Book 1: Chapter 2 - Herme  

Posted by Bobbi in ,


The Mioya Chronicles - Book One
Chapter Two - Herme


Herme was born in a small village only a short distance away from the capital of Mioya in the third year of the decade of the moon. Although the old Gods had fallen and had been replaced by the new Gods, the clergy had kept the old calendar system.  The decade of the moon came once every three centuries, and it was said that at night, strange things could be seen during the phases of the moon. It was said that Herme was born on a new moon night, and children born at such times were believed to possess dark powers that complemented the darkness in their minds and souls.

Her father, Daram Syburi had served under Count Dreurn in the battles, and just prior to his retirement had been elevated to the Count’s personal guard. With the Count growing older and peace settling on the land, the Count had resorted to diplomacy rather than force to gain prominence at the Court of Mioya. He no longer needed a large standing army, and Daram had been pensioned off, and made a small landlord in the village where he married and sired Herme.

Herme was treated as an ordinary child, as her parents, devout followers of the new Gods, did not believe in the stories revolving around Herme’s period of birth. Much to her mother’s despair, Herme did not grow into a feminine creature who desired only to marry and keep house for her family, as was the accepted life of the female sex. Instead, she wanted to learn archery and swordsmanship, and riding along with the boys of the village. At first, the Academy was reluctant to admit her, and her father with all his importance could not influence them otherwise. Rather than giving up, Herme convinced Daram to teach her so she could challenge the best students at the Academy and prove her worthiness to study there. It was only a matter of time after she was accepted that her teachers could teach her no more.

Herme realized at a young age that she could exercise some control over the minds of others, especially weak minds. One day, when she was bathing in the river, a group of boys, the village bullies, happened to come across her.  Hearing a whistle, Herme turned and looked at the bank.

Herme gasped, and sank into the water up to her neck, in an attempt to preserve her modesty and keep her naked body hidden. But the water was clear, and the boys got a good look at her, encouraging them even more in their teasing.

One of the boys picked up her clothes which lay on the bank, and grinning at her said, “Come and get it, darling!”

Herme’s eyes flashed angrily as she glared at the boy who held her undergarments, and said, “Leave me alone, or you will regret it.”

That only seemed to encourage the bullies more. They laughed and whistled, and the leader looked at her, a smirk on his face and said, “Ooh, she’s got a nasty bark… Does she have a bite?” The other boys laughed louder at this.

“Do you know who my father is?” Herme asked them.

“Oh yes. But do you know who MY father is?” the boy replied. The boy was the son of the village squire, the largest landowner in the village. Herme’s father was an important man in the village, but she realized that he could do nothing against the squire.



The hungrily devoured her naked body with their eyes and mocked her and teased her, and demanded kisses from her. Herme was too proud to give in to their lewd demands, and yet, she knew that if she resisted they were too many, and she was one, and that they would have what they wanted by force, and she could do nothing to stop them.

A calm, steely anger settled in her eyes, and she looked the leader in his eyes, unflinching, and somehow, without know what she was doing, she reached out with her mind, and put the thought that her six, big, strong brothers, who were in the army were hunting nearby. Scared by the thought of being caught by them, the bullies fled. She was the only child of her parents.

Later that evening Herme sat by herself trying to understand what she had done and how she did it, but to no avail. She knew she had put the thought in their minds – she could remember reaching out and looking into their thoughts. But try as she might, she could not understand how to repeat it if she desired.

There was one dark gift of the moon that Herme discovered only on hitting puberty. Two nights in every lunar cycle, under the full moon and in the darkness of the new moon, she would sprout a large phallus and be consumed by an insatiable libido. Her lust at those times would drive her to the point of insanity, and no amount of masturbation could satisfy her. She craved those nights for the incredible pleasure they brought, and feared them, for the desire to fuck that accompanied it made her crazy. She feared that one day she might be driven out of her mind with lust and might rape the first person she came across.

One day, when she was nearly of age, a carriage pulled into the village. A richly dressed woman stepped out of it, attended to by maids in waiting, footmen, and escorting soldiers. It was evident that she was wealthy, of importance and had come from the capital of Mioya.

