The army, and the large train of accompanying parties that followed it like birds that pick a dragon's scales clean, or perhaps like carrion birds trailing an injured animal, moved slowly. But there was so much to do that the movement was constant, in every direction, like an indecisive avalanche.

I spent the entire first day lying on an ox-driven wagon that I had climbed on to avoid walking, my ass still in pain. I had no belongings, apart from some clothes the Queen had given me, which took virtually no space. While the ox cart moved steadily ahead, with some pauses for feeding and rest, I could see everyone else moving around, from the back to the front of the marching line and vice versa. Messengers, cooks, soldiers, blacksmiths and tanners, all people who had things to do while I sat on my ass, too fucked to help even if I could or wanted to.

It occurred to me I had no idea how large this expedition force was, or where we were going. I was meant to write the Queen's memoirs, not be her secretary, but still, these seemed like important details. I guessed the army itself was a few thousand infantry men and women, and a few hundred of riders. But in truth, I had no idea. I also could tell we were heading to the west of Amberstrat, which meant we were either headed towards the sea, or towards the Carved Mountains where the Stone Singers lived. I thought to ask but everyone seemed so busy and I didn't want to be a bother.

In the evening, we made camp, forcing me to get up and use my legs a bit. Tents were set up seemingly instantly, and cooking pots were lit between them, with people forming lines to be served. I got my bowl of stew and withdrew to my tent. Most people in the camp shared a tent with several others, but apparently, as an aide to the Queen, I was granted some privileges. I felt bad, considering I was the least helpful member of this entire expedition, but I didn't protest when a couple of soldiers brought a tin bathtub and filled it with hot water.

I sank myself in, feeling my joints and muscles relax - sitting in the ox cart had been a rather bumpy ride. I closed my eyes, still scarcely believing my fortune. Four days ago I had been sitting in a dungeon, and the only reason I hadn't been sold was that the city was under siege. And now I was apparently an aide to Vandira, the Whore Queen that controlled half the southern part of the continent. A position of respect, perhaps even power. A position with privileges.

I got out of the bathtub, stretching my libs, when a boy, younger than me, barged in the tent. I let out a squeal, trying to cover myself, but I had nothing at hand. Startled, he lowered his eyes and mumbled an apology.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" I shouted, fumbling to get hold of a towel.

"I'm sorry my lady, I didn't mean to...I was sent by the Queen to bring you this," he said, pointing to a letter in his hand, his gaze occasionally rising to catch a glimpse of my body. I didn't think I was much to look at, but he probably had never seen a naked woman before. He left the letter, repeated a half-audible apology and got out in a hurry.

Meanwhile, I had managed to put on a dress. I was upset, but seeing him scurry out, I felt bad. Here I was, privileged for a day, and already terrorising those beneath my post. After a moment's hesitation, I got out to find him and apologise.

Pretty soon I lost sight of him in the crowd of people moving here and there, and I was about to get back to my tent when I noticed him moving towards a thicket that formed the outer edge of the camp. I followed him discreetly, thinking he might be delivering a message to someone important and I shouldn't interfere, but there seemed to be no one in the darkness of the trees. Still I kept some distance - maybe he wanted to take a dump, and interrupting that would be even worse.

When he thought he was far enough from the camp that no one could see him, I saw him drop his pants and grab his cock with one hand, the other resting against a tree trunk. He started stroking it, slowly at first and then faster and faster as his breath got quicker. I remained at a distance that allowed me to remain unseen, but I watched with fascination. I knew he was thinking of me - he must be - and the thought excited me. I didn't think anyone had masturbated thinking about me before.

That wasn't true, I corrected myself with regret. While imprisoned in Amberstrat's dungeon, I had once made the mistake to ask for some salt for the tasteless broth we were served. In response, for the next two days, my meals were cum soup, courtesy of the guards. I had eaten it anyway. I wondered if these fuckers had survived the Queen's assault upon the city. They probably had. They were prison guards, not soldiers, and it's unlikely they would fight, even if they were paid to do so. Scum like that found a way to survive sieges and battles, usually at the expense of other survivors.

The boy moaned loudly and snapped me back to the present, just in time to see him shoot his load into the bushes. I wondered which part of my body he imagined cumming on. I wondered if I should give him the chance to do so for real, but decided against it. He quickly pulled his pants back up and walked back to the camp, and after a few seconds, I did the same.

Back in my tent, I picked up the letter the boy had brought from the Queen. I hoped it wasn't a request to see me, because I didn't think that 'I left to go watch a messenger boy jerk off' was a good excuse for ignoring her.

I opened the envelope and found inside a note and some money. The note said:

"This is your payment for your work so far. Come see me tomorrow after breakfast. Report on the others from Amberstrat."

