"The Journal of Marco Polo" with Paris Berelc and Kathryn Winnick

[Harbinger]

The Journal of Marco Polo Ch. 1
With Paris Berelc, Michelle Keegan, Izzy Flannery, and Katheryn Winnick
By Harbinger
Tags: Historical, M/FF, dirty talk, blowjob
Disclaimer: This story is fantasy and for entertainment only.
A/N: First chapter in a new series. Much more to follow.

Our caravan had been passing through what seemed like endless plains and rolling high-grassed hills for five days, and we saw no end in sight. We had barely even seen signs of other people in our journeys.

It was like a desert of grass, or maybe like being lost at sea. There were no landmarks, no road signs, sometimes wagon cuts in the plains to show where migrant vans had been before. We had only the stars and a map to guide us on our journey from Florence to the Silk Road.

Unfortunately, our map had been blown away by a savage wind storm, kicking up dust and grasses into our eyes, mouths, and noses. We had to stop for the night to recover and check our wares, as well as the beasts of burden that pulled our carts and wagons, and those noble steeds that carried some of us.

"Marco, we did not see the stars last night. There is no way you know in which way we go," Vincetti, a dear companion and fellow trader of mine told me.

"Which way does not matter now. What does matter is that we are currently trespassing in the Khan's lands," I said. "If we are caught before passing over, his patrols are likely to take our goods and kill the majority of us."

Vincetti laughed loudly. "Surely you exaggerate. No good man would kill lost travelers for the sin of being lost."

"No good man, yes, but we speak of the Khan."

Before any more arguments could transpire, another member of our party shouted, "Marco! Against the sky!"

As if the Devil had heard us, a great cloud of dust approached us at a marvelous speed, and many horsemen were Harbinger of it, and certainly the deciding factors of our fate.

"We must fight!" Vincetti called as he wheeled his horse around and drew his sword.

"Do not be a fool, Vincetti," I spat. "To no good would fighting do. It would only see us die without passing word, without giving us a chance to talk our way out of this."

Vincetti huffed and sheathed his sword. "Perhaps you are right. However, if I die this day regardless, I will haunt your cock."

We continued on our way, as if we belonged in this grass sea, like we were not afraid for our lives.

The horsemen quickly cut at angle and headed us off, making it clear that we were their intended targets. I assumed they wanted us to run so that they could cut us down in flight.

We continued until the lead horses were upon us. Using their great number and speed, they encircled our lengthy caravan of many wagons and roughly 200 souls.

One rider rode out from the front of the wall and approached our senior merchant, good Julian of Steinfeld, a town just East of Venice. This rider had a long spear in his hand, a metal capped helmet with a fur band around the forehead, and a formidable chest piece made of layered metal straps. He wore a long cloth wrapped about his face to keep the dust from his mouth.

"You trespass on the Khan's great lands! Tell me why or perish!" he threatened, brandishing his great lance.

"We are merchant's whom became lost in yesterday's dust storm. We mean no insult," Julian tried to explain.

"Where do you go?" the rider asked. Something was off about his voice, but I couldn't place it.

"We go to connect with the Silk Road to sell our wares," he explained.

"But not to the Khan? Are your goods to high of quality for the Great Khan? Or perhaps too poor?" the rider questioned, the head of his lance on Julian's chest.

"All goods are for sale to all bidders," he replied, trying to keep his head.

"And what all is included in goods?" the horseman asked, his eyes straying past us and to some of the women in our group. "It matters little. You will go before the Khan and he shall decide what he keeps and who he keeps."

"Who he keeps?" Julian asked. "He would enslave us, citizens of foreign nations?"

"All nations not under the Khan's grasp simply have not seen his might yet," the rider with what sounded like somewhat of a distorted voice.

With little to no say in the matter, our party was led by this patrol to see the great Khan himself.

---

A few of us were brought to the City of God where the Khan himself resided. We were ordered to keep our heads down until we were told to lift them.

With heads lowered, it was impossible to tell how far we walked once we were in the city, but it felt like a mile. Once at the desired location, the same rider said "lift" and we raised our heads.