That evening, the squire hosted a celebration in honor of the lady’s visit for the entire village. The whole village had gathered for the merriment, except for Herme. It was the night of the full moon, and she had locked herself away and would not come out of her room, no matter what her parents said to cajole her. The squire led the lady around pompously, introducing her to the village gentry, among whom were also Daram Syburi and wife.

“Did you not have a daughter? She is not here.” The lady enquired of them.

“She is unwell. She seems to have caught something at dusk.  She worries us so.” Herme’s mother replied, embarrassed.

“Take me to her. I know some things about ailments and herbs.” The woman commanded them, not taking no for an answer.

Once at home, they stood outside Herme’s bedroom and knocked on her door, pleading with her to open it.

“Open it dear, please. You have a visitor. A lady from the city wants to see you darling. She can help you!” Herme’s mother beseeched her.

“Go away, please!” Herme said through the thick oak door.

“Please, leave us, I wish to talk to her. Perhaps she will open up to me,” the lady told Herme’s parents, dismissing them. “And please, do not disturb us, no matter what you hear.”

“Open the door, precious girl. I think I know what the problem is. Your mother tells me it happens to you twice every fortnight, like clockwork, always after dusk.”

“You… you know?” The door opened a crack, and before Herme could slam it shut again, the lady was in her room.

“Now, now. Don’t be afraid. I think I can help you.” The lady studied Herme carefully, and Herme clenched her fists, and squeezed her eyes shut, trying to control her libido. “Look at me dear.”

Herme slowly opened her eyes, and saw the lady begin to undress slowly. She twisted about and unhooked her dress from behind, and let it hang down at her belt. He creamy, white, perfectly shaped breasts stared invitingly at Herme. Herme squeezed her eyes shut again and said, “Go away! You’re the devil’s temptress! Leave me!”

The lady laughed, her laughter tinkling musically in the room. “Perhaps I am, Herme. But I can help you.” She took two paces forward, coming close to Herme, and taking Herme’s hand, guided it to her breast.

Herme gasped at the lady’s forwardness, and at her uncontrollable desire to throw the lady on the bed and fuck her till she could no longer get her cock hard. She opened her eyes and found herself looking into the eyes of the lady.

“My name is Ahyra,” she whispered to Herme. As Herme looked into her eyes, she found herself able to think coherently again. “Come baby, drink mama Ahyra’s milk,” saying this, Ahyra guided Herme’s head so that her mouth touched her nipples.

Herme surrendered, and took a tentative suckle at Ahyra’s teats, and immediately felt a cool, sweet liquid rush into her mouth. She began to suck harder, like a hungry calf, and with every drop of milk she consumed, found herself calming more and more. She realized that desire still flowed strongly through her veins,  but now she was able to control it.

A few minutes later, when she had drunk her fill, she took her mouth away from Ahyra’s bosom, and looked up at her, suddenly ashamed of her abandon. Ahyra smiled at her and stepping back, unclasped her belt, letting her dress fall to the floor. She stood in her nakedness for a moment, letting Herme admire her body, and then went and lay on Herme’s bed, resting her head on the pillows, one leg resting on the bed another bent at the knee, vertical, tilted so that it covered her mound teasingly. She crooked her index finger, beckoning to Herme and said, “Come, my precious, show me what troubles you.”

Herme did not need to be told twice. She nearly tore off her gown and her shift, and revealed her raging phallus. The sheer size of it made Ahyra gasp. It stood erect, pointing heavenwards, magnificent in its 9” length, and 2” diameter, a pearly drop collecting at the tip of the head.

She almost leapt on the bed and without ceremony, parted Ahyra’s legs and thrust deep into her. She began to piston in and out of Ahyra, and before she knew it, came, spurting what seemed to be gallons of cum into Ahyra’s pussy. Ahyra was taken by surprise. She smiled at Herme and kissed her forehead as Herme collapsed in a tired heap beside her.

“You have much to learn about pleasing women, my dear. But I will teach you.” She put a finger to her vaginal lips and collected some of Herme’s cum. She raised to her nose and sniffed it delicately before putting her finger in her mouth and tasting it.

“Hmm… this is very unusual… It seems as if… your cum may have magical properties…” She turned to Herme, to find her snoring softly in bed, exhausted by her first time with a woman.

Ahyra gathered the rest of the cum from her pussy and swallowed it, to test the effects of the magical juices first hand, before going to sleep herself.

