she did so wearing a carefully-prepared form that suited his taste in women - buxom, wide-hipped, lightly-tanned and golden-blond. His origins once again shining through - he had little interest in the kind of pale, wasp-waisted beauties his noble peers tended to prefer.

The guards at the gate sought to bar her path - which was, after all, their job - but she had a point to make. A touch from her, and they both collapsed into a deep sleep from which they would not easily stir. The heavy gates, locked though they were, sprang open seemingly on their own as she stepped closer. Every other guard who sought to accost her similarly fell before her magic - their armor clanging loudly as it hit the floor. Still, this was the merciful way to deal with them. Once she reached the throne-room, where Kranach was holding court with several of his generals and the nobles who somewhat reluctantly supported him, she was forced to get nasty - to make a show of it.

Two sentinels immediately made a grab for her as she stepped in. She struck them with her outstretched fists, sending both of them flying back through the air, tracing sparks before rolling across the floor with their muscles temporarily paralyzed. This did not fail to draw the attention of the men who'd gathered around the throne - the generals unsheathed their swords, while the nobles quickly shrank back, seeking to hide behind their bulkier peers. They did not, however, attack her - rather, they looked nervously up at the man on the throne, awaiting his orders. Disciplined - or well-heeled, if one wanted to be unkind.

Finally seeing Kranach in the flesh, she was able to confirm the impression she'd formed of him through scrying. He was a formidable man, tall and muscular, and clearly hadn't allowed himself to grow soft after seizing throne and crown. His beard and eyebrows alike were black and bushy, his hair cut short to fit under a helmet - and indeed, a commissioned goldsmith had successfully fused the traditional crown of Makerath with a helmet of gilded steel to create a piece of headgear suitable for a conqueror. His eyes, meanwhile, were sharp, thoughtful... and entirely pitiless.

He gave no order to attack as she approached. Instead, he waved his hand - and the assembled generals reluctantly cleared out of her way, allowing her to approach the raised dais that the throne sat upon. Once she'd reached the first step, she fell to her knees, bowed deeply, and made the requisite introductions - declaring herself a Kirin, come to serve as his Voice of Compassion in light of both his accomplishments to date and his grand plans for further conquest. The display she'd just made - walking directly into his fortress, unhindered by walls, gates and guards, and even demonstrating her ability to send armed men flying like toy soldiers with a wave of her hand, provided the subtext.

"So... what would accepting you as my 'Voice of Reason' entail, exactly?" He had thoughtfully asked, stroking his beard, no doubt already considering the possibilities that her presence would bring. She had answered, readily enough - all of her magical power would be at his disposal, and she would be able to root out spies, assassins and traitors within his ranks thanks to her 'Eyes of Wisdom'. All she asked in return was an adviser's privilege - that he listen to her before making his decisions. If, after hearing what she had to say, he still chose to a different path than that which she recommended, that would be entirely his decision - she expected no power over him, no true authority, nor would she abandon his side or deny him the use of her powers if he elected to ignore her, be it once or many times.

It was a rather lopsided agreement, on the surface of it - one that no self-respecting tyrant or warlord could reasonably turn down. Certainly not one that a man as calculating as King Kranach was about to pass up. Still, before agreeing, he leaned down a bit to look at her more closely, and a slow smile spread across his lips. "I have heard tales of your kind..." he commented casually. "According to some of them, you Kirin will share not just your counsel, but your bodies as well, with your chosen lords... is that true?" She had, of course, nodded, expression never flickering. "Indeed it is so, my lord. I am at your disposal whenever you require it, in whatever role you see fit."

As his smile turned lecherous, he nodded and finally declared that he would accept her as his 'Voice of Compassion'... and in that moment, she felt like she was seeing a lot of overlapping scenes. A lot of men sitting on similar chairs, wearing similar hats and nigh-identical smiles. Memories of past lives, she knew - her soul had been reincarnated more than once, she was starting to suspect. Ever since the Age of the Gods, when the Elves had ruled the world with casual cruelty, her spirit had been unbending - always clawing its way out of Xangri-Du, always seeking someone she could try to guide along the path of purity. How many times had she come to a hideous end, seen all her work trashed by cruelty, intolerance, greed and narrow-minded ignorance? Regardless of the exact number, the answer clearly remained "Not enough times to quell the fire within."

The deal she had proposed - and found accepted - was one that had been carefully narrowed down as the ideal by many past Kirin, including her own past incarnations. Anyone who rated a Voice of Compassion in the first place was going to be highly sensitive to any suggestion that he might lose supremacy, so you had to make it clear that you were purely an 'adviser'. The promise of the Kirin's exceptional magical power provided a very compelling carrot, while their inherent weakness to blood effectively prevented their new 'lords' from abusing those magical abilities in the ways they'd prefer.

Perhaps it seemed_counterproductive to make it so clear that their lord could ignore their advice with impunity, suffering no consequences for it - but past experiences made it clear that this was the best possible move. Anything else would place 'restrictions' on the ruler, which was something conquerors inevitably chafed under - and even if a lord repeatedly committed cruel acts while ignoring his Kirin's words of compassion and mercy, past events had repeatedly shown that simply the knowledge that the Kirin was _there, judging them, looking at them with disappointment and distaste every time they sparked fresh bloodshed, had a nigh-inevitable moderating effect on their behavior over time.

Indeed, even the offer of 'bedroom services' was part of the calculation. It added a certain 'adult' edge to the stories of the Kirin 'Voice of Compassion', ensuring that those stories continued to circulate, reaching the ears of many - and thus laying the groundwork for future Voices of Compassion. Of course, the promise of a flexible mistress who would willingly adapt to any personal preferences and kinks, and who could be absolutely counted on not to slip a knife between their lord's ribs at a vulnerable moment, made for quite a neat little extra carrot - peasant, soldier, general or king, every man tended to be ready to think with the wrong head if given suitable incentive. And finally, it also served as an additional emphasis for the earlier-stated 'background disapproval'. After all, if a lord had shed blood, be it by fighting in battles or watching executions, he had to carefully bathe himself before he could partake of his Kirin mistress again - forcing him to reflect on his actions, and effectively ensuring that he could not avoid thinking of bloodshed as a nuisance at the very least.

