Discomfort prickled at the back of the magus’ neck; it was not his cramped posture, it was his instinctive awareness that all was not right, that there were presences in the long seeding grasses that grew near this end of the bridge, presences that were not benign. The lookout must have sensed the same thing for she stood up on tip-toe and gave a command; both of the guards loped onto the bridge, spears at the ready. The air was filled with a high-pitched twanging as a volley of red-feathered arrows whizzed from the grassland. ‘Noooooooo!’ yelled the lookout as a shaft buried itself between her chain-clad black boobs, toppling her from the high tower and over into the chasm. Her scream echoed emptily as she plummeted headlong down into the fierce breakers below. The leading guard shouted to her companion to raise the alarm before she was riddled with four hits, all plunging down into her bare black belly, ripping their barbed heads through her bowels and womb. She slumped forward onto her knees staring in disbelief at the darts of death that were fixed in her flesh, seeing the red blood pouring from her puncture wounds and down her sleek oiled thighs. She pressed her palms flat against her midriff, trying vainly to keep in blood and life, her face contorted in anguish as the barbs bit deep. By the time death took her and left her sprawling on her left side in the middle of the bridge the other Nubian was ringing the brass bell attached to the tower. It only rang out for a short time until she received an arrow in the small of her back that penetrated her kidney. She staggered back from the tower and flipped head over heels backwards, off the cliff edge and straight as a die down to her death in the waves that thundered three hundred feet below.

Now the scene was filled with swarms of running warriors, Nubians and haremguards from the queen’s fortress and a mass of Vicious Vixens from the tall grass. The Vixens had red hair in Mohican-style, a tall crest between shaven scalps. They wore battle bikinis of ginger fox-fur and each swished a fox’s tail, hanging down behind from their waistband. Arrows were now flying in both directions and the haremguards were making good use of their short, curved bows. A leading Vixen gagged as an arrow zipped into her throat, the blood spilling from her orange-glossed lips as she stumbled to sprawl face down on the rough logs, coughing out her young life. But the haremguards were no match for the Vixens: one was run through the left tit with a spear whose butt-end was used to flick another over the edge of the bridge. Arms and gauze-pantied legs flailing, she tumbled over and over screaming her lungs out as she dropped like a stone to her fate. Another haremguard had her red satin bra ripped off by one sword while another lanced into her right tit, splitting her pale globe in two. Screams were hellish in pitch and volume now as a mighty Nubian swung an axe and sent three Vixens to their death, one spread out on the edge of the bridge, arms dangling over, her tripes spilling out, the other two squealing in pure terror as they leaped back into space and the long drop to doom. Her victory was short-lived. As she stepped into the middle of the bridge to block the advance of the Vixen hordes, she took a spear, meant for a charging enemy, between her shoulder blades. The barbed head spurted redly out from between her boobs, steely and slicked with gore. The axe-girl grunted in dismay, a gasp echoed by her lover who had thrown the spear. The weeping warbabe grabbed the tumbling axe-girl and staggered at her dead-weight, slipped on the slick of blood, lost her balance totally and, in the arms of her pierced lovechick toppled over the edge of the bridge. Together they spun round in a swirl of lithe and slinky black limbs and a flash of golden chainmail, then they were lost in the tossing and crashing sea that hissed and roared below.

As the magus watched he realized that this fight was evenly matched. Reinforcements were coming from both sides, the bridge was an ant-heap of warbitches battling for their lives, slipping on the bloody logs and toppling violently over into the terror of space that was the resounding chasm, resounding with the crash of breakers and the howls of falling sluts.

Intent on other things, Karramanneh was oblivious of the battle at her gates. Stripped naked she had manacled the witch to the posts of her own silk-sheeted bed. The bitch looked good in an ice-queen sort of way, and no cow had ever resisted her queenly charms, or her brutal raping force. Wrists and ankles chained in golden handcuffs, legs spread so wide, totally defenceless. The queen strapped on a purple dildo, enormous and hard. ‘Ready, my angel?’ she whispered as she knelt between those long white legs. She bent her face down so that her sensuous cruel lips were poised just above the mauve-glossed mouth of her helpless captive. As she guided the dildo between the girl’s splayed thighs, she let her mouth touch hers, teasing her tongue-tip between the cold mauve lips. Karramanneh jumped back, panic-stricken. Into her mouth had slithered a long black tongue, thin, forked and flickering. Even now as she stared in disbelief at her prisoner it was coiling back between those pale lips. Between her legs the purple dildo swung limp and floppy.

‘Right, bitch! No games with me, cow! Try being gang-raped by the lowest of my slaves and see what games are really like!’

The furious queen’s commands were instantly obeyed. Six naked barbarian men were led in, chained and filthy from their sewer-cleaning work.

‘Freedom, you dogs! Freedom for all who burst her virgin membrane!’

A huge hulk of a man sprang onto the bed, rutting like a stag, his cock huge and hard. He pushed it violently up and in then recoiled with a scream of pure pain, holding his bleeding dick as he staggered off the bed.

‘It’s got teeth! Her fuckin’ twat’s got teeth!’

White with shock the queen dismissed the slaves to be flung from the cliffs: no-one must know of her failure. She circled the bed, eyeing the silent, white-haired girl. With a sudden lunge she felt her up, pulling her finger away with a yelp as it was nipped hard by something that was mouth-like, teeth-filled, hot. This one would not do for the harem at all. She could imagine what would happen. That shiver as she sat on the Rasta’s face…had it been a flicker of pleasure after all? Or disgust? Or the beginnings of this metamorphosis into a Lamia equipped with a working vagina dentata? The queen was intrigued, fascinated, by this …thing…that had fallen into her power. One thing was certain: she would keep her failure quiet by keeping the creature for herself, alone, confined in the depths of the harem, waiting until she could take some strange fetishistic pleasure from her, even use her to maim her prisoners. The thought appealed to her. Adabba, now, was getting too haughty, had declined her own advances only last week…perhaps a night with this lizard-slut would make the black lovely see reason.

As if by telepathic link, Adabba rushed in; war on the bridge, Vixens in their hundreds, the queen must come. Karramanneh slipped into her gold lame thongie and a gold metal breastplate that swept up and around her full tits. Her masked golden helmet left only that cruel mouth to be seen. She took a scimitar and shield and strode off with her captain-general leaving her strange captive, asleep now, manacled to her bed.