The next day, Ahyra and Herme came down for breakfast, to find that Herme’s parents had not slept. They looked at Ahyra and Herme with curiosity and outrage mixed in their eyes. They had heard loud orgasmic sounds coming from above, and knew not what to think.

“I am taking Herme to the city with me. I need an apprentice and Herme will do quite nicely. And I think Herme needs help with her ailment. It will take time, years even perhaps,” Ahyra smiled a deliciously wicked smile as she thought of all the lovemaking that Herme’s ‘cure’ would involve, once she had taught Herme the art of lovemaking.

“What do you do my Lady? What do you need an apprentice for?” Daram asked.

“I train servants for the nobility and the rich, Sir. They are most particular about their servants, and specific in their needs. I see that their servants are ready for such service, and do not disappoint. Herme will learn my trade. I think she has what it takes.” She beckoned to a footman who brought a small pouch of coins, which she handed to Daram. “That is her apprenticeship fee. Do not worry sir and madam, I will care for her as if she were my own. She is… special.”

Saying this, she led Herme out to the waiting carriage, and bundled the dumbstruck Herme in, and took her away from the village to train her to be her heir, as a slavemaker in the city.

The Mioya Chronicles: A background  

Posted by Bobbi in

The Mioya Chronicles is based on an adult game, Slave Maker 3, where you train slaves in the fantasy kingdom of Mioya. You are contracted by the owner to train a girl to become an ideal slave within a specific time frame. While she must be trained in aspects of etiquette, performing arts, household duties and religion, sexual training is a major part of the game.  More exotic options in the game allow you to train her to become a catgirl, dickgirl, ponygirl and/or lesbian as per the needs (or perceived needs of the owner). More extreme elements of the game include bondage, tentacles and rape.

For more about the game: 
Developer site: http://slavemaker3.blogspot.com
Wiki: http://www.otakubell.com/smw/index.php/Main_Page
Download Links: http://slavemaker.futanaripalace.com/

Book 1: Chapter 1 - Enslaved  

Posted by Bobbi in ,


The Mioya Chronicles - Book One
Chapter One - Enslaved

Jarn was born in a small village on the border between the kingdoms of Gaya and Krushka. When his parents were children, it was a dangerous village to live in, with the kingdoms at constant war with each other. But the princess of Gaya had married the King of Krushka some years ago, and peace prevailed in the region now. His village was a small village, with about a hundred inhabitants. Most of its people were farmers, who grew crops of wheat and vegetables, trading in the market town that was two days away by pony. Jarn's father had died in the war between the kingdoms when he was very young, and his mother had joined him some years ago, when she died giving birth to his youngest sister. His oldest sister had married Drago when she died, and the two of them had brought up Jarn and his two younger sisters.


Drago had a small farm, bounded on one side by the forest, and the river on another side. He grew herbs and spices on the farm, which were in great demand with the sorcerers and the alchemists, and while it didn't make him rich, it ensured that they weren't poor either. Drago looked after Jarn like a younger brother. He tried to teach Jarn to hunt and how to live in the forest. He said that if you knew what to look for, you could live like a king in the forest, hunting for meat, and using various roots and herbs to add taste to the food, and make medicines and potions.

He tried to get Jarn to help about the farm too, but no matter how well Jarn ate, and how much he tried heavy work, he wasn't strong enough. Jarn would look at himself in the river, and see a frail, delicate young man, recently come of age, but who looked years younger than he was. His delicate facial features were almost feminine, and his slender arms wouldn't grow strong and muscled, no matter what he tried. The embarrassment of not being able to hitch horses even made him want to cry sometimes. His family never mentioned anything about it, but it still hurt him a lot. He wished he could grow strong, like Drago, and then maybe woo the butcher's daughter, who seemed to be in love with the blacksmith's son.

Jarn often went into the woods, to sit and think. He liked the quiet, soft shade of the forest. Often, he would go in the morning and return a couple of days later, wandering about the forest, exploring sometimes, and sometimes playing make believe games of being the escort to a princess, fighting off bandits. He was playing a game like that one fateful morning, when he came across a three men huddled around a fire. They were an unshaven, rough looking lot, who looked like they had been travelling hard for some days. They seemed to be resting, and letting their horses graze before they continued along their way. Jarn tiptoed around their camp and saw six big horses tethered slightly away from the camp. There were large packs tied to each of the saddles, and all but one horse had something unusual tied across its saddle. It looked like a sack thrown over a human body and tied near the waist, and then tied across the saddle so it wouldn't fall off. He tried to move closer to get a better look, when he heard a twig snap behind him. He whirled around to see one of the bearded men advancing towards him, with a wicked look in his eye.

