The rain fell diagonally over the rocky hills, as if the sky wanted to sweep the dust of battle from the world. Under the patter of drops against iron, Lucas—now a frontier general in black scale armor—ordered two military tents of waxed canvas to be raised. The soldiers hammered the stakes quickly; no one wanted their commander's tabard to get wet or the gunpowder rounds to soak. When the last rope was pulled taut, Lucas dismounted from his sorrel, splashed with mud to the knees, and stepped through the entrance of the main pavilion. The scent of tanned leather and resin mingled with that of the fresh rain.
Inside, three twin sisters—Yue, Ying, and Yan—waited on their knees upon a straw pallet, their faces bowed, their black braids falling down their backs like rows of damp silk. Lucas had rescued them from a slave convoy half a year ago; since then, the young women followed him with a devotion bordering on the sacred. When he appeared, they looked up in unison, their slanted eyes shining with a mixture of reverent fear and contained desire. The general unbuckled his brass belt, rested his sword against the center pole, and sat on a supply chest. The sound of the rain on the canvas served as an internal drum; every beat urged him to assert his authority.
"Come," he ordered in a husky voice, barely raising his tone.
The three crawled until they stopped between his legs. On the other side of the awning, Centurion Zhao—a sturdy man of broad shoulders who had survived ten campaigns—entered with a heavy step, saluting with a closed fist against his chest. Lucas returned a nod of his chin. Without further preamble, the general untied the linen breeches that kept his virility bound; his member rose slowly, thick, with a bluish vein tracing the shaft. The twins inhaled in unison; the scent of clean skin and cavalry sweat emanating from him was an intoxicating mixture.
"Zhao must test the soldier's resistance to temptation," Lucas decreed. "You three, serve your army."
Yue, the eldest by a few minutes, was the first to place her trembling hands on the centurion's right thigh. Her lunar paleness contrasted with Zhao's tanned skin, who stifled a grunt of surprise when she slid her fingers to the knot of his groin. Ying, the middle one, knelt behind him, lifted the strap of his breastplate, and caressed the contour of his buttocks, while Yan, the shyest, remained in front of the soldier, her cheek flushed, but her nipples erect under her cotton ruqun dampened by the frost of the rain.
Lucas watched with a straight back and narrowed eyes; his breath grew slower, deeper, as if every fiber of his body were measuring the exact temperature of the desire about to be unleashed. He pressed a hand on Yue's knee, guiding her.
"Open your legs for him. I want to see him learn to discipline his instinct."
The centurion groaned as Yue's knees pushed his thighs outward, revealing the tensioned bulge under the linen fabric. Yan, leaning against his chest, raised her chin and whispered an apology so soft it sounded like a song. Lucas smiled with complicity; there was something powerful in the way the young women's shame transformed into intoxication when they felt his gaze upon them. Zhao, already on the edge of control, pulled at his tunic, revealing a thick member with a swollen head, soaked in the first drop of pre-seminal fluid.
"They are instructed," Lucas murmured. "Now demonstrate your love for the Empire."
Ying was the first to slide between the centurion's legs; she lifted her ruqun to her waist and offered her generous backside: two half-moons of snowy skin that shivered like warm gelatin. Zhao, with a flash of impatience, moistened his cock with saliva and raised it against the young woman's fold. The head brushed the anal entrance, provoking a sharp gasp. Outside, the rain had become a continuous drum; inside, the dominant sound was that of labored breathing and the rustle of yielding fabric.
Lucas leaned forward, pressed a hand to the nape of Ying's neck, and drew her to his mouth. He kissed the corner of her lips with a mixture of sweetness and ferocity, then slid his tongue deeper, savoring the maiden's tremor. His other hand gripped Yue's and led it to Zhao's shaft, ordering her to guide it toward her sister's tight anus. The centurion grunted as the tip forced its way in; the reluctant muscle yielded with a pleasure that made him arch his back.
"Slowly," Lucas warned, without ceasing to bite Ying's earlobe. "I want to hear every moan you wring out of her."
The young woman felt her body open, the burning column of flesh entering and exiting in small thrusts that shook her flesh. Yan, to one side, could not stay still: she reached under her own skirt, removed the crotch cloth, and began to rub her swollen clitoris, her eyes fixed on the general, asking for permission. Lucas nodded with a tilt of his brows: the authorization was a sensual gift more than an order. The girl knelt before him, unbuttoned his linen fly, and let the general's member—hard as a statue's bronze—emerge before her lips. She caressed it with her tongue from the base to the crown, then enveloped it in the moisture of her mouth, savoring the saltiness of his skin.