As we did, Vincetti, Julian, and myself were kicked in the back of our knees, forced to a subservient position before we could realize we were before three thrones.

Seated upon the grand central throne was a large man with long braided hair and a sizable beard. Upon his lap was not a scepter but a jeweled mace, showcasing his splendor but also strength. This must be the Khan, I thought.

On each side of him were smaller thrones of less grandeur, the one on his right seating a beautiful woman with bronzed skin and long dark hair, a circlet of gold and sapphires atop her head.

On the left throat sat a much younger woman of adorable round face, sensual eyes, and a chest her white dress failed to hide the size of. She wore a silver circlet with red rubies atop her also long and dark hair. The royal family was one of strength, beauty, power and poise. I would hate to be their enemy.

"You have the pleasure of kneeling before the Great Khan of All Grass and Sand. Speak only when he or Queen Keeganus speak to you," the commanding horseman from earlier barked, his voice still distorted.

"Easy, Izriah," the deep voiced Khan said, raising a rough, leathery hand. "These are our guests for now." I did not miss the wolfish grin on his face. "I have a round of questions for you, esteemed traders. A test, if you will. You," he said, pointing a heavy finger at Vincetti. "What is a fish with no eyes?"

Vincetti thought for a moment, his dark brows drawn together. "I would say… blind."

The Khan chuckled. "A fair enough answer, if not the one I would give. Fancy man in the middle," the Khan now pointed to Julian, who wore the best clothes of us, showing his station. "What is best in life?"

Julian closed his eyes and smiled, picturing what he loved most. "The feeling of fine threads, good wine, and a full purse of coin."

"You give too many answers. For that, you will have to undergo a feat of strength of physical skill. If you can beat Izriah in wrestling, I will not take your life."

The eyes of we three "guests" nearly popped in shock. We knew little of this Izriah, except that his presence froze our blood.

"Izriah, prepare to fight. You should, too, merchant," the Khan suggested.

Vincetti and I watched as Izriah removed his helmet, and then began unwrapping the cloth that covered his face. We soon found out that Izriah was no man, but a heart-shaped faced woman with striking dark eyes. She removed her banded steel curass and took off her tunic beneath it, showing sculpted muscles and tattoos on her arm and down her sides, with an ample bosom.

Julian had removed his shirt and got into an uneasy fighting position. The idea of fighting a woman, albeit a very impressive specimen of one, completely took him unaware.

Julian lunged toward the warrioress, and she simply stepped to the side, letting Julian trip on his own feet and crash to the floor. I shook my head and listened to the royal family laugh uproariously at the man. He regained his footing and this time stalked towards the woman who stood about 5'8, Julian's own height.

They locked arms and Izriah easily overpowered him and flung him to the floor, making him arc his back in pain. She kicked him hard in the spine, rolling him over.

Izriah dropped to the floor next to him and interlocked her fingers under his chin and pulled up with all of her considerable might, straining Julian's neck and back. If he did not escape or yield, surely this Mongol would crack his teeth against themselves or dislocate the vertebrae in his neck.

Julian did yield, tapping on her arm over and over until the Khan finally held his hand up, stopping the so-called fight.

"Stranger, you have failed both tests," the Khan bellowed as Julian lay prostrate on the floor, fighting for breath. As the Khan spoke, he was unaware Izriah was squatting over him, her breeches lowered, and urinated on his back, completely humiliating him before all in attendance.

Julian openly sobbed at it all.

"You have shown yourself to be foolish and weak. The world, let alone I, have no use for you. I sentence you to death."

I hung my head and Vincetti rolled his eyes.

"Please great Khan, spare my horrible life! He begged. "What… what if I gave you a soul worth more than mine?"

"Go on…." the massive Khan said with intrigue, leaning forward.

"I will give my daughter to your service. She is young, smart and beautiful. She shall serve your court well."

The Khan laughed aloud again, holding his belly. His wife and daughter both smiled evilly next to him, telling us that Julian had sold his daughter to the master of Hell in his cowardice.