"Arrr... What have we 'ere eh?" the man snarled at him. Jarn backed away a couple of steps, and then, his heart thudding violently, turned and tried to run into the depths of the forest. He had taken maybe five steps when a strong pair of hands caught him and roughly threw him to the ground.

"Snoopin' around, are ye?" the first man asked. Getting no reply he nodded to the other man who had caught Jarn. Jarn was quickly tied, with his wrists at his back, and at his ankles so he couldn't run. A large dirty handkerchief was stuffed in his mouth and tied in place with a bit of rope so he couldn't scream, and he was left lying on the ground while the three men discussed his future.

"What are we to do with the boy?" the leader asked.

"Let 'im lie here." one said.

"We could let him go..." the third man suggested.

"No. He would give us away, and then soldiers from both kingdoms would come looking for us." That confirmed that these men were fugitives, up to something illegal.

"I say we take him with us. That way we fill our last saddle too." the leader suggested.

"Look at him. He won't fetch us two gold bits!" the second man protested.

"Aye, that may be. But that will solve our problem, and whatever he fetches, it will be better than naught."

That being decided, the men put a sack over Jarn's head and after tying it at his waist, put him across the only empty saddle, securing him there so that he wouldn't fall off. Sometime later they rode off, leading their train of horses that were carrying what Jarn now knew to be human cargo, bound for some slave market.

They rode for many days, only untying their prisoners for meals twice a day, and even then one at a time, so that they couldn't run away. Jarn did not know who the others were, he could not see them, but he could make out from the sounds they made that most of them were women. One other, he thought was a man, but he could not be sure. Finally, they rode into a town, where from the sounds Jarn could hear, the bandits were being cheered, like heroes returning from a battle. A short ride later, they were taken off their saddles, and carried into a dungeon cell, and untied. For the first time, Jarn got a proper look at his fellow captives.

There was one man who looked like a scholar, he wore thick glasses, and his hands were delicate, like a surgeon’s. The other four captives were girls. They were not beautiful, but they, as well as Jarn knew, that they would fetch a good price at any of the brothels in the continent. All the captives looked gloomily at the door, too concerned with their own bleak futures to talk.

Jarn huddled in the straw in a corner of the room and began to cry silently. The straw smelled of urine, and there were rat droppings all over the floor. He curled up in the straw and tried to sleep; hoping that when he woke up it would all have been a bad dream.

Suddenly the door opened loudly, and he opened his eyes to find a large man standing in the doorway. He had never seen him before. The man had a neatly trimmed beard, and was wearing a cap of some kind, embroidered delicately in rich colors. Several thick gold chains hung at his neck, and many jeweled rings adorned his fat, stubby fingers. The man’s vest was partially open, giving Jarn a glimpse at his hairy, muscled chest. A wide belt of fine leather with an expensive looking gold buckle held his trousers up, and his boots too were made of the finest buffalo skin.

“Get up! And get cleaned, all of you!” The man barked at them. “I don’t want to see tears, or dirty faces, understand!” He cracked his whip, threateningly, and the slender, learned looking captive shuddered at the implied punishment.

The six captives got up and filed out behind the man, down the corridor into a larger room at the end. The room was brighter, with sunlight streaming in from the large windows set high in the walls. Water flowed out of a pipe into a basin in one side of the room. More guards stood around the room. They were big burly men with rippling muscles and swords hanging at the sashes around their waists. Slave girls stood by the basin, waiting to assist the captives. They were simply dressed in cotton robes, and their hair was braided and tied.

“Strip!” the rich man, who appeared to be the owner of this slave market commanded. Silently, all the captives obeyed. Jarn was a little slow, shy about exposing himself in front of everyone. He had never been naked before anyone else before, and he was uncertain about undressing in front of women. One of the guards noticed his reluctance. With a quick stride he reached Jarn, and dealt him a sharp cuff across his face.

