The captives begin their new lives, performing domestic tasks traditionally associated with women in other patriarchal societies. They cook, clean, and serve the soldiers. As part of this enforced servitude, they are expected to adapt to the soldiers’ routines, with any mistakes resulting in punishment.
Chapter 5: "The Layers of Submission"
The camp had settled into a rhythm where the harsh realities of captivity were woven into the daily life. The sun rose, so holy. Illuminating a scene where the lines between duty and desire were blurred beyond recognition.
Daily Life and Degradation
Aldric, once a warrior, was tasked with the meals, his hands that had once wielded swords now stirring pots. They'd touch him under the guise of helping. They watched him, commenting on his form, their hands occasionally straying to his back or waist, the touches a constant reminder of his new status. Mistakes during the daily chores was met with laughter and more invasive touches.
Eadric, reduced from prince to cleaner, scrubbed the floors with a body now bent in submission. They made a sport of walking by, their hands patting or squeezing him, his buttocks. They spoke of him like he was an object of beauty rather than a person, their lewd remarks and pats turning his work into a constant assault.
Finn, with his youthful charm, was assigned to serve the soldiers' personal needs, from fetching water to more intimate services. His delicate features made him a favorite for playful games where soldiers would test how far they could go before he flinched, their hands exploring his body under the guise of helping him with his tasks, the contact always lingering longer than necessary.
Hakon, now seen as the camp's nurse, was responsible for tending to minor injuries and ailments. Soldiers were faking minor injuries just to have him touch them in ways that were both comforting and invasive. His muscular form was often the subject of their crude jests, especially his posterior, which they found particularly appealing.
Sven was turned into an entertainer, his skills now used to barter for favors or to perform for the soldiers' pleasure. His attire, always chosen by the soldiers, was designed to humiliate, emphasizing his body in ways that made him a spectacle of their desires. His interactions were filled with touches that ranged from possessive to lewd, his performances were filled with unwanted caresses, his body objectified, his every move scrutinized for signs of his past arrogance.
Bjorn's strength was harnessed for heavy labor, his muscular Germanic body a spectacle as he worked. The soldiers took great pleasure in commenting on his physique, particularly his rear, which they found humorous. Their hands would help him with his tasks, each touch a mix of brutality and an attempt to break his spirit further.
Leif was the center of attention, his athletic build, particularly his big bottom, becoming a focal point for the soldiers' humor and physical desires. In the kitchens, where he toiled, soldiers would pass by, their hands often lingering on him, making comments about his suitability for other kinds of work. His labor was interspersed with moments where soldiers would make him perform tasks that showcased his physique, their touches both controlling and salacious, turning his daily chores into a source of their amusement and gratification.
Any mistake in their tasks was met with immediate punishment, ranging from physical discipline to more degrading acts. A dropped plate might lead to a public spanking or being made to perform in ways that further humiliated them.
This life of enforced servitude was not just about performing tasks but about breaking their spirits, reshaping them into beings that existed solely for the soldiers' amusement and needs. Even the most mundane and repetitive chores were made a play.
Physical intimacy was not just about control but also about the soldiers' need for pleasure in the absence of women. Each captive was used in ways that mocked their former identities, forcing them into roles that were both physically demanding and degrading. The soldiers' camaraderie was fueled by these interactions, their laughter and shared glances a testament to their unity.
Chapter 5.1 "The Kitchen's Chorus"
Leif was bent over the large iron stove, stirring a pot of meat stew, his muscles tense from the day's labor. The kitchen was filled with the smell of cooking, but it was the sound of laughter and juvenile banter that filled the air.
"Look at that, dudes! Leif's got more meat on his backside than in the whole stew!"
"Bet he could use it as a table for us all. We could have a feast right on his butt!"
"Hey, if you ever get lost, we'll just follow your ass. No need for maps when there is a globe."
"Let's just stick our dicks in that ass, bros."
"Imagine if we used his butt as a drum. It would be so loud."
"We could use it as an anvil. Hammer away all day!"
They all laughed, their voices echoing off the tent walls.
"Look at that ass, boys! I swear, he could crush nuts with it. Imagine the ride!"
"I'd shit into that ass just to feel that tightness!"
"Yeah, he could be the main act at the Ass Festival."
"With that ass, he could become a glory hole."
"Leif, bend over a bit more, I wanna see if my cock can reach the stew from here!"
"It could take a whole fucking battalion."
The soldiers grabbed their bowls.
They didn't stop.
Chapter 5.2: "You clumsy bitch"
In the chaos of the camp kitchen, Aldric's hand slipped, and a plate shattered on the ground. The sound, sharp and accusatory, immediately drawing the soldiers' attention. "You clumsy bitch!" one soldier roared, his face contorted in rage. A circle formed around Aldric before he could even think to apologize.
Before Aldric could react, a fist flew, connecting with his face, the force sending him sprawling. The first blow came from behind, a kick that sent him to his knees, his back arching in pain. Punches and kicks rained down, each one a brutal lesson.
Aldric's lip split, blood trickling down his chin, his eye swelling shut. The pain. The soldiers, their anger still not sated, left him on the ground, together with the broken plate,
"You think you can just break things?" Another soldier spat, grabbing Aldric's hair, pulling his head back. A punch landed squarely on his cheek, the force of it snapping his head to the side, his eye beginning to swell immediately, a black bruise forming.
They didn't stop. Boots and fists came from all sides. A soldier stomped on his hand, the one that had dropped the plate, crushing fingers against the broken shards, blood mingling with the food on the ground.
"You'll learn to be careful, won't you?" another growled, his knee connecting with Aldric's ribs, the crack audible, his breath stolen by the pain. Blood from his split lip and nose painted his face, his eyes barely visible through the swelling and bruises.
The soldiers had made their point.
Clean it.
Chapter 5.3: "See if this one is clean"
Hakon knelt by the river, his hands deep in a pile of the soldiers' laundry. Their stinky underwear, the stench of sweat and days of wear wafting up.
"Smell that, Hakon? That's the perfume of the warrior!" one soldier jeered, tossing a reeky pair at him. Hakon, with reluctance, brought the fabric to his nose.
"Better taste it too, make sure it's clean!" another laughed, and before Hakon could protest, he was stuffing a sock into his mouth, the taste foul, a mix of dirt and salt.
Amidst the laughter, one soldier, with a mischievous glint in his eye, decided to take it further. He removed his boot, then his sock, and with a few quick strokes, ejaculated into it, the warm liquid making the fabric even stickier. "Here, see if this one is clean," he said, handing it to Hakon. "Clean it". Hakon put the cum-filled sock in his mouth, the taste was salty, the soldiers around him erupting into uproarious laughter.
As he continued to wash, soldiers would come up from behind. They'd hump him, their hips thrusting against him, making exaggerated moans. "Look at Hakon, he was granted the best washing technique!" one bellowed, his hands on Hakon's waist.
