In the first quarter of the dawn, when the orange disk of the sun was only half visible, a soldier from the northern contingent of the army came with urgent news. He had been riding all night, because of the urgency of his report. He 

The serpents had attacked the northern security post, appearing from what had been Persian territory. Their envoys to Persia hadn’t returned yet, and they hadn’t the slightest clue whether they would ever return. They had been expecting a pigeon from the envoys, but the pigeon hadn't shown up, and they knew enough to be worried about that. 

The Sultana was pacing the conference room. It was nearly a palm tree long, and half a palm tree wide. There was plenty of room to pace, even though a gigantic central conference table dominated the room. She knew that a solution would have to be found soon, and solutions usually came when you weren’t looking for them. 

She didn’t have the luxury of not looking, however. She was wearing a traditional linen gown that was crimson in color, perhaps in order to reflect her martial thoughts. Her allure was ever-present, and her matronly bosom was straining against the gown. Many in the room quietly followed her movement with their eyes.

Her raven hair was plaited and swung forward, so it fell around the outer periphery of her right breast, and all the way down to her loins. She walked fast, lost in contemplation of what they had just gleaned from a company of messengers.

The sisters were not invading their kingdom. Not yet anyway. They were instead systematically destroying security posts along the circumference of their kingdom. This was just as much cause for concern as a full-scale invasion. It made her think that the sisters had an agreement with someone else who would launch a full-scale invasion once all the security posts had been demolished. 

Why bother with tactics? This was what confused the Sultana. The sisters appeared to be powerful enough that they could batter their way through her entire army, and there would be no opposition to them. Why would they bother with tactics of any sort? Somehow the key to defeating them appeared to lie in this.

The Sultan was sitting at the head of the conference table, with one of his nonagenarian advisers giving him advice on the situation. Whatever they were discussing, their minds were partially shut down, given the horrors that had just been described to them. Unlike the Sultana who simply sieved out the part of the missives received that were most important to strategy, most people in the room were preoccupied with the horror of what they had heard. 

The latest attack at a security post had been particularly brutal. Two thousand soldiers from their army had been wiped out in an encounter with only one of the snake sisters. The messenger, who had actually been at the outpost, and had witnessed the destruction from the distance of hundreds of yards, had reported hundreds of soldiers being swallowed alive by the python woman’s hair.

He had also reported that she had paralyzed a contingent of the army with some sort of venom that made them await their death, while she battled others. She had left them paralyzed thereafter, without allowing access to them for several hours, while they died from the slow acting and painfully excruciating lethality of the venom.

His descriptions didn’t leave out any of the gory, heartrending portions. He described the cries he had heard for hours, while the sister having simply polished off the rest of the post, simply guarded so that nobody could help the paralyzed soldiers. 

As earlier, all the causalities were men. 

The Sultana continued to pace, concentrating, and pausing now and again, as if some important point occurred to her, as she tilted her head from one side to the other. The sisters’ attacks were very logical for an army that wanted to weaken border defenses because they couldn’t challenge a kingdom head on, but not very logical for forces of destruction such as the sisters. Then she shook her head and took her seat again. Something was perplexing her, and it just wouldn’t be solved. 

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Rawer

Rawer didn’t kill them. He didn't kill innocents, regardless of what they heard. In this case, their threat was minimal, so he would let it go. The Hellene had been another matter. His murder was not only necessary to ensure his own safety, it also seemed to be a good thing. There are people who you know are a waste of clean, pure air. 

Rawer instead delivered a message to the princess. He lay down that night, dreaming of her. His lovely Mediha, and her luscious breasts, her long raven tresses, and her inviting receptacle. He ached for her, but knew that tonight he would not get to be with her. 

They had to find a way. Convincing the royal family that they were a match was as hard as ridding the desert of sand. The only other available option seemed to be to flee to Nubia. He didn’t like uprooting the lovely young princess from her people and her land, but he knew she'd understand. 

His playmate Tuya was there for company until then. She was a distant cousin, and she could be trusted within reason. Somehow he felt that he could trust her with his affair’s knowledge. She’d always had a thing for him, and he knew that she wouldn’t allow the secret to leak since he would be executed the moment that happened. 

