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INTRODUCTION

In September, 1938, a team of archeologists from the British Museum left London by ship en route to Northern Mongolia and Manchuria in response to several pottery shards and spear points found by local shepherds. These relics were unidentifiable. That is, they did not belong to any previously known society. The team of ten scientists had two priorities: locate and identify the society that had produced the pottery and weapons, and, just as important, elude the Japanese invaders of Manchuria if their explorations brought them near or into occupied territory. In April, 1939, a large burial mound was located and unearthed in the northeastern Gobi Desert less than ten miles from the Japanese forces. It contained a crudely carved and decorated sarcophagus and a mummified body, a wealth of whole and broken pottery, numerous weapons, and more than thirty sheepskin scrolls containing a series of glyphs unknown to any of the team members.

Narrowly escaping the Japanese invaders the team returned to London with their finds. The trip took more than ten months to complete. However, none of the archeologists were able to decipher the sheepskins so information about the people who created them was veiled in mystery. When World War II ended the famous code breakers at Bletchley Park gave it a shot only to come up empty, too. Over the years many doctoral students at Cambridge and Oxford tried to make sense of the mysterious glyphs but failed. Recently, a joint effort of the British Museum, the University of Chicago, and Cray Laboratories was able to render a crude translation of the sheepskins utilizing Cray’s super computers revealing a society of warriors previously unknown to the civilized world. What follows is an interpretative translation of the scrolls in which I have substituted contemporary terms for symbols that are either archaic or have not been identified, but which make sense given the context of the text. Carbon dating of the relics places the crypt in the seventh century BC.

CHAPTER 1

I am Gar-Nok, warlord of the Kozok, feared by all who know of me. Only the dead do not fear Gar-Nok or the Kozok, scourges of the Gobi and the steppes of Siberia and Manchuria. The Kozok are a fierce warrior race. Children-male and female-are taught to ride and shoot the curved bow from the age of four and must master both by the age of seven or they are exiled from the tribe; very few are ever so treated. We maintain vast herds of horses and other animals but continue to steal from neighboring tribes, most of which are not nearly as warlike as the Kozok. Some even raise horses for us as tribute to avoid the taste of our arrows, swords, and lances.

The Kozok are a typical Mongolian people—short and squat--but muscular and strong, with straight black hair and dark brown eyes. Rarely are the Kozok taller than eight hands (estimated by the investigating team as between 60 and 64 inches, or 150 to 160 cm.) However, I am Gar-Nok, spawn of Mel-Nok, great warrior chieftain of the United Tribes that formed the Kozok and a Russ woman captured in a raid to become the great chieftain’s slave and concubine. Because the Russ are taller and fairer than the Kozok (though not as brave or skilled in warfare) I am taller at more than nine hands (72 inches) and fairer with brown hair and blue eyes. My size has earned me the name of Gar-Nok, or Giant Warrior, in our language. Additionally, my organ is almost twice the size of the typical Kozok at almost one hand in length. It is also thick which I am told will bring my consorts much pleasure.

I am leading a small war party of thirty to a Russ village of almost one hundred. We will attack at dawn after riding all night so our approach will remain a secret. We will attack from the East out of the rising sun as is our custom. We will slay all the men but take the women and children to be our slaves. I am particularly interested in finding a consort. Since the death of my father we have needed an heir. Our scouts tell me there are many young women in this village. Surely, I will find at least one who is suitable to my needs. The village lies in a small valley with a large hill on one side and a stream on the other. There are fields of crops which will help to feed my band. The Russ may be good farmers but they are poor at developing strategic positions. This location is ideal for our attack.

Ever wary of a trap I have had our scouts hidden in the area for more than a week. It is only an hour before dawn when I receive a message from my mother begging for mercy on the village. It is here that she was taken in an unusual night raid and she fears for her kin. Out of respect for her I will try another approach.

An hour after dawn I ride into the village with six of my closest and fiercest warriors and several extra horses. The village leader comes out to meet us. I have learned the language of the Russ from my earliest days at my mother’s knee. “Greetings,” I tell the leader, “I am Gar-Nok, Warlord of the Kozok. I come to bargain with you.”

“Greetings, Gar-Nok. Your name is well known to all the Russ,” he states warily, bowing as he does.

“I come to give you a choice. I need three girls of child-bearing age to serve as my consorts. Bring all such to the square for my selection and I will spare your village. If any are hidden or fail to come forward I will level every hut and burn the entire village. I will kill every man and woman and enslave every male and female child. These are my words—disobey them at your peril.” The leader turned hurriedly to his people and instructed them to bring forward all the young women, holding none back.

“How is it you speak our tongue?” the leader asked.

“My mother is a Russ, a concubine to my father the great Mel-Nok. It is to her that your good fortune is due. Had she not acted on your behalf I would have destroyed your village and taken the women, as well.” The young women and girls lined up as their parents looked on. Some of the women were crying as I rode up. There were thirteen in all. I stopped in front of one asking her, “What is your name? What is your age?”

“Marya, my lord; I am thirteen.” She stood tall with her breasts pressing against the cloth of her bodice, her hips just forming, her legs long and straight. I nodded to my men and they brought a horse forward for her. The next two were not to my liking but the fourth I found intriguing. Her hair was like spun gold, her cheekbones high, her mouth full and sensuous. Physically she was still undeveloped but that was due to her age which I learned was eleven. I selected her and another horse was led forward. The final girl in the line was a true beauty with a womanly body and beautiful face befitting her age of fifteen. I am also fifteen. We rode in a column out of the village back to my disappointed corps of warriors.