Regardless, the well-worn old model had once again worked - and so, she had entered the service of Kranach the Conqueror. She assisted him in vetting his general staff, his servants, and the nobles who had sworn allegiance to him - though, in the later case, it was not so much a matter of identifying those who had fell plans, but rather of letting him know exactly what_plans each noble was harboring, so that he could suitably outmaneuver them or play them up against each other. On the other hand, he was understandably disappointed to learn that her weakness to blood didn't _just mean that she couldn't provide direct magical support on the battlefield, but also that any enchantment she weaved would dissolve if they came into contact with as much as a drop of the crimson liquid. Armies tended not to care for enchanted weapons or armor that would turn mundane the first time they were used - never mind golems, however towering and intimidating, that would crumble into a pile of gravel and sand the moment someone bled on them.

Of course, it was dangerous to so disappoint a man of such a martial bend. Hence, she did her best to 'make it up to him' - that was, softening his displeasure by illustrating her utility in a different arena, namely the bedroom. Kranach was a rough-handed soldier there as well - hardly a skilled lover - but he had great stamina, great strength, and rather impressive girth for a human... and, well, he was the first man she'd ever been with who didn't feel like he was part of her immediate family. Every night, he'd drag her into bed with him, and every night she'd eagerly spread her legs for him - enjoying even the rough handling he gave her, the almost animalistic rutting he poured into her.

At first, he'd just lie on top of her, pounding her pussy as she watched his increasingly-sweaty face pant above her, one of his hands rhythmically squeezing her breasts as he flexed his hips up and down. The most pedestrian kind of sex possible, save for the rather impressive strength he demonstrated by holding himself up using just one hand. But once she started to sweetly suggest other activities which he might find... enjoyable, he proved to be far more flexible than she had halfway feared. It wasn't so much that he had any particular interest in _her_pleasure, but rather that he was more than willing to seek out new pleasures of his own... not that this stopped her from enjoying it just as much, of course!

Thus, they were soon mixing things up with new positions including doggystyle, cowgirl, reverse_cowgirl, sideways with raised leg, standing against the wall and - thanks to his prodigious strength - 'lifted bodily with her legs behind her ears'. Her ass, too, was soon seeing just as much of his thick cock as her pussy was - nevermind all the things she did with her _mouth. Of course, she didn't explain to him that she had two hundred years of increasingly kinky sexual experience behind her - rather preferring to subtly prod him into 'suggesting' an act which she would then 'obediently' perform for him. Not that he didn't have the occasional brainwave of his own - like how he took to dragging her aside after each of his daily training-and-sparring sessions, commanding her to lick the sweat off his cock, balls, and dank ass-crack. Of course, if he was hoping to humiliate her in so doing, he was likely disappointed - she was just glad to see some of his creativity being turned to purposes other than finding new ways to slaughter his fellow men.

One thing he needed no_particular prodding for was experimenting with her shape-shifting abilities in bed. At various times, he ordered her to transform into an 'elven princess', certain kinds of female Beastkin, and even a mermaid - albeit without the inconvenient 'gills that dry out rapidly outside the water' bit - just so he could try what it was like to fuck 'em. She was perfectly happy to go along with all of these, enjoying the variety as much as _he clearly did - being a mermaid was particularly interesting, since it left her effectively immobilized on top of their bed, her heavy tail depressing the mattress significantly while he climbed all over her, mounting her with an eager look in his eyes.

Whatever he asked for, be it by her prodding or his own desires, she gave to him. Going ass-to-mouth or licking his sphincter gave her no pause, despite the severe lack of suitable bathing-facilities in the city-state that served as his base of operations. The only time he requests had actually managed to make her stomach turn, she'd been careful to conceal her feelings - lest he decide to pursue such things further just to get a rise out of her. This was when he'd ordered her to transform into a child-like version of the form she usually wore around him - the well-stacked, curvaceous blonde.

She'd done as he'd asked - assuming a form that resembled a rather skinny ten-year-old, still blond but with barely-budding breasts and near-nonexistent curves. She had moaned and even cum as he fucked her like this, repeatedly and just as roughly as ever - his size even more filling and orifice-stretching while in this form - but inside she'd quailed. She had been infinitely happy when he'd subsequently declared that, while it had been an interesting experience, he rather preferred his women a fair bit more 'mature', in several ways.

It wouldn't be the last time she had to perform a distasteful sexual duty during her stay with King Kranach, however. While their bedroom games developed, so did his nascent empire - with more and more city-states being added to it through conquest and, occasionally, with her help, diplomacy. There was not a shred of mercy or compassion in Kranach the Conqueror, but he was not blind to the purely utilitarian advantages of a 'softer' approach. A city taken through diplomacy was generally more intact and thus more valuable than one taken through siege, and both soldiers and peasants were useful resources that he had no interest in wasting if it could be avoided. Why kill people when you could bleed them dry with heavy taxes for years to come?

Still, not all city-states were amenable to the compelling argument of 'Bow to me now, or do it later after I've cut the legs out from under you'. Some were too proud - others too clever for their own good. So it was with Lucravia, a city-state that had long been ruled by a powerful Oligarchy who firmly believed in the power of gold. When Kranach threatened them, they responded the same way they usually did when threatened - they hired vast numbers of mercenaries to supplement their own army which was, on its own, remarkably well-equipped in terms of enchanted gear... if not terribly well-led.

Unfortunately for them, their rather blatant willingness to use the mercenaries as disposable pawns in order to protect their own 'elite' soldiers did not endear them to their employees - nor did their patently obvious arrogance or decadence. A secret message from Kranach provided them with a counter-offer - leading to the infamous 'Sacking of Lucravia', as the mercenaries turned on their employers and opened the gates from the inside. There was fighting in the streets - and then, as the dust settled, it got worse.

Among the things Kranach had offered the mercenaries in order to sway their loyalties was first pick of the women. Lucravia was famous for them, after all - the oligarchs, the nobles, they all surrounded themselves with beautiful women in order to showcase their wealth and taste. Upscale brothels and escort-services were everywhere, never mind all the personal concubines. The mercenaries had been forced to watch their employers carouse with their mistresses, while their own meager paycheck fell far short of what it cost to buy women of such quality. Now, they ranged out into the city seeking to take by force what they could not buy - and not far behind them were Kranach's own troops, unwilling to sit idly by while their newfound allies had all the fun.