"Very well! You are banished from my land, you shall wander on foot until you are found, or are found dead. I have no wish to see the blood of a worm on in my palace anyway. Izzy, fetch the man's daughter and bring her to me. As for you two," he continued, motioning to us," you shall be bathed, clothed anew, and you will join me for feast. I have spoken."

As if from a shadow, a beautiful Nord woman with sharp features and intelligent, if not completely indifferent eyes, approached us and said, "To your feet, and come with me. I shall bring you to your rooms." With a sword on her hip, a shield in her hand, and her hair in a long, blonde braid, she was not to be disobeyed.

As we rose, I stole a glance at the Khan who was laughing with Izriah, or Izzy, as he called her, laughing at her stunt of urinating on Julian, who had already been sent away to die on his own.

My eyes risked a glance at the woman called Keeganus, and her beauty again struck me. To think this God descended creature was married to the Khan was just… it seemed unfair.

And then on the other side was the vision of his daughter, who I had not learned the name of, but I certainly wished to. She had the most mischievous eyes I had ever seen, and her smile, the way she waved at me just enough for me to see but not to arise the suspicion of others set a small stirring in my loins. If I was to be a guest, or a prisoner, I could survive to see these two again.

I just had to make sure not to be caught stealing glances by the Khan or the beautiful but deadly muscled women around him.

With the unnamed blonde leading us, we passed down seemingly endless hallways and turns that would easily lose a man who did not know the palace, which seemed to be the reason for it. At a certain point, Vincetti was handed off to another guard and I was left alone with the blonde.

"I am called Marco. May I ask your name?" I ventured.

"I am Lagertha, but I am not to hear that name from your mouth," she said shortly.

I see," I said and followed her, noticing her round ass in her suede leather trousers.

She stopped in front of a door and pushed it open, motioning me inside. I followed without hesitation, and my eyes took in a most lavish apartment with furniture, windows, and a sizable round tub.

"Strip and bathe," Lagertha ordered. "You will be cleaned for the Khan."

"Will you be assisting me?" I asked as I she'd my hat and my shirt.

Lagertha laughed. "Do not take me for a slave. I am a warrior, the head of the Khan's personal guard, in fact. I am from Sweden, but I am here of my own will. Izriah was a slave from Persia, but she has earned her freedom and a captaincy by her own merit. We will be respected," she demanded and I nodded.

As I undressed in front of Lagertha, she spoke again and said, "I noticed you and Paris sharing glances. Do not do that. Her father will feed you alive to the dogs if he catches you. Princess Paris is beautiful and seductive, but she will see you lose your head for her own amusement. I have warned you."

For the length of my bath, Lagertha was utterly silent but watched me like I was some great threat.

After I had satisfied Lagertha with the state of my cleanliness, she brought me a long, almost floor-length kaftan and a woven belt, which I clad myself in and then was ordered to rest, but to stay in my room until she came to bring me to dinner.

However, things seemed to have changed because after a short nap, I felt the weight of my large bed shift. I sprung up, but a hand on my chest pushed me back down.

I gasped as I was looking into the smiling eyes of Paris, daughter of the Khan.

"Hello, traveler," she said, running her hand soothingly over my chest where my kaftan had opened. "I am Paris, Princess of this empire. I wanted to properly welcome you to my father's house," she said so innocently, but her hands slowly pulling my garments open bit by bit suggested other motives.

My eyes shot over to Lagertha, who stood in my bedroom doorway.

"Pay no mind to her, friend. I have bought her silence. She shall not tell my father of this," she smiled, my robe-like cover now fully open, my belt having been discarded in my sleep by skilled hands.

"Lagertha told me to stay away from you, that your father would kill me," I said as I tried to ignore the feeling of my cock stiffening.

"She's right. We just need to make sure he doesn't find out," Paris teased, her fingers brushing over my exposed nipples. "Tell me, do you think I'm pretty?" Paris asked with pouting lips.