Jarn felt his face flush, and his cheek began to sting. The blow was not meant to hurt, as much as remind him to obey quickly without question. He hurried and soon, he was standing exposed along with the others. They were quickly washed clean by the slave girls and lined up for inspection. One of the women began to sob silently at her humiliation, and it became evident that she came from a protected household. The owner strode up and down the lineup, looking very critically at his merchandise.

He stopped in front of the man, who stood at the very end of the line, and nodded approvingly at the man. He could see that the scholarly man was well endowed and would no doubt fetch a good price simply for his penis. There were many noblewomen whose husbands had too many wives and too little time to satisfy them. They would pay well for him.

“What can you do?” The owner barked.

“I can sing and play the lute.” The man answered.

The owner slapped the man full on the face. “You will be respectful when you speak. You will address everyone as Sir, or Madam, or Sire, or my Lord, or my Lady. Understand!”

“Yes, Sir,” the man mumbled.

The man moved to the woman standing beside the man. “I can cook, and sew Sir.” The man nodded approvingly. She would probably get sold to a household. There were rich folk who were always looking for a slave who could do household chores, apart from any other services their Owners required of them. The next woman could also sew, cook and clean. There was a singer also among the man’s latest merchandise.

Finally, the owner came to Jarn. He looked at Jarn’s penis, which was just over two inches, hanging limply between his legs. Jarn’s build was very slight and frail, and the man knew he wouldn’t be any good for any hard labor either. “Are you good for anything?” the man asked Jarn.

Jarn mumbled something indicating that he didn’t know. The man lost interest and continued inspecting the remaining slaves, realizing that he would probably be lucky if anyone bought Jarn. Soon, the slave girls dressed the women in simple cotton dresses that could be easily removed if any buyers wanted to inspect their bodies. The men were given a loincloth to wear. Once they were dressed, all the slaves were cuffed at the ankles with a short chain connecting them, so that they couldn’t run.

One by one they were led out onto the raised platform where they were exhibited for some time. A good sized crowd of maybe fifty people or so had gathered for the auction. After some time had passed, and everyone had got a good a look at the wares for sale that day, the auctioneer started the proceedings.

“Our first item! Young man, about 30 years of age. Very virile, very well hung! Ladies! He is sure to keep you satisfied! Gentlemen! A perfect gift to keep your wives happy! And he can play the lute to entertain too! Starting at ten gold pieces!” He worked his pitch, and finally the man was sold off to a man with gold teeth and a big belly; he had four young wives as a part of his entourage.

The girls who could cook, clean and sew were sold next. They were bought as a pair by a minor noble for housekeeping duties for a little over fifty gold pieces. The young woman who could dance was sold to a brothel for her singing and dancing skills. The pimp knew that with her skills, she would be a hit, and if she couldn’t screw well, she would learn in no time.

Finally, it was Jarn’s turn on the block. “A young lad, recently come of age. You can train him to do any chores you like. And if you don’t want him for work, you can keep him to entertain you. He is a quick learner! One gold piece?” the man asked the crowd. Nobody seemed interested. Jarn did have any skills that made him a useful servant. He was too weak to be used as a slave for hard labor. He was too fragile looking to be handsome and his penis wasn’t big enough to interest the ladies.

Just when the auctioneer was about to give up on Jarn, and was muttering about feeding him to the wild animals in the arena, a voice rang out. “I’ll take him for two silver pieces”. The auctioneer slammed his hammer and said “Sold!” afraid that the offer may not last.

The owners came up to the platform to take charge of their new property, and Jarn got his first glimpse of his new owner. She was a strikingly beautiful woman, tall at nearly six and a half feet, with a strength that seemed to be more from within. Her thick, long black hair flowed down her shoulders and ended at her lower back. Her ample bosom was barely constrained in a tight leather corset, and she wore leather riding trousers with knee high boots. She gathered her cape around her and held her hand out to Jarn.

“Come. What are you called?”

“Jarn Miss.”

“Good boy, Jarn. I am Herme. Come, we will go home. You must be hungry, and cold.” She handed him a rough sackcloth robe that she bought from an urchin for a copper. “Wear this till we are at home.”

With those words, Herme led her newest slave Jarn to her house, and into a new life.