Korlin had been unwilling and, indeed, unable to accept this - in part because she blamed herself. It was she who had advised Kranach to negotiate with the mercenaries, offering them enough incentive to turn on their masters and open the gates - thus bypassing a battle that might have cost hundreds if not thousands of lives, and a siege that would have left the the regular people of Lucravia starving in the streets while their lords continued to feast in their palaces and mansions. Needless to say, using Lucravia's beautiful courtesans as a bargaining-chip had been Kranach's own little twist... and thus it now seemed as if the thousands of lives she had saved would instead be replaced by thousands of beaten, raped and traumatized women.

She had gone to Kranach, fire in her eyes, and confronted him as he watched his troops flood the city with a look of satisfaction in his eyes. She'd warned him that what he was about to do would color his reign for decades to come, that other city-states would be hesitant to negotiate with him for fear that their women might pay the price - that the soldiers and militias of any future target he sought to invade would fight with insane fury as they sought to defend the virtue of the wives and daughters who hid behind them.

He grimaced at her, unable to counter all of her arguments, and finally looked away with a scowl. "What would you have me do, then? I already promised the mercenaries their pick of the women - if I recanted now, they would turn on me in a heartbeat. With my forces so intermingled with them as they now are, the result would be a chaotic bloodbath with many of those 'innocents' you so love caught in the middle. Lucravia would_burn_. Perhaps I could hold back my own soldiers, but even that I would not bet on - denied such long-awaited pleasure, they might well mutiny!"

Then, he turned to face her again, and - with a dismissive snort - said those fateful words. "Or, what... would you pleasure all the men who now flood that fallen city in search of release? Would you put your own body between them and some gaggle of expensive whores you've never met?" Like many sociopaths, he found it difficult to accept that anyone could truly care more for others than for themselves. If he had ever truly understood what it was the Kirin in general and the Voices of Compassion in particular stood for, he would not have been at all surprised when Korlin immediately agreed.

Caught by his own words again, muttering curses into his beard as Korlin restated her complete willingness to satisfy every last member of the invading force - mercenaries and loyal soldiers alike - if it meant preventing them from laying hands on the city's innocent women, he called upon his messengers and officers and carried through with it. His soldiers were reigned in, then pushed forwards to encircle the advancing mercenaries - stopping them as they poured down alleyways and avenues - not to start a fight, but simply to deliver a message: The women of the city were now off-limit, but there was no need to fret - in return for their restraint, they would be given the opportunity to satisfy their desires with a genuine Kirin, a woman whose beauty and sexual skills far surpassed any mere mortal.

While the mercenaries were thus shepherded back out of the city, a large tent with attached bathing-facilities was set up for Korlin's use - and the army engineers quickly went to work, putting together some improvised scaffolding designed to allow her to 'service' as many men at once as possible. She was tied into it - not to restrain her, especially since her magic would allow her to easily break free the moment she decided to, but simply to keep her in place. As the men - eyes hungry and breath swift - began to filter into the tent, she found herself half-sitting, half-squatting over a low incline designed to let a man easily slide down between her legs and back out again. Above it, a second floor would make her mouth or chest available to a kneeling man - and of course, there was plenty of space behind her.

She'd changed her form for the the occasion - discarding the buxom blonde she'd designed specifically with Kranach's tastes in mind in favor of a more elegant shape, similar to the slender figure generally seen on Lucravia's many Courtesans. She'd gone a bit beyond that, however - making herself more beautiful and erotic than any normal person could hope to be. Large, heavy breasts and a big, soft ass, combined with a narrow waist and a pair of tight orifices... if these men had been dissuaded from their path with the promise of an impossible beauty at their disposal, she would not disappoint them.

They entered naked, skin still moist - all of them had bathed beforehand, by specific orders, in order to remove any bloodstains that might still cling to their skin after the fighting in the city. Even so, the smell of metal, leather, smoke and, yes, blood, still clung to them somehow. It was not a pleasant smell to her nose - but at least she wasn't physically sickened by their mere presence. Fortunate, that, considering the amount of time she'd have to spend surrounded by five of them at a time.

One slipped in beneath her, his hips rising and his cock seeking the waiting hole between her widely-spread legs. Another climbed the small staircase to the second floor and slapped her face with his rock-hard cock before pushing it forcefully down her throat - giving no consideration to her need to breathe... though, fortunately, a little bit more shapeshifting easily bypassed that issue. A third was behind her, and a thick gob of his spit fell on her ass, running down the crack while he worked the slimy saliva into her sphincter. It was rudimentary lubrication at best, but that didn't stop him from forcing his warty cock through her sphincter with all his strength - the texture making her happy indeed that she was immune to all known diseases, including sexually transferred ones. Two more men soon found the last available positions - at her side, beyond the point where her wrists had been tied to the scaffolding, her soft, yet firm hands enfolding their shafts and steadily jacking them off.

None of them were gentle. All were driven by pure, undiluted lust, and thrust into her without any kind of consideration for her pleasure, enjoyment, or even life. Going by the dictionary definition of the word, it is impossible to rape a willing partner - but the mercenaries gave it their level best anyway, and likely had never read a dictionary in the first place regardless. Their cocks pounded her deliberately-tight holes with hungry eagerness, while their rough, sword-calloused hands roamed her body, pinching and slapping and squeezing. When they finally groaned in orgasm, spraying their stinking seed into one of her holes - or across her pure, white skin - they were immediately replaced by another. The tent filled up rapidly with naked, aroused men, leering and often masturbating as they watched her and waited their turn.

Soon, her breasts and buttocks were sore and reddened from the continuous rough handling. Her shape-shifting kept both of her holes tight, but it couldn't stop her labia and sphincter alike from growing increasingly puffy, swollen and sensitive from the endless wear and tear. Load after load went down her throat, filling her stomach sickeningly. Some went further than that, grinning sadistically as they loomed above her, fingers wrapped in her golden hair while they followed up the loads by emptying their bladders as well - clearly relishing the opportunity to personally taint something so beautiful and etheric as a Kirin. Said beauty, meanwhile, was growing steadily more tarnished as more and more of her skin and hair was marked with thick-flowing spurts of caked-on, oozing cum. Between the mercenaries and Kranach's own extensive forces, an army of over 10.000 men was now encamped before the breached walls of Lucravia - and she had essentially volunteered to pleasure every last one of them without rest or restraint.

