Suddenly she stopped among a clump of stumps and burrs. Right in front of her Fatima beheld a small pack of men retreating. A tall, richly clad warlord stood in their middle. His helmet was gone. He was broad shouldered with skin an almond brown, as was the fashion at the time he sported a mustache and goatee. He was grunting and cursing as he attempted to hobble along using a broken spear as a crutch. As Fatima watched, the big man stumbled and fell. The small band stopped and surrounded their lord. A strange feeling came over Fatima, as if she was being watched. She turned around, looking about the copse of trees. Nothing. Then, out from the bush, emerged a girl, the likes of which Fatima had never seen before, even among the feral Tartars of her people. She was taller than Fatima by a good foot, her strides were like that of a mountain dog. Her long, braided hair framed an oval face with ludicrously long eyelashes, her disorderly, bushy eyebrow were the sort legends were made of.. They were so tight that in bright light they were transparent especially over my backside which inevitably received several playful slaps and gropes as she dressed me, she loved to finger my anus through the thin lycra. The final touch, a pair of knee length riding boots.So there I was in my tights cock and balls vulnerable and bare chested. Over the coming weeks she used me as she saw fit often getting me to do chores around her house getting me hot and dirty before using me as a sex toy, and if I orgasmed before her she would punish me often slapping my penis and crushing my balls. She was a cruel Mistress but she fulfilled her fantasy and while I was dressed in my uniform she wore just normal clothes often jeans and a T shirt, which added to my sense of humiliation and degradation which is just what she wanted, her favourite act of domination was to get me to clean her living room while she watched me from her sofa, she would insist that I crawled around on the floor like an.
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