We rode all day, avoiding any other settlements. Our band was small and we had obtained what we had come for. We camped briefly at night to rest the animals; the young Russ women huddled together crying until I ordered them to be fed and given water. Then they cried again. It was still dark when we remounted our steeds and continued our journey. We rode hard for three days before we reached our main encampment. I entered my tent and sent for my mother. She entered and knelt before me. She may be my mother but she is still a slave who knows her place. “Rise, Mother,” I ordered her. “I have brought three young women from your Russ village. Please see to them and prepare them for me. I will take the oldest one first. Bring her after the evening meal.”

“Yes, my lord,” she answered. “Thank you for sparing the village. I will prepare the women and I will soothe them for I am sure that they are in great fear of Gar-Nok. I will bathe them and dress the one you have selected appropriately for your impending union. May I suggest you bathe also, my lord. In the dark she might mistake you for your horse.”

“Yes, Mother,” I replied chuckling at the liberties a slave may take when she is also one’s mother. We had camped on a large stream in a wide meadow which provided all our needs for grazing and water, both for drinking and for bathing. Unlike many of our contemporaries the Kozok bathe regularly, both humans and animals—primarily because a surprise attack can be ruined if your enemy can smell you coming. I found a small pool that had been created by an earthen dam, removed my coarse woolens and jumped into the cold water, scrubbing my body with a soap made from animal fats by the Kozok women. .

Mother led the young Russ to me shortly after I had dismissed my lieutenants, all of whom left with smiling faces and ribald comments. I could see her trembling as she entered. “Come here,“ I said gently. She came and knelt as my mother had instructed her. “I am Irina,” she told me. I lifted her, holding her by the waist. “Do as you are instructed and you will have nothing to fear,” I told her leading her to my bed of soft sheepskins. I stood next to her as I began to disrobe her. Her chest was heaving with her heavy breathing. Her breasts stood proud, nipples erect. I cupped them, surprised at their weight. I leaned down to kiss her. I was again surprised when she opened her mouth and pushed her tongue between my lips. It was my first romantic kiss so I was somewhat unsure but it felt wonderful so I responded. After a moment our tongues wrestled between her mouth and mine. I broke the kiss, moving my mouth to her breast. I suckled her, teasing her nipple with my teeth. Irina arched her back in ecstasy, throwing her head back. When she brought it forward she grabbed my head, pulling it up for another passionate kiss as she pushed her groin into my thigh. She threw her arms around my neck as she forced her tongue into my mouth. It was all I could do to remove her remaining clothing. I stepped back to remove my tunic.

Irina gasped at the sight of my member. It stood more than a hand in length and almost the width of three fingers across. “Kneel and kiss it,” I instructed her. She looked at my cock then at me dubiously before slowly kneeling. I placed my hands on my hips as she brought her mouth to the tip. Clear fluid was leaking from my hole and I could see her taste it as she kissed my organ. Looking up she smiled, opened her mouth, and took my organ into it. The entire head disappeared as she licked it clean. It seemed strange but the sensation was incredible, tingling up and down my organ. After a few moments of this I pulled her up and laid her onto the bed. Her naked body was fantastic—her large firm breasts, her narrow waist, her flat belly, her long slender legs, and her triangle of fur where her legs met her torso. I put my hand between those legs, surprised to find it so wet. Irina lay back opening her legs. “Take me, my lord. Fuck me.” I brought my member to her cavern as my father had taught me. Slowly I pushed it into her tunnel. She was wet, hot, and very tight. Fortunately, my father had instructed me carefully in this act, even allowing me to practice with several of his concubines. I pushed until I met resistance then I pulled back and pushed harder. Irina cried out but encouraged me by pushing her hips up to meet me.

Soon we pushed into each other with rapid thrusts. After some time of our mutual movements I felt a churning begin in my abdomen and suddenly I thrust into Irina with even greater force as my sperm poured into her. Never had I produced so much sperm; I pumped six or seven thick streams into her. As I did so Irina’s body shuddered numerous times. Ultimately, we both stopped and lay together silent and sweating in each other’s arms. “Thank you, my lord,” Irina whispered to me. “It was even better than I had been led to believe. Your organ is so large it filled me to the limit. It made me tingle all over. I can’t wait to do it again.”

“Unfortunately, that will have to wait a while. You’ve exhausted me.” I pulled her close, covered us with yak skins and fell asleep. It was still dark when I felt a stirring in my groin. I opened my eyes slowly. Irina lay beside me, her head on one arm, eyes open. Her other arm snaked beneath the yak pelts, her hand stroking my manhood, increasing it in length and girth. Irina smiled, her white teeth reflecting the little light that entered my tent. “I told you I couldn’t wait for the next time, my lord.” Her hand tightened around my organ pumping me. I closed my eyes again, moaning in my ecstasy. Suddenly, Irina moved to straddle my hips. I watched in silence as Irina slowly lowered herself onto me. Her tight cavern enveloped me, squeezing me as I entered her paradise. When she bottomed out she began to rock back and forth squeezing and bending my cock as she did. Her large breasts and hard nipples rubbed against my chest. I reached up to rub them between my fingers as I massaged her soft firm tissue. I met her rocking with my own thrusts, lifting her off the bed in the process.

Again and again we met as I drove my organ deep into her body. I could see her shudder as I neared the end. When I shot my fluid into her that shudder turned into all-out shaking that was only controlled when she grasped my neck with her arms, pulling me into a tight embrace. We laid there for some time, even falling back to sleep as my sperm leaked from her onto my abdomen.

The following sunrise we coupled again, before she moved her head to my organ. Looking into my eyes she cleansed my huge organ with her tongue and lips. It was with regret that I rose from the bed to my duties.

NEXT: Marya
2 comments

anonymous readerReport

2012-01-08 00:23:10
This is what sex stories should be!

RebelmanReport

2012-01-05 10:29:48
I love this concept! Can't wait for more...

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