Tuya sucked his cock tonight, and he enjoyed it, but she wasn’t the princess. He loved only the princess. He didn't ever think of what he did with Tuya as infidelity. He had known hundreds of women, and in all those cases, it had been the pure carnal pleasure, just as it was with Tuya. 

Tuya stood up, and positioned her womanhood over his erect member, as he lay supine. She lowered herself onto it, and gasped.

“Oh Rawer,” she said, sighing, as she worked herself up and down his shaft.

He grunted, and added the motion of his own groin to the action, making the thrust more explosive. After a series of rapid strokes, they both neared climax. Rawer’s balls exploded and he felt the juices from her cunt meeting his own juices. He rose as they climaxed and plunged his cock deeper into her, so that every spurt of his was buried deep within her womb. 

He didn’t mean to make a baby with her, but if it happened, it wouldn’t be the first. He had lost count of how many women he had made pregnant, especially when he had been a mercenary soldier for hire. Tuya buried her face against his chest, and moaned as their mutual orgasm neared its natural conclusion. Then they fell asleep like that, with his shriveled cock inside her satisfied cunt.

With the princess Mediha, Rawer felt he shared the same heart, so it was different from this. He was sure the princess would understand what he did with other women, and accept it. 

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Hypatia

Hypatia went about her business like the businesswoman she was. Today’s client was an Arab trader in his forties, and he had a special request, for which he was paying her twice the amount her rich clients usually paid her for hardcore action.

He wanted something that was very rare in these parts. He wanted her to abuse him, with nasty words, nasty treatment, and to piss on him. She didn’t enjoy the piss part, but it was great money.

He was especially ugly. He was colored like caramel, and had pock marks all over his face, and warts in so many different places that she checked his privates slyly for signs of diseases. There were none of the telltale scabs, rashes or genital defects that would transmit a disease to her. She decided it was worth the risk.

She thought of what Younos had told her earlier. The princess was having a secret affair with a Nubian soldier, and he wanted to use this as leverage somehow. Her first counsel to Younos had been to steer clear of palace politics, especially things that involved secret affairs. He was adamant though, and insisted that this was the opportunity of a lifetime.

She knew that they would both be executed or doing time in the Sultana’s dungeon, if anything went wrong. So she decided that she would steer clear of it, but she would give her brother the best advice she could. Or rather the second best advice she could, since he had ignored the best advice.

“You like that, cur!” she screamed, pressing her foot down on the temple of the trader. 

His cock hardened even more. She slapped his cheek with her foot, and pressed into it.

“Yes, your highness,” he whispered. 

If Younos approached the Sultana about it, she would know that he knew, and knowing how brutal she was when it came to family, Hypatia was sure she would have no family left. In fact, she suspected that the Sultana would have her killed as well, for the crime of being Younos’ sister.

If Younos approached the Nubian, he would probably get himself killed. She knew that Younos knew more about her late husband’s death than he was letting on, and that the Nubian’s affair had somehow played a role in his death. 

She squatted over the trader’s face and squeezed a fart into his nose. She heard him moan as if it were the biggest turn on in the world. She wrinkled her nose in disgust, and rubbed her pubic triangle over his face.

“You piece of filth from the sewers of Egypt,” she yelled, “are you enjoying that!”

She felt him nod against her pussy.

“Lick it, bastard!” she yelled. 

He nodded, and licked her pussy.

It appeared to her that Younos had reached a stalemate in some sense. He couldn’t approach either party without getting killed. Perhaps he could approach the princess, but Hypatia somehow felt that that would lead to his and her instant demise as well. So there were no ways forward.

“Is that how you lick it, shit face!” she yelled, and sat on the trader’s face, hearing him gasp in protest. 

She sighed inwardly. This was how some people spent good dinars. She could finally get the extension to her flower garden built with what she earned today. It was time for the pissing part.

“Drink, you piece of garbage,” she said, slapping the trader’s face with her butt cheeks, and letting go of her bladder.