Alex, now Khan-Tor, watches as his wives are used like beasts by his warriors. Conan, his right hand, leads the ritual of domination, marking the women as the tribe's property. While the men satisfy themselves, Alex wonders if this is the price of power.
The sun fell like lead upon the arid plain, burning the tanned skin of the nomads as the tribe moved in search of water. Alex, now renamed Khan-Tor by his followers, walked at the front with the upright posture of a born leader. His body, once accustomed to technology and comfort, now bore the scars of tribal battles and a physique sculpted by months of hunting and survival. Around him, the women of the tribe—now also his wives—followed him with looks of devotion, their agile and toned bodies glistening under a thin layer of sweat and dust. Their wide hips swayed with every step, firm thighs brushing against each other, and heavy but pert breasts swung freely under the sun. Conspicuous among them were Lysara, the fiercest, whose dark skin highlighted her initiation ritual marks, and Veyra, with reddish hair and long legs, whose promising smile had already brought down more than one warrior.
The camp was set up at dusk, bison-hide tents arranged in a circle around the central fire. While the men sharpened their spears and shared hunting stories, the women prepared the food, their nimble hands working the raw meat with flint knives. Conan, the second-in-command and Alex's right hand, watched everything from the shadows, his green eyes shining with a lust that went beyond the physical. He was a tall man with broad shoulders and a thick beard, but what truly defined him was his twisted mind, always seeking new ways to corrupt the primitive innocence of the tribe. He approached Alex, his hoarse voice breaking the murmur of the camp.
—"Khan-Tor, the men are muttering. They need to remember their place... and that of their women"— he said, running his tongue over his cracked lips while his gaze rested on the round backsides of Lysara and Veyra, who leaned over to gather firewood, exposing their firm buttocks under their leather skirts.
Alex, though still adapting to the customs of this world, understood the power play. He nodded with a slow gesture, letting Conan take the reins. The subordinate wasted no time. With a guttural cry, he gathered the warriors around the fire, their voices silencing instantly. The women, confused, stopped their tasks, sensing the tension in the air. Conan stood before them, his imposing body casting a long shadow over the dry earth.
—"Listen, dogs of war!— he roared, thumping his chest with his fist. —A true warrior does not only dominate with the spear, but with his seed. Today we will honor our females... by sitting upon them"—.
An awkward silence followed his words. Some warriors exchanged glances, others scratched their beards, confused. But Conan was not a man to repeat orders. With a brusque movement, he grabbed Droga, the youngest of Alex's wives, a girl with golden skin and slender legs but a surprisingly fleshy backside. He pushed her forward, making her fall to her knees in front of the men. Her large, dark eyes shone with a mixture of fear and excitement.
—"Kneel, whores!"— Conan spat, pointing at the rest of the women. —"Show your men the respect they deserve!"—.
One by one, the wives obeyed, their flexible bodies bending their knees onto the dusty earth. Lysara was the last to do so, but not out of submission, but because she enjoyed the game, her lips curling into a mischievous smile as she positioned herself in front of Gorruk, the tribe's most brutal warrior, whose torso was covered in scars from past battles. His member, already semi-erect, was prominent under his wolf-skin loincloth.
Conan did not wait any longer. He stripped off his loincloth with a sharp motion, releasing his thick and veiny cock, which stood erect immediately, dripping a string of pre-cum onto Droga's thigh. The young woman held her breath, feeling the heat of the member against her back as Conan sat on her, his heavy buttocks crushing her backside. The contact was electric. Droga felt how the man's weight pressed her into the ground, her thighs spreading instinctively while Conan's cock slid between her cheeks, seeking entry.
—"Like that!"— Conan grunted, grabbing Droga's hips with rough hands. —"Let every warrior take his place upon his female!"—.