Princess Paris was more beautiful than when I first saw her. Her hair was slick and wet, her skin still damp, having just come from a bath herself. Her black eye makeup was almost running, seeming to have been applied to early. In her sunset orange evening robe showing off her muscular stomach and black brassiere covering her sizable breasts, I wasn't sure I was actually awake.

"You're an absolute dream, your Highness," I said, giving my honest opinion. "I still wonder if I am yet in a dream, seeing you and Lagertha in these chambers."

"Such well spoken, don't you think?" Paris asked Lagertha over her shoulder.

"A golden tongue indeed, Princess," Lagertha concurred.

"I understand you're the head of my father's guard, but would you be a dear and suck his cock for me? I do wish to see it fully hard," Paris pouted, her hand teasing the hem of my undergarments.

"Your wish is my command, my Lady," Lagertha gave in, bowing low.

The woman approached the bed, laying her shield on the stone floor and undoing her sword belt so that she could comfortably sit on the bed next to Paris.

The royal princess herself undid the ties of my undergarments and pulled them from me, leaving me fully exposed to the pair of gorgeous women.

"I do wish to see our new guest cum, but neither of us can get in trouble if I do not touch you, correct?" Pais teased before blowing a long line of cool air over my hot skin.

"Always the wise and crafty one, my Lady, like Loki himself."

Lagertha brushed her braids over her opposite shoulder, and just before she could lower herself to take my prick in her mouth, Paris looked me in the eyes and let a long trail of spit fall directly on the head of my cock, and Lagertha watched as it ran down.

"I'm still not touching you, am I?" she smiled wryly.

"No, your majesty," I said before gasping again, feeling Lagertha's soft lips wrap around the head of my dick.

"That's my favorite shieldmaiden," Paris praised, watching the blonde heroine slowly work her way down, and then back up my dick. "I've never seen a Nord eat cock, but I've heard rumors," Paris smiled, running her hand through Lagertha's long hair that was almost white.

Lagertha had began a decent rhythm of bobbing, a delicious slurping coming from between her lips and her hand working my balls, getting them wet as well with her running saliva.

"God that feels divine," I admitted, my hands playing with the sheets, not wanting to risk Lagertha's wrath by touching her without permission.

"By any chance, do you know what awaits the daughter of that merchant, the one who sold his own blood to escape death?" Paris asked, still fiddling with Lagertha's hair.

"No, I don't," I answered as I tried not to buck my hips, stopping from sending my cock even further down Lagertha's talented throat, if that was possible.

Paris laughed and shook her head. "She's going to be brought before my mother and father, stripped naked, bathed by my mother's handmaidens while my parents watch. She is going to be dressed in either serving wench attire or in dancer's clothes, depending on how they feel about her body.

"If she is attractive like her father said, she will be laid down in a bed, her arms and legs held down by the handmaidens while my mother checks for a maidenhead. If she has one, she will be a sex slave to either my father, a general, or passed around the palace like a common whore. If she is still a virgin, she will be a dancer to be marveled at until my father finds someone worthy of having her," Paris whispered in my ear.

I shuddered at the idea. I had seen Hailee of Steinfeld, of course, and she was a fierce, independent beauty. I pictured everything Paris had put in my head, especially her gorgeous mother with her hand between Hailee’s legs while she begged them to stop, to let her go. I dreamed of earning the Khan's favor enough to have him gift the girl to me, to have her at my mercy.

With these images in my head, and Lagertha sucking my cock better than any woman ever had, and Paris watching, whispering dirty things she had seen happen in her father's court, I came, blasting my load deep into Lagertha's throat.

The Nord seemed startled at first, bit sucked it down like the hero she was, and came off of my length with a satisfied pop and heavy breathing.

"How does he taste, my pet?" Paris asked, her finger hooked around Lagertha's spit and cum covered chin.

"Worthy of royalty, my Lady. He tastes very good. He is certainly of good stock. I wish you could taste him, if it wouldn't get him killed," she said.

[Retrospec]

Paris Berelc as a sneaky, evil and mischeivous horny princess ? Fuck yeah! Give me more!

[TPG]

Gods how I wish history class was this hot back in school... I would have ended up with a PhD in it. Simply epic!!