Zhao, now fully engorged, changed position: he withdrew his cock from Ying's narrow passage, let her turn face up on the mat, and spread her legs at an angle that revealed her wet sex, shining under the dim light of the oil lamps. He penetrated her in a single thrust, drawing a moan that vibrated against the canvas. Ying arched her back, offering her trembling breasts which the centurion caught with both hands, while his hips swung with the hammer-like rhythm of a blacksmith.
Yue positioned herself behind the soldier, brushed his neck with the tips of her nipples, and slid a finger, wet with her own juices, along the groove of his backside. Zhao gasped, overwhelmed by the triple onslaught of sensations: the hot cavity enveloping him from the front, the insinuating caress from behind, and the vision of Lucas sharing his mouth with Yan. The general separated his lips from the young woman's for a moment to speak:
"Turn Ying over, ride her ass. I want to see both holes open."
Obediently, the centurion withdrew his soaked member, helped Ying flip over again, and guided the head toward her anus, now dilated by the foreplay. The second penetration was more fierce: a single thrust that made the mat creak beneath his knees. Ying emitted a muffled cry that turned into a long moan as Zhao began the pumping, each thrust shaking her fleshy buttocks. At the same time, Yue lay face down between the soldier's legs and licked his hanging scrotum, alternating with licks to the space joining Zhao's member with her sister's sex. Yan, without losing her rhythm, opened her mouth wide to receive Lucas's long member down to her throat, enjoying the salty taste that mixed with her own fluids.
Lucas felt the pleasure like an underground current bursting forth. He did not actively touch the women, but his power was in every authorized movement, in every moan his orders elicited. He moved his hand from Yan's neck and used it to stroke Yue's hair, who continued to lick with an eager tongue. Then he softly slapped Ying's buttock, each slap synchronized with the metronome of the rain. Under the sound of the thrusts, he ordered:
"Switch. I want to see Yan in the center."
In an instant, the bodies rearranged like chess pieces under a master's hand. Yan got on all fours, offering her wet vulva to the centurion, who entered with a grunt of victory. Ying positioned herself underneath, face up, to lick her sister's clitoris every time Zhao withdrew. Yue, for her part, sat on Yan's face so that the shyest one's tongue would also savor her own open sex. The smell of sweat, rain, and sex merged into a dense atmosphere that filled the tent.
Lucas, no longer able to contain his ragged breath, knelt behind Yan, pushed the centurion's hip aside for a moment, and thrust his own member into the young woman's already hot and receptive anus. The double penetration drew a thunderous moan from Yan that was lost against the damp fabric. The centurion and the general found a rhythm: when Lucas retreated, Zhao advanced, so that Yan felt suspended between two columns of flesh traversing her simultaneously, her body trembling in a perpetual swaying. The three sisters held onto each other, fingers intertwined, nails drawing moons on skin.
The tension grew until the moans were confused with the exterior pattering. The air vibrated with the electricity of the coming climax. Lucas, with a husky voice, gave the final order:
"Now, celebrate the training. Let pleasure be your victory."
Zhao withdrew his throbbing cock from Yan's vagina and discharged a barrage of semen onto Ying's trembling buttocks, as she offered herself face up. Lucas, for his part, felt Yan's anal contraction and submerged himself to the hilt, releasing his own orgasm in hot waves that filled the young woman. Yue, seeing the milk fall upon her sister, rubbed her clitoris until she reached her own ecstasy, her sharp cry mingling with the roars of the men. Yan collapsed between them, her anal muscles still pulsing around the general's member, her sex dripping onto Ying's face, who opened her mouth to catch every drop with a contained smile.
The storm outside subsided as the last sigh echoed inside the tent. Lucas slowly withdrew his member, watching the white semen escape from Yan's trembling anus. He straightened his clothes, cleaned himself with a silk handkerchief, and stood up with the serenity of one who has just dictated a battle order.
"Well trained," he declared as the three women, still intertwined, looked up at him with eyes bright with adoration. "The army that knows how to enjoy the storm will conquer under any sky."
He leaned down, planted a kiss on each sister's forehead, then turned and stepped out into the light drizzle of the remaining rain. The centurion followed him instantly, already composed, with the pride of one who has fulfilled a mission. Inside the tent, the twins embraced with contained laughter, mixing their sweat, their fluids, and the smell of fresh gunpowder that the humid air allowed to seep through the cracks. Their love for Lucas was unconditional, and that night they had proven it with every moan, with every opening of their bodies, celebrating the training with a happiness that resonated beyond the echo of the storm.