The men needed no further incentive. One by one, they removed their loincloths, releasing hard and dirty members, marked by the day's sweat. Brak, a warrior with broad shoulders and a tangled beard, sat on Veyra, his heavy balls brushing her cunt while his cock settled between her buttocks. The redhead moaned, her fingers sinking into the earth when she felt Brak's thick glans pressing against her anus, not to penetrate her—yet—but to mark territory.
—"Move those asses, bitches!"— Conan barked, beginning to rub against Droga with circular movements, his cock sliding between the young woman's sweaty cheeks. —"Let them feel what it is to be ridden like beasts!"—.
The women obeyed, their hips beginning to move in slow circles, their backsides rubbing against the warriors' hard cocks. Lysara, always the boldest, arched her back, pushing her ass against Gorruk's crotch, feeling how his member, thick as an arm, slid between her buttocks. The warrior grunted, his large hands grabbing her hips with force, his fingers sinking into the firm flesh.
—"Harder, slut!"— Gorruk spat, thrusting his hip forward, making his glans graze Lysara's tight hole. —"Show your Khan-Tor how well you serve his men!"—.
Alex watched everything from the shadows, his own cock throbbing under the leather. Although it had seemed like a humiliation at first, he now saw the power in it: his women, being used, marked, but always returning to him. It was a reminder that, even if the warriors rode them, at the end of the day, they bore his name.
Conan, meanwhile, had taken things a step further. With a grunt, he spat into his hand and slid it between Droga's cheeks, smearing his own semen as lubricant before guiding his cock toward the young woman's soaked cunt. There was no resistance. Droga gasped when she felt the broad head push its way in, her internal walls stretching to accommodate Conan's thickness. The subordinate did not hold back; he pushed hard, burying himself to the hilt in a single brutal movement.
—"Ahhh, yes!"— Droga moaned, her nails scratching the earth as Conan began to pump inside her, his balls hitting her clitoris with every thrust. —"More, master, more!"—.
The example was enough. Brak could not resist any longer. With a grunt, he pushed Veyra forward, making her rest her hands on the ground while he positioned himself behind. Without preamble, he spat into his hand and rubbed his cock against the redhead's cunt before sinking into her, his hips clashing against her buttocks with a wet sound.
—"By the gods, you are tight!"— Brak roared, his fingers digging into Veyra's flesh as he penetrated her with deep and uncontrolled thrusts.
The camp filled with moans and gasps, the smell of sex and sweat permeating the air. The women, now ridden like beasts, moved their hips with desperation, their cunts dripping while the warriors used them without mercy. Lysara, feeling Gorruk reaching his limit, arched her back even more, pushing her ass against him while her fingers sought her own clitoris, rubbing it in fast circles.
—"Come inside me, warrior!"— she screamed, her voice choked by pleasure. —"Fill your bitch with your seed!"—.
Gorruk needed no more. With a roar, he buried himself to the bottom, his cock throbbing as he fired thick spurts of semen inside Lysara. The woman screamed, her body shaking as she felt the heat flooding her, dripping down her thighs when Gorruk withdrew, leaving her cunt open and used.
Conan, panting, pulled his cock out of Droga at the last moment, grabbing it tightly as his orgasm ran through him. Thick spurts of white milk splashed the young woman's back, marking her as property. Droga moaned, feeling the hot liquid slide down her skin, mixing with the sweat.
—"Good"— Conan whispered, running his hand over his still-hard cock, watching as the other warriors continued to fuck the women without stopping. —"Very good..."—.
Alex, hidden in the shadows, felt his own arousal reach its peak. He brought his hand to his crotch, releasing his throbbing member. With slow movements, he began to masturbate, his eyes fixed on the spectacle of flesh and lust before him. Every moan, every thrust, every spurt of semen that fell upon his wives brought him closer to the edge. When he finally came, his seed gushed in thick spasms, splashing the ground as a sigh of satisfaction escaped his lips.
Night had fallen completely, but the ritual was just beginning. Conan smiled, knowing this was only the start. Tomorrow, the warriors would ask for more. And he would make sure they had it.