At this point, Sayn finally interrupted the story, her jaw hanging low. "Ten thousand?! I knew you were more experienced than me, but... come on, you said I was at least catching up! I'm not even at ONE thousand sex-partners, total, yet..." Korlin smiled mischievously and shook her head. "Now, now... I didn't say that I actually fucked an entire ten-thousand-man army, did I? That was, indeed, what I had agreed to do, but... the reality was different, and various factors interfered. Of course, I was entirely_ready_ to go through with it all, if it meant preventing 'The Sacking of Lucravia' from turning into 'The Rape of Lucravia'... but I also wasn't surprised when the actual number of 'guests' I entertained in that tent proved to be far lower."

For starters, though she had freely offered to service any man, mercenary or soldier, Kranach's forces had a healthy respect for both their fearsome and ruthless lord... and, indeed, for her efforts to curb that ruthlessness. Many turned away from the tent simply because her self-sacrifice made them suddenly ashamed of what they had been ready to do. Others turned away because they feared that, despite reassurances to the contrary, their noble leader - who did, indeed, look more than a little testy at that particular time - might seek revenge for their trespass later. The rest simply followed the majority, driven by group-pressure and a sense of shared identity. "Those mercenaries may be slaves to their desires, but we_soldiers_ are here for glory and conquest, and not just looking to loot and rape!" They essentially declared to each other, creating a kind of self-reinforcing discipline that would effectively restrain them during future invasions as well.

As for the mercenaries, many of them didn't make it into the tent either. As they lined up for the attached baths, Kranach's officers circulated among them with a whispered offer: If they agreed to step away from their line and forfeit their claim to both the city's women and the Kirin, they'd receive an additional, monetary bonus. On top of that, the bevvy of regular 'camp-followers' that Kranach's forces had inevitably picked up were suddenly out in force, waving their goods at the men waiting in line and for once not even asking for payment up front. They, too, had a whisper: Why spend so long and pass up such a payout just to have a go at a woman who'd already been mobbed by a hundred of their mates, when there were other women available right now, right in front of them? Plain old red-blooded whores for the taking, willing to do all kinds of filthy things for a copper or two... what, really, did a Kirin have that they didn't? Both arguments, of course, only grew stronger with every minute the mercenaries spent waiting in line.

Officially, Kranach had simply set things up as she'd requested, taking her on her word. But someone_had given those officers their orders, and provided gold for both the mercenaries and the camp-followers. Whoever that might _possibly_be, they effectively cut down the number of mercenaries that visited Korlin's tent to something like five hundred. That, however, was still a _lot of rough-handed, lustful men - and once they noticed that there wasn't more people filing in behind them, taking off some of the pressure to hurry, they became more inclined to... take their time. Several even decided that, hey, since the line had shrunk so precipitously, they might as well dart to the back of it again after shooting their load. The agreement was that they be_satisfied_, after all, and that took more than just _one_good lay!

Thus, despite all the measures taken by some anonymous personage, she wound up spending the entire night in the tent, tied down and servicing rough-handed mercenary after rough-handed mercenary - merely with more repeat customers than would otherwise have been the case. The pit that had been dug beneath her spread thighs, bridged by the legs of whatever man lay beneath her, was steadily filling up with thick, white cum drained from her increasingly-gooey pussy and ass. Her stomach, by the end of it all, held at least two or three hundred cumloads - she'd been forced to use her shapeshifting to enlarge both her stomach and her belly, letting her jizz-filled innards balloon obscenely outwards. The fact that there was at least a dozen or so bladderfuls of piss mixed into the roiling white slime that strained against her once-flat midriff was something she carefully did not think about.

Even so, she continued to keep both of her worn-ragged orifices tight, milking every man who guested them - just as she carefully worked every cock that entered her mouth with mouth and tongue, as if she could not wait to add yet another load to her overstrained stomach. Her breasts were still impossibly bouncy and impossibly perky, despite all the pain they'd been subjected to - squeezed together around a thick cock, or just endlessly mauled and roughly squeezed. Her ass-cheeks were a mass of dark-red hand-prints, with the central bits being deep purple.

Throughout it all, she'd kept her eyes closed - sensing her surroundings, counting the coming and going of the mercenaries with her magic, but refusing to look at any of them. If she did, her eyes would see into their hideous, twisted souls, and she would be sickened far more effectively than any amount of acrid piss or bitter cum poured down her throat could ever hope to. Even so, despite having learned a fine appreciation for rough sex from her regular interactions with Kranach, she had not reached a single orgasm of her own while pleasuring five hundred men.

Things did not noticeably improve as the crowd in the tent finally thinned out. In the end, there was just a handful left, each of whom had already availed themselves to her services three or four times - and while their dicks now hung limp and rubbery between their legs, they all agreed that they weren't really satisfied, after all. They gathered around her, filled with sadistic glee - brutally spanking her already-bruised buttocks, slapping around her sore tits, biting the nipples with agonizing force, pulling her hair and spitting in her mouth...

Until, that was, the sound of heavy boots announced a new arrival, and she finally opened her eyes - albeit not easily, seeing as they were practically glued shut by the numerous cum-loads that had splashed across her face. Kranach himself had entered the tent - clad in the gilded, heavily-enchanted armor he usually wore into battle, sword at his side, and face like a thundercloud. The sadistic mercenaries recoiled in sudden fear, backing away from her - before quickly reminding him that he _had_given them full permission to 'satiate their desires' using the Kirin.

Kranach just stared them down for a moment, before commenting "I should think that mercenaries, of all people, would know when it is time to flee with what plunder they have already claimed, rather than continue to pillage and risk their lives thereby..." It was rather hard for a handful of naked men to bear up under such a gaze from a fully-armed, fully-armored king, who possessed a rather fearsome presence on top of everything. Predictably, they took his advice and fled immediately.