I counted the money. It was little, but then again, I hadn't worked more than a few hours. As for the rest, I doubted Vandira wanted to narrate her story in the middle of the march. I also thought she could find out how many of the women she liberated from Amberstrat planned on staying without my help, but I did want to find a way to be useful, so that was it.

I slept like a log, but fortunately woke up early enough to have time to do the Queen's errands before breakfast. I walked to the part of the camp where the former slave women stayed and told them I had to report on their decision - would they follow the army, in which case they needed to be assigned work, or leave? I thought they could have been given a few more days to decide, and apparently so did they. A few recognised me, having shared a dungeon with me, and I heard quite a few whispered remarks about how I found myself in Vandira's favour. Many of the commentators lamented, rather audibly, her bad taste, since any of them would have been a much better choice.

In the end, I got a rough estimate - half would stay, the rest would follow some merchant trains whose routes would soon diverge from our own. I left, still feeling some scornful looks aimed at me.

I gulped down some fruit that was distributed and rushed to the royal pavillion. I had no idea what I was supposed to do there, but apparently I was expected and showed in by the guard. Vandira was standing above a table, looking at a map. Around her were a bunch of army officers, among which was Anassa, who acknowledged my presence by an ever so slight nod of the head and curve of the lip, which I was ridiculously happy to see. As everyone was looking serious, I stood a bit apart, waiting to be called.

After a minute, Vandira lifted her head and noticed me.

"Ah, Chronicler, welcome. By the way, I should probably learn your name. What's your name?"

"Sinael, your Grace," I said.

"I'll call you Sin. Seems fitting," she said winking at Anassa, who smirked a bit without losing her thoughtful frown. I sighed.

"Tomorrow we will reach the foot of the mountains, and I will head for a meeting. Since it might have some historic value, you should accompany me to document it."

I nodded. "What meeting will this be?"

"I will meet with the leaders of the Stone Singers and the Gyndroans to negotiate an alliance against the Black Church," she said matter-of-factly.

I almost gasped, though I have to admit not so much at the geopolitical importance of this initiative, as at the thought of meeting Gyndroans. They were supposed to be a strange race: entirely hairless, with both sexes having similar appearance, except one had what we would call female breasts and male genitalia, while the other had (again, what we would call) a male physique and female genitalia. They were rarely seen outside their lands and were rumoured to be more advanced than other races in philosophy, alchemy and even ethics, though a lot of people considered them unnatural - as if they couldn't say the same of us.

I gave the Queen my news about the former slaves and was dismissed, with orders to report to her the next day at dawn.

The rest of that day went by uneventfully. The army was on the move again within the hour, and made good time across the early autumn plains. I mostly walked, though I would occasionally get on the ox wagon to get some semblance of rest. By the evening we had reached the first slopes that indicated the start of the Carved Mountains, realm of the Stone Singers. People said their cities were entirely dug inside the mountain. Some said they hadn't carved them themselves, but had found them this way long ago, legacy of some forgotten people. I did not know. I had not read the treatises of the sages or the Song of the Stone, the bards' epic that told of the great halls in the heart of the mountains.

My sleep was quiet, though I faintly remembered dreaming of a woman's bejeweled hand in a vast hall beckoning me. The details were lost with the morning dew. I shambled to the Queen's tent, and found it buzzing with activity. I was directed to a chair, where I was assaulted by a pair of women with brushes and powders, hell-bent on applying them to my face. At seventeen, it was a habit I hadn't exercised, and at first I protested, but so meekly that they probably didn't even hear me.

A mirror placed in front of my face soon convinced me of my error. After a while my skin seemed less ghastly pale, as if I was healthy; my lips did not look like those of a person lost in the desert without water; my hair, one thing I was once proud of, fell to my shoulders straight and shining black. I looked at my reflection in the glass. A little more of this life and I could even start to consider myself cute.

I was yanked out of the chair and dressed in a shirt and a divided skirt that were apparently more appropriate for the occasion, an austere black with gold embroidery. Someone asked me if I can ride - of course, I said, I grew up a farmer.

Before I knew it, I was on a horse, part of the Queen's retinue, heading towards a ruined tower that would serve as the meeting place. Upon arrival, I tried not to stare at the Gyndroan representatives. Their bulky clothes didn't let me tell their sex. The Singers on the other hand were a stark contrast to the hairless, genderfluid race. Hairy men, most of them with long beards, and loud women, wearing various gems to apparently denote their office.

Vandira apparently knew some of the people there already, as there was a lot of catching up to do.

The meeting itself was recorded by secretaries and scribes better than I could have done. But the gist of it was that the parties agreed that the Church was a threat to the peace and stability of the continent. The Queen was already at war with them of course, but the other two had their own reasons to get rid of it: Gyndroans were decried as an aberration by the sanctimonious priesthood, while the Stone Singers did not appreciate the Church's interference in trade and its efforts to expand its faith to lands under their influence.