Kranach cut her down with a swipe of his sword - then broke the scaffolding surrounding her with a kick, just for emphasis. He looked down at her as she crouched amid the pieces, rubbing her wrists where they had been tied in place, and grimaced. "Tch... to think you actually went through with it. Have you no pride, woman?!" He demanded. Gritting her teeth, she rose - even as she shifted back into the form she'd worn when they first met, the one he had come to recognize as 'her', and returned his glare. "More than a man who would let_his_ woman be so freely used by hundred of lustful soldiers!" she retorted, holding her head high despite the slimy mix of cum and sweat that still coated her skin. "For I have the courage of my convictions! To abandon your ideals and beliefs just because they threaten to become inconvenient or unpleasant for you personally - is that not the greatest cowardice?"

He didn't answer. Instead, he just cursed into his beard, turned his back on her, and marched back out of the tent. She took a moment to collect herself, then followed - entering the bathing-facilities that had been set up for the mercenaries, and thoroughly rinsing herself off in the by-then rather lukewarm water. She could have done it with magic, but she felt a strong need to feel the cleansing water against her skin. Once she was clean, she summoned up a suitably elegant dress for herself and stepped out, rejoining King Kranach in his command-tent without a word. The events of that day were never discussed again, though of course the stories spread like wildfire. The combination of saint-like self-sacrifice and thoroughly adult content made it too good a tale not to pass on - and soon it was making its way through every tavern on the continent.

Meanwhile, Korlin had soon noticed that Kranach looked at her... differently, now. There was a sense of_respect_ there, now - a recognition that she had shown him a different kind of strength than the one he was familiar with. This became even more noticeable the next time he called her to his bed - all of a sudden, there was a strange hesitation to his demands. She knew why, of course - she could see the thoughts that were humming away in his mind, now, and knew what lay beneath them. Spending so much time with the man, she had perceived - with her Eyes of Wisdom - the deeper truths of his character that lay concealed beneath the shallow image of the fearsome conqueror that he showed his soldiers, subjects... and enemies.

Kranach was a cruel and ruthless man, to be sure - but it was not ambition that had driven him to seize a crown, not was it mere greed that still pushed him to add more to his collection. Rather, it was a sort of arrogance - a genuine conviction that he was more fit to rule, more fit to make the big decisions, than anyone else. After all, if those _other_kings and princes had been better than him, he could not have taken their cities so easily, could he? However, this self-image was a difficult burden to bear. Plate-armor, he wore with ease - but the crown had grown steadily heavier on his head. So _many_decisions to make, and mistakes could not be tolerated! Ruthless though he was with his subordinates, he held himself to an even higher standard, and the sheer stress of it was _tearing_at him.

He was tired. On a deep level, he sincerely wished that there was_someone more able than him, who could handle all those difficult decisions. Then he could go back to just being a soldier, obeying orders - a simple, easy life... but those orders _had_to come from someone he respected, someone he recognized as more able in that role than he himself could be. And that was a short list... very short indeed. But at Lucravia, _she_had shown him up, outmaneuvered him, obtained the result _she_wanted, and shamed him with her words besides. On a subconscious level, he already saw her as someone he could safely hand his authority over to... but of course, that could never work. The soldiers followed and respected _him, the nobles were kept in check by _fear_of him - such things could not be transferred as easily as handing over a crown.

Still, it was an opening. A blatant one. If she had simply suggested, up front, that she might take charge from the shadows with him as the puppet-ruler occupying the throne, he would, of course, have refused - pride, alone, would have ensured that. But if she eased_him into it, let him feel firsthand the relaxing ease of relinquishing control... got him used to handing his authority over to her... it could work. It _would_work. And she could not pass up the opportunity - after all, the entire Lucravia-debacle had come about because he had taken her advice only in a _twisted form. There would not be a second such incident.

As a first step, she began to act more... willful, in bed. Pushing him into positions of her choosing, calling on him to fuck her harder or more gently, telling him to keep_going when he might otherwise have had his fill. He responded well - and even as the dynamic shifted in their bedroom, the sense of passion rose. No words were ever exchanged, no definitive agreements were reached - but bit by bit, everything changed. _He became a guest in her bed, not the other way around. She set the pace, called the shots, and gave him what pleasure she chose.

In truth, she had enjoyed their past relationship more - his roughness had never been sadistic, like that of the mercenaries, but simply a rather endearing expression of inexperience. The feeling of his strong, muscular body on top of hers, the sweat dripping from his brow as he pounded her with all the intensity of a rutting animal... regardless of his near-complete lack of technique, she had never failed to reach several climaxes whenever he'd bedded her. But she hadn't left Xangri-Du in order to get her jollies on with a ruthless warlord - she'd come there, and taken her place at his side, in order to guide him on a better path... even if it meant leading him along it on a leash.

Soon, he had submitted utterly to her. Magical chains bound him to their bed as she rode him until _she_was satisfied, an enchanted cock-ring denying him release until _she_chose to grant it. She taught him to pleasure her skillfully with fingers, tongue and cock, and he studied ardently. Soon, she gave him a rather daring gift - a chastity-belt, enchanted by her own hand, which would open only to her touch. From that point, he always wore it under his armor and his rich robes. As he grew more comfortable in his submission, she added an additional accessory to it - a metallic vise that fully enclosed his balls, and would tighten painfully on a gesture from her.

This was not the outcome she had hoped for or desired. Indeed, she had hoped to become his friend and confidant, and perhaps grow a genuine bond of love. Instead, she had become his mistress - but in the end, her purpose was served. The chastity-belt was her foot in the door, a way to extend her dominion beyond the bedchamber. In the council-chamber or on his throne, whenever his temper or pride threatened to push him into aggressive actions that would spark new bloodshed, she could simply... tighten her grip on his balls, as a silent reminder of where they lay. Usually, this was enough to give him pause and, with a grimace, show leniency to those he had been about to lash out against. Even if she was not present, word of his decisions would inevitably reach her ears eventually - and if she didn't like what she heard, he would face punishment rather than pleasure in the dark hours of the night.

She humiliated him, ordering him to lick her asshole or drink her piss. She tortured him with small bursts of magical lightning, dancing the bright-blue sparks across his balls, shaft, and even his nipples. She did both at the same time when she bent him over the side of the bed and roughly pounded his hairy ass with a strap-on she had crafted herself, one capable of transmitting painful shocks into the depths of his intestines. At times, she denied him release for weeks, even months, while he continued to pleasure her nightly. While all others saw Kranach as a fearsome, charismatic titan, who could make could send shivers down the spine of even the strongest of men with a single glare, he had, to her, become an eagerly-obedient slave. It was almost too easy, really... and the fact that she found little joy in her new role was ultimately irrelevant.

Her 'advice', thus, had become absolute orders. For all that she officially remained just an adviser and a concubine, she had in truth become the power behind the throne - steering him away from the path of bloodstained conquest, and towards a more diplomatic sort of empire-building. Even this still involved a lot more saber-rattling and subtle threats than she was really comfortable with - but the result was the important thing: Fewer battles, less bloodshed, more lives spared. Of course, threats_were_ pretty effective when you had such a large army at your disposal - especially while the rapidly-circulating stories of the Sacking of Lucravia made most city-states exceedingly reluctant to hire mercenaries to protect themselves.

At its height, Kranach the Conqueror's empire covered everything from the western border of the Great Plains to the treeline of the heavily-forested Beaskin Territories to the west, from the shores of the Great Bay to the Griffinclaw mountain-range that separates the northern and southern parts of the human lands. At the time, this was fully half of the core human settlements - and he was planning a campaign to simultaneously strike across several of the connecting passes during spring, in order to establish a foothold in the northern region and continue his conquest there. Within the areas he held, the taxes were mostly reasonable, and the laws not overly restrictive - though conscription continued to take many young men from their families, and any breach of the laws were still cruelly punished. All in all, Korlin felt that she could take some measure of pride in what she had accomplished.

"...the rest, I'm sure you know from your studies..." Korlin finished with a sigh. "Although, the tales claiming that I had placed some spell on Kranach to the effect that 'no man could hope to slay him' is bunk - just later history-writers embellishing things after the fact, using the fearsome power of hindsight." Sayn nodded slowly. Of course she'd remember - her studies on the rise and fall of previous empires had focused particularly on the 'fall' bit, after all... hoping to learn from their mistakes rather than repeating them herself.

Still, there was no way any mere history-book could hope to truly convey what she had seen back then - the sheer, incandescent fury that possessed Kranach when the message reached him from the south. While he had marshaled his forces near the northern mountains, his oldest enemies - the Centaurs of the Great Plains - had taken advantage. Somehow, they had learned that the fortifications lining the human lands had been stripped down to the bone - and with speed and numbers, overwhelmed them. A hungry horde had flowed into the lands surrounding Makerath, plundering farmsteads and villages. Food, gold, jewelry and everything else that wasn't nailed down had been carried off - and of course, every woman who had not managed to find a particularly good hiding-place was ruthlessly and repeatedly raped, leaving many of them to die from blood-loss or internal injuries in the aftermath. The country estate that Kranach had given to his previously-impoverished family after seizing the crown had not been spared either. His aged father had been slain by the Centaurs... while his mother and sisters had been less fortunate.

Kranach had loudly and creatively cursed the soldiers and officers he had left behind to protect his native lands - but Korlin had easily been able to tell that the one he was truly angry at was himself. In his rush to conquer the world, he had neglected to properly protect his home. Regardless of the target, however, the fury that burned in his eyes could not be easily quelled. He had demanded of her that she get him back to the southern territories as quickly as possible, so that he could rally the forces that remained there for a punitive strike - moving his entire army back south would take an unacceptable amount of time, not to mention that it would then have to march right back north afterwards. She had advised against it - told him not to let his anger overwhelm his senses - but for once, he had refused to pay heed. Sensing the pain that lay beneath his fury, she had finally acquiesced, and brought him back to Makerath in the fastest possible way - by assuming her true form and letting him ride on her back, for the first and last time.

Once there, he had wasted no time drawing together a force from the surrounding city-states - including the remaining soldiers of Makerath itself, all of them just as filled with fury and sadness as he... virtually all of them had lost comrades or family, or more likely both, to the Centaur incursion. The officers who commanded them seemed halfway surprised that Kranach hadn't executed them on the spot for their failings - and thus strode forth with just as much determination as their men, hoping to redeem themselves. A mighty and well-motivated force thus advanced into the Great Plains, led by their fearsome and seemingly-invincible king - while she was left behind in Makerath. "Blood will be spilled. Oceans of it. Please - remain here, and await my return." That had been Kranach's last, pleading words to her.

He had been right, though. Much blood was spilled - unfortunately, most of it came from him and his soldiers. The ragged survivors that managed to make it back told of a fearsome ambush, thousands of Centaurs pouncing from all side, the sky darkened by solid clouds of arrows, their retreat cut off - complete encirclement. King Kranach, despite his fury, had realized that they would all die if they stood their ground, and led a charge to break through the Centaur lines and secure an avenue of retreat. He had succeeded, albeit at the cost of his own life - a third of his original force had managed to return, despite the Centaurs dogging their steps every piece of the way - and they spoke in hushed, awed voices of watching Kranach finally fall from his horse, still clinging to his sword even in death... three broken-off lances poking from his chest and an arrow in his eye that had been there practically since the battle started and failed to at all deter him.

The Centaur weren't far behind them, however - and with virtually every able-bodied man stripped from both Makerath and its neighboring city-states, it seemed there would be no stopping them. And that was when Korlin, for the first and the last time, had stepped onto the battlefield. A torrential downpour the night before had washed away most of the blood of the Centaur's first incursion, but even so, she remembered being sickened by the lingering smell. It had not, however, deterred her - and as a massive wave of Centaurs crested the rolling hills of the Great Plains and washed towards the virtually unmanned and barely-repaired fortifications, she had raised her hands and called upon every ounce of magic she possessed. A massive wall of fire, spanning several miles, had sprung up before her - barring the Centaurs' path and raising great clouds of steam as it scorched the sodden grass.

Faced with such sorcery, the Centaur - who had little in the way of talent when it came to magic - had panicked. They had plenty of room to stop - she had no intention of claiming any lives - but nonetheless they clearly feared that they had walked into a trap, an ambush, just like the one they themselves had executed earlier. Perhaps they had been struck with nightmarish visions of what would have happened if that wall of fire had risen a few minutes later... as she had been, for several nights afterwards. Regardless, they had turned and fled, practically in a rout, hoping to escape the nonexistent second prong of the trap.