Such things were known and long-standing; the catalyst for taking action was apparently that Vandira had managed to get a spy within the Black Citadel, wherefrom the Cardinals issued their decrees. A nun of the Inner Order, whom the Queen had liberated from slavers and who, after spending some time out in the world, had seen the "error of her ways" as Vandira put it. This spy was sending, at great personal risk, intel on the movements of the Church and its Legion, and this information was the detail that could give this prospective alliance the upper hand.

I am sure others can analyse Vandira's political and strategic choices better - her capability and her insight is well attested, as are her many errors. I can only speak to her commanding presence - when she spoke, everyone gave her their full attention, not unlike they did to the Gyndroan Exarch or the Head Stonesmiths of the mountain clans. Exact plans were not drawn at the time - merely an agreement to strike once the opportunity arose.

It was almost evening when we rode back to the camp. The Queen came to ride next to me.

"What did you think of that, Sin?"

"I guess it went well? I am not really the one to ask, your Grace. But I do feel this entire meeting could have been a pigeon message."

"Ha! You don't establish military alliances via pigeons, or you risk everyone learning of them. Nor do you dispel doubts if they can't see how much you believe in the plan. But yes, there is some unnecessary pomp. It is as much part of statecraft as it is of whoring."

She was right, of course. I wondered if there were any behind-the-scenes talks, or sexual escapades. Probably not today, but perhaps earlier, to arrange the meeting itself? I was about to ask when she changed the subject.

"You look healthier than you did a few days ago," she said eyeing me with approval.

"Well, I have been, uh, eating. And you know, your assistants worked to make me presentable," I said, gesturing towards my face.

"Yes, you don't look so scrawny any more. Maybe it's the food. Maybe it's the fucking. Who can tell? I can't even guess your age."

"I actually turned seventeen today," I said without emotion. In most of the realms I would be considered to have entered adulthood already a year prior, though I felt much older. I looked up to the sky at the Heralds, the twin stars that marked the day's end and the coming of night. "Born on the year of the Spider, under the sign of the Thorn. Bad omens all around."

"It's your birthday? You should have told me!" she shouted. "I would have...no matter. I can still get you a gift once we get back. And don't believe that astrology nonsense."

I tried to protest out of modesty, but not much - if she wanted to pay me more, I didn't mind, although I suspected her gift would not be monetary. I didn't mind that either. She was right though; my struggles had been the unfortunate result of poor choices and human malice, while my current situation was just dumb luck. If the Heralds looked from above, they were merely indifferent spectators.

Once we were back at the camp, she invited me along with her captains for a drink. I didn't really take part in their conversations, since it was all moon-talk to me, but I did learn that we would now be returning to the Capital of the Queen's loosely bordered kingdom. She had never mentioned the previous name of her home town, but now it was known as Brothel. Simple. Poignant. After a second glass of whatever I had been served I excused myself and stumbled back to my tent.

Upon entry, I saw five men waiting.

"What is this now?" I asked.

"The Queen's birthday present, if you'll have it," answered one of them.

"I think the Queen is overestimating me if she thinks I can take five of you," I said.

The same man who had spoken smiled. "No, no, the idea was for something more...focused."

I raised an eyebrow in question. He took me by the hand and led me among them. They formed a circle around me.

"Vandira thought you may want to train your oral skills," said another of the men. He had probably started fighting battles before I was born, and had the scars to show for it. Grizzled was the only word to describe him, but I thought he was hot. I wondered if I had drunk more than I should to be fond of such an older guy, but no; he was a very handsome man. And the rest were no less charming, even though wildly different. A young man with pale skin and blond hair falling to his waist - I remember seeing him in the harem tent on my first visit to it; a dark skinned giant; one with a braided beard and golden-coloured eyes; and the one who had first spoken, whose shoulder legth dark hair and fragile demeanour reminded me of a trobadour.

I got the idea. It had been a tiring day, but seeing them look at me hungrily I felt a tingling sensation between my legs. I suddenly realised I was licking my lips, and the men started taking off their clothes. I let them remove my dress and stood standing among them. The pale blond approached and kissed me, while I felt hands grabbing my ass, fondling my cunt and my nipples. I switched to kissing the dark giant and then the grizzled man as various hands caressed my body.

I soon was gently pushed to my knees, surrounded by five cocks. My mouth wrapped around the one directly in front of me, while I grabbed another with my right hand. The owner of a third slapped it on the left side of my face.

I forced myself to keep my eyes open, against my instinct to close them when sucking dick, to enjoy the sight. Five hard cocks focused on me! I had never dreamed of receiving such attention. Someone grabbed me by the hair and pulled my head towards him, holding his cock and directing me to lick his balls. I complied, still stroking someone with one hand while I was fingering myslef with the other.