This deterrence had brought Makerath and its neighbors enough time to repair their fortifications and bring in mercenaries - many of them quite desperate for work - to supplement their troops. By the time the Centaurs cautiously returned to prod the defenses, they found them quite solid. But Kranach the Conqueror was dead - and his empire died with him. The great army he had assembled in the north splintered as soon as the news reached them, thousands of conscripts deserting on the spot to return to their families, their officers too busy arguing about who should take command and what they should do next to stop them. City-states that had obediently bowed their heads to Kranach, be it out of fear or respect, now swiftly declared their independence.

Shaking off the memories - and the dark emotions they brought along - she smiled gently at Sayn. "Well, the point is, I know perfectly well what you're going through - I've_been_ there. Though, I must say - though it may not 'come natural' to you any more than it did to me, you do seem to be_enjoying_ the role of the dominatrix quite a bit more than I did." Sayn nodded thoughtfully. "You're probably right. I mean, it's not like I mind doing it... for that matter, it _is_really a lot of fun! It's just... stressful, you know?"

Korlin raised a fascinated eyebrow. "Indeed? So you're saying that wielding great power over others, while entertaining, carries with it a wearying sense of responsibility and a significant workload? How exceptional! Truly, you should set these discoveries of yours down in paper and ink so that later generations can mpph!" That was about as far as she got before Sayn snatched up a decorative pillow from her chair and forcefully nailed her in the face with it - displaying both impressive aim, considering its un-aerodynamic shape, and a strong throwing-arm. Apparently, her long-neglected talent at archery had transferred into pillow-fighting skills surprisingly well.

Removing the pillow from her face, she delicately wedged it into her own chair, assuming an imperious expression. "Some, I am sure, would seek retaliation for such an unprovoked attack..." she declared haughtily. "You are just fortunate that we Kirin are far too enlightened and pacifistic to consider such a course of action." They shared a laugh, then, and for a minute or two, quietly sipped wine together.

Sayn, eventually, broke the silence. "So... basically, you were running Kranach the Conqueror's empire during its glory-days, then?" Korlin shrugged. "More or less, I suppose. I had to be careful, and make certain allowances in order to mollify the generals and nobles who supported him... and, of course, avoid drawing any suspicion that I had greater influence over Kranach than a mere adviser ought. I had no desire to repeat the mistakes of my previous incarnation, obviously..." Sayn nodded, wincing - presumably at the thought of the unenviable fate that her beloved's past self had suffered.

"Well, I suppose that certainly explains why you were able to take over the governance of my_empire so easily!" she then quipped, eager to move the subject along from that dark place. "You had prior experience at managing an empire from the shadows." Korlin returned the grin, a glimmer in her eye. "Oh, indeed... and I didn't even have to put a chastity-belt on you to accomplish it! Not that even _my_powers of enchantment could have created one capable of containing your boundless desires, of course - even ensorcelled steel would have simply melted right off your hips, unable to stand up to the sheer, fiery _power of your ardor!" Sayn stuck out her tongue, rather spectacularly, no doubt wishing that she had more pillows at hand.

Once she'd spooled her tongue back into her jaw, she flashed a naughty grin. "Well, on that subject... is it weird that I find the thought of you ass-reaming friggin' Kranach the Conqueror with a strap-on kinda' hot? Not that I get why you'd need one, mind..." She gestured towards Korlin's groin, grin widening, as she said the last bit. Smiling naughtily herself, Korlin ran a hand over the indicated part of her body and let her cock emerge - creating a sudden bulge in her dress. "To answer the first question: Yes, it is extremely weird and a strong indication that you are an utterly hopeless, lust-frenzied pervert of the highest order..." she intoned, earning her another childish grimace and the sight of Sayn's fingers reaching instinctively for the pillow that wasn't there anymore.

"...and to answer the second... well, it's a bit hard to explain, honestly." she continued, her face more serious now. "Every person is different - and every_submissive_ is different. They all have their own turn-ons and turn-offs, their own limits, hard and soft. Their own likes and dislikes, however irrational. I... see such things, not that it truly takes more than some decent empathy and regular old eyes backed by an observant mindset. I knew that using my actual dick on Kranach would have been a step too far. I could have done it - he would not have resisted - but it would have crossed a line, and gnawed at his soul. To him, the difference between my flesh-and-blood cock, and a toy made from cold metal and strapped to my feminine loins with leather and wire, was a very important one."

She didn't need to say, out loud, that this was something Sayn needed to keep in mind as she continued to toy with her pet dragon - that she could easily push him into something that he'd later regret, potentially creating a festering resentment underneath his submission. Sayn, she knew, was well aware of this - and had remained alert to such things from the very beginning, carefully prodding Rubicundus' limits and tracking down his preferences without the benefit of her own Eyes of Wisdom. Well... she was keeping a literal eye on things, of course. She saw the red-scaled dragon in the garden often enough, and occasionally joined him for some quick, inevitably-pleasurable sex. She could see that he was relishing every torment, humiliation and denigration Sayn had heaped on him, and thirsted for more. She had already pushed past several of his previous 'soft limits', revealing yet more unexplored territory that he now longed to fully experience. Indeed, the place that their relationship was now heading towards was one he was desperately eager to reach, despite the implications...

"Do... you still _have_it?" Sayn's hesitant words pulled her from her reverie, and forced her to reassign some of her faculties to figuring out what 'it' she might be referring to. "What... the strap-on or the chastity-belt?" she asked playfully. Sayn grinned. "I meant the strap-on, but I'm curious about the chastity-belt too..." Leaning back in her chair, Korlin reached out her hands and, focusing briefly, reached into the web of raw, magical power that was so intimately intertwined with her very being, body and soul alike. She didn't need to speak any arcane words or make any complicated gestures - she simply called, and it answered.

Between her hands, a golden phallus emerged - highly detailed, right down to the heavy, metallic ball-sack that hung beneath its end. With a little more focus, she brought a harness of black leather into existence too, attached to its base. Grinning at the wide-eyed Sayn, she waved the hefty toy. "Sort of! It wasn't ever something I actually crafted - I merely manifested it, same as I tend to do with my clothes. It's quite a convenient way to obtain sex-toys, too - since they simply vanish when you no longer need them, there's no need to clean them or find suitable hiding-places for them."

Sayn slowly nodded, eyes narrowed and intent as she looked over the golden toy. Korlin had a keen feeling that she'd soon need to mix things up a bit when they were in bed together - certainly, her beloved seemed to be thinking up all_kinds_ of ways this particular ability of hers could be used. "As for the chastity-belt..." she continued, letting the strap-on dildo vanish into thin air again. "Kranach was wearing it when he died. Needless to say, I could not recover it. I expect it probably wound up on the hoard of some centaur chieftain who was blissfully ignorant of what the trophy he had claimed actually was."

This, of course, brought the atmosphere down a notch again, despite her attempt to add some levity at the end. Another few minutes of silence followed, along with more sips of wine - the bottle was nearly empty by now. Korlin turned the situation over in her head for a bit. She'd made it clear to Sayn, now, that she had enough experience to serve as a sounding-board and source of advice when it came to her role as Rubicundus' beloved Mistress. She'd provided a silent reminder to respect whatever limits the dragon might be hiding - sooner or later, they were _bound_to turn up - and also made her consider the way Kranach's empire had fallen. Hopefully, she'd taken the right thing away from it - not 'make sure you've got an heir ready', but rather 'don't let anger and vengeance turn you stupid, no matter how justified'.

She had not, however, addressed the fact that Sayn was tired and a bit stressed out from playing dominatrix to Rubicundus. So... first things first, it was time to restore the atmosphere and get Sayn's deliciously perverted mind thinking in the right directions again. "You know..." she said, affecting a deliberately casual tone. "Reminiscing about all the things I used to do with - and to - Kranach has made me kind of... nostalgic. Do you suppose you could lend me your pet dragon tomorrow? There's some things I'd like to... try out again."

Sayn giggled eagerly. "Oh, yes! By all means - honestly, I should've thought of suggesting that myself. It'll be a nice intermediary step before the next expansion of his training-regimen. How about I send him to your door suitably 'caged', hmm?" Korlin readily agreed. The cock-cage she had helped enchant provided Rubicundus with an all-in-one combination of pain, humiliation, and enforced submission - she could tell, at a glance, that it aroused him like nothing else.

Then, she casually rose from her seat. She hadn't vanished her own dick when she banished the golden dildo, and it had steadily hardened as she laid her plans. It stood out from her groin, now, creating a rather visible tent on the front of her dress, with a clearly-visible wet spot at the peak. Sayn was looking at it and licking her lips. "Well... if I'm going to be domming a dragon tomorrow, perhaps I had best get in some warm-up exercises..." she casually declared, throwing a sideways look down at the love of her life.

Sayn wasted no time leaping out of her own chair, and Korlin's sensitive nostrils vibrated as she smelled the free-flowing arousal between her legs. "Sounds like a party! Let's hurry back to my room, then... " As she turned around, Korlin stepped forwards and caught her in a firm embrace, pulling her back and holding her tight - and, not incidentally, lodging her still-clothed hard-on between the shorter girl's muscular buns. "Oh no..." she whispered into her lover's ears. "Not this time. This time, I won't be some consort, called to your chambers at your leisure. This time, I'm going to take you right here, in my own room, any way I like - and all I want to hear from you is 'Yes, Mistress'!" Sayn groaned, grinding her ass back against Korlin's groin. "Yes, Mistress..." she moaned, leaning back into her beloved's arms. Korlin smiled. Whatever stress and fatigue Sayn carried, it would soon be exorcised...

---

PSYCHOLOGICAL PROFILE

Name: Korlin (since there are only 108 Kirin in existence, they have no need for surnames)

Titles: Voice of Compassion to Kranach the Conqueror (former), Voice of Compassion to The Beastmaker, First Consort to the Beastmaker

Age: 731 - quasi-immortal

Sexual Profile: A bisexual hermaphrodite, she nonetheless has a mild preference for playing the 'female' role, preferably under some suitably large and rough male. In general, however, she is highly unprejudiced and focused on the enjoyment of her partner - fully subscribing to the general Kirin philosophy that any sexual act is pure and beautiful so long as everyone involved is a consenting adult and enjoying themselves. Beyond just serving as Sayn's perfect partner, she also readily assist the other members of the Harem with their various sexual hangups and perversions...

Psychological Assessment: Analyzing a Kirin is... difficult. Her apparent 'age' hides the fact that she still carries emotions and fragmented memories of her past incarnations within her - incarnations that have stood by the side of conquerors, warlords and would-be emperors for four thousand years. All evidence points to her genuinely and dearly loving Sayn, and being completely devoted to preserving the empire she built... but looking at the deeds of past Kirin who stood as the Voice of Compassion for other, less successful conquerors, it also seems likely that she would, in fact, appear to be Sayn's loving and devoted soul-mate regardless. After all, that is what Sayn_wants_ - and a role that has, indeed, handed Korlin the reins of the mightiest and most expansive empire the world has ever seen. The fact that Kirin cannot lie does not prevent them from being masters of deception - indeed, it may have helped them grow so skilled at it. Lies can be countered with truth, and falsehoods exposed to the light - but if you simply let people believe what suits them? None can ever prove you wrong...

Extrapolation: This, too, is difficult - there is little certain information to extrapolate from. Going by the 'apparent' truth, and assuming that Korlin is no more or less than what she appears to be, however, it seems like she is an exceptionally lucky and happy Kirin. She has found a true and genuine lover - something Kirin in general desire by cannot easily obtain - and has helped build an empire that is not merely large, but also incredibly benevolent. Even Kirin are not immune to the satisfaction of being proven right and shutting down naysayers - a pleasure that Korlin thus likely knows quite well, since prior to the Beastmaker's rise, many Kirin had come to doubt whether creating any kind of lasting peace among the fractious humans was even possible. Of course, it does remain to be seen whether Sayn's empire will truly stand the test of time... but regardless of what truths may or may not be hiding behind the Kirin's serene face, she will certainly bend every ounce of her not-insignificant powers to see that it does.