The back and forth continued for a while, with me moving from trying to fit an enormous black dick in my mouth to actively sucking the next, then to licking the head of a third, while the cocks of those waiting their turn were glistening with precum. A couple of hands and mouths would occasionally assist my own pleasure, pinching and sucking my nipples or sliding in my wet cunt.

I was so absorbed in the experience that the first cumshot took me by surprise - while the cock of the one I thought looked like a trobadour was pushing the inside of my cheek, the grizzled guy approached and delivered his load on the side of my face. I kept sucking though, and almost immediately I felt warm cum filling my mouth. I swallowed some of it, then let the rest drip out as I opened wide out to receive the dark-skinned man's huge shot. Most of it ended up anywhere but my mouth: my forehead, my hair and my neck were sticky by the time he was done.

Dazed, I turned to just in time to get my tits covered with Braidbeard guy's cum, just as I was myself reaching orgasm. The pretty blond boy then grabbed my hair and pulled me close. My tongue danced the tip of his engorged head and he emptied his balls, as I tried to swallow at least some of it.

I tried to catch my breath, and so did the guys.
"Thank the Queen for her gift. That was probably the best birthday I've had," I said. "And not just because the previous ones were mostly awful."

"You can thank her yourself. She requested your presence once we were done," answered one of them.

I rolled my eyes and went to grab a towel.

"No; she wants you to go right now. Like this," said the long-haired blond youth, gesturing at my glazed face and torso.

I didn't know what to say and just stood there.

"It's a request, not an order. But I suggest you do it anyway."

I drew a deep breath, and wrapped myself with a flimsy cloak. I got out and walked towards the Queen's tent. The camp was still buzzing with activity, and I am sure I was noticed by many, walking half-naked and cum-covered. I held my head up high, assuming this was some kind of test.

Fortunately Vandira was alone, although I did have to be let in by a disappointingly unsurprised guard. She looked at my face, walked up to me and dragged a finger across my neck, sweeping up a thick string of cum that she then licked off.

"I'm glad you enjoyed my present," she said simply.

"Why?" I asked.

She looked confused. "That's what one usually expects when giving presents."

"I mean why this? This walk of shame? Why did you want to humiliate me?"

"Ah. You got it wrong, girl. This is a lesson, but on in humility."

I looked at her questioningly, aware of how ridiculous I must look.

"I have high hopes for you. But you need to learn to let go of your inhibitions," she said. "Admittedly, it seems you don't have that many to begin with, but still; I assure you, no one in this camp looked at you mockingly or judged you for walking around with cum on your face. Do you think if I walked through the camp covered in cum, or if I let someone fuck me in plain sight, anyone would judge me?"

"You are the Queen!" I protested. "Of course they wouldn't. Not in your face at least."

"That's not the reason. My people have learned that there is no shame in any of this," she said gesturing vaguely. "In fact, if you take a walk around you will hear moans and screams from half the tents. Nobody cares, Sin. And if they do, they are the weird ones here. That's the lesson - in my realm, we are free of such burdens. And so we form our opinions of others without prejudice. Or at least with one prejudice less."

She removed my cloak.

"Let's see if you understand the lesson." She went and sat on a chair a few metres away. "I want you to masturbate. Here, in front of me, without feeling embarrassed or in awe or anything like that."

"I can't just do that like this!" I protested. "For one thing, I'm not in the mood. I just had an orgasm."

"By the time our business is done, you will consider one orgasm a night a poor tally," she said, getting back up. "Would this help get you in the mood?" she whispered in my ear as she grabbed my hand and laid it on her ass. She was wearing an opaque but very thin robe - I had never before felt silk - which let me feel how smooth her skin was beneath it. Without realising it I found myself squeezing her ass and trying to grind against her.

She took a step back. "See? Go on now." She returned to her chair, sat, and crossed her legs. I could see half a breast beneath the robe, and more importantly, I could see Vandira's hunger reflected in the way she looked at me. It wasn't just an exercise of loyalty or submission, or a lesson. She genuinely wanted to watch me touch myself. My middle finger slid inside me as the Queen stared straight in my eyes, her very gaze wetting my cunt.

She sat perfectly still, not lifting a finger to touch herself, but her eyes took in my little private show, and the tiniest approving lift of her eyebrow brought me closer to climax. I kept masturbating, my free hand pinching my nipples, till at last she leaned forward and asked:

"Are you imagining fucking me, Sin?"

"No, your grace. I am imagining you fucking me."

"You lack ambition. It's often a good quality for members of a royal court, but I like a little risk." She lowered her gaze to between my legs, just as I was orgasming.

"Wonderful. That will be all. I'll send for you tomorrow. You can go get some sleep. Feel free to borrow a cloak if you want."

I decided a display of my willingness to learn was in order, and left the tent naked and messy. It turns out Vandira was right. No one paid me any heed.