BRENHYA [7]
By “HECK”

Brenhya is growing up, developing into a lovely young woman. She is a 
warrior-in-training, and we see some of that, and she loses her virginity. 
Who said “about time”?
Comments to heck@euphony.net

CHAPTER SEVEN

  The Sisterhood of Themyra was an ancient Order, decreed millennia ago when an 
ordinary young woman of peasant stock received a vision of the Goddess. She was 
shown the tall, flat topped mountain and, somehow, knew that she was to create a 
refuge there, a refuge for girls forced by desire or circumstance away from hearth 
and home, who had a true need. 
  ‘Henceforward’, the Goddess had told her, ‘thou wilt bear the name “Serenity”, as 
will all those who come after thee. Thou wilt conduct thyself in a manner which 
reflects thy name, and offer succour to girls and young women who hath need of it. 
Thou shalt admit only those in genuine need, and who show determination and 
strength of character. Those of less than honest heart thou shalt not admit. No one 
shall be set above another. Thou shalt instruct them in the ways of strength and 
wisdom, and send them hence into the world, so that they may’st spread my word 
as seed borne upon the wind. All this wilt thou do, and I will give thee the 
wherewithal to accomplish it’.
  Legend had it that, before Serenity’s dreaming eyes, the mountain top 
metamorphosed into the Hall, complete at one stroke, and when she set out to find 
it, it was there waiting for her, just as she had been told.
  Over the centuries, the three castes had developed through need and a natural 
evolutionary process, and the fixtures and fittings including, and in particular, the 
Temple, had been added. But the Hall remained largely as first built. The original 
Sisters were all Priests, but soon came to realise that they could not spend all their 
time in devotion. They needed women to prepare food, and so the Servitors arose. 
These were cooks, cleaners, and artisans who looked after the needs of the Priests 
and crafted goods to be traded in what was then a tribal settlement, later to become 
the bustling town of Brandwick. And by serving the Priests, the Servitors also 
served Themyra.
  With the passage of the years, the word went out that there was an unprotected 
community of women living atop a mountain. To the barbarians living at that time, 
this was an open invitation to rape and pillage. There was a staircase then, spiralling 
around the columnar mountain, and the barbarians put it to their own use, 
committing various deviant acts upon the vulnerable women. The then Sister 
Serenity prayed to Themyra long and hard, and after the third such attack the 
women found that the staircase had gone. The artisans among the Servitors devised 
a system of pulleys and levers, whereby a large basket could be lowered and raised, 
so giving access to the sisters but precluding unwanted visitors  but the Order 
recognised the need for more active protection. This gave rise to the Warrior caste 
who, in protecting the Priests and Servitors, also served Themyra.
  The most renowned Warrior had been Gloire, a mountainous woman who lived 
about two hundred years ago, said to be over seven feet tall, who owned a bow so 
powerful that no man could draw it. It was said that her upper arms were so vast 
that no-one could encircle them with both hands, her legs so powerful that she 
could crush a man’s head to pulp between her thighs, and that once, on a visit to the 
settlement, she had beaten ten men in a tug of war contest.
  All of this was anecdotal evidence, of course, but the great bow still hung in a 
glass case in the armoury.

  The current Sister Serenity, the two hundred and seventy first to bear the name, 
stood at her table in the refectory. As custom dictated, she was leading a brief 
prayer ritual before breakfast, giving thanks to Themyra for life, health, strength 
and happiness in a strong, clear voice. All the Sisterhood, Priests, Warriors, 
Servitors and acolytes alike, sat with heads bowed and hands clasped.
  As yet unaware of the correct responses, on her second morning Brenhya sat in 
silence, but with head and hands mimicking the attitude of her contemporaries. She 
did not see Drucia glaring at her with contempt.
  After breakfast, Brenhya made her way up three flights of stairs to a corridor and 
stood outside a heavy door carved with scenes of strong women in combat, where 
she had been told to wait. It was not long before the door was opened by a compact, 
muscular woman in Warrior’s garb of hard leather shoulder armour, short leather 
skirt, and deep red cloak, who beckoned Brenhya to enter.
  What was obviously a military office was furnished with practical and functional 
pieces. Multicoloured maps adorned the walls. A big, plain table stood centrally 
and behind it, wearing to Brenhya’s eye clothing that was no different from that of 
the other woman, sat a tall, lean, wiry woman of about fifty, with short cropped 
white hair and an undeniable air of authority, writing on a parchment with a reed 
pen. She did not look up as the escort led Brenhya to the desk and stood in front of 
her. The girl could just see over the top of her head. She opened her mouth to 
speak, but the seated woman held up a hand in an attitude that told them to wait.
  Finishing her writing, the woman lifted her head and looked at the arrivals 
expectantly.
  ‘Captain’, the soldier began formally. ‘This is Brenhya. She has been inducted 
into our caste, and has reported this morning for assessment’.
  The captain stood up. She was a full head taller than Brenhya. She walked around 
the desk, looking the recruit up and down thoughtfully.
  ‘Yes’, she said, picking up a sheet of parchment from her desk and reading from 
it. ‘Brenhya. Arrived night before last. Ten years old. No parents. That’s all we 
know about you. And that’s all we want to know about you. You past is your own, 
and it’s for you to deal with. Is that clear?’
  ‘Yes’, Brenhya answered. The stocky woman nudged her and spoke through 
clenched teeth.
  ‘That’s “Yes, Captain”, to you’.
  ‘Sorry. Yes, Captain’.
  ‘Big for ten, aren’t you’, The Captain said. It was a statement rather than a 
question, and Brenhya made no reply. The officer continued. ‘As you know, we are 
all equals here. So, when we’re off duty, I am Vara and the lieutenant, here’, she 
indicated the other woman, ‘is Athlo. But this is a corps of well disciplined fighting 
women. Therefore, on duty, you will address me as “Captain”, she as “Lieutenant” 
and all superior officers by their rank, with respect and deference. Got that?’
  ‘Yes Captain. Excuse me, Captain?’
  ‘Hmm?’
  ‘How do I know when you’re off duty? I mean, I’ve seen the Warriors in the 
refectory. They all dress the same’.
  The Captain pointed to an emblem embossed on the clasps of the Lieutenant’s 
cloak.  
  ‘See this? This is the emblem of rank. It is removed during off-duty periods. The 
hawk, here, denotes a Lieutenant. Mine is an eagle. A Sergeant has an owl, and a 
Corporal, a raven. I am the commanding officer. Lieutenant Athlo is my aide, and 
also in charge of training. There are two other lieutenants, each in charge of a 
battalion, which are in turn divided into two phalanxes looked after by a sergeant. 
Each phalanx consists of four squads in charge of a corporal, and there are, roughly, 
ten Warriors to a squad. Our current strength is one hundred and eighty three, plus 
nineteen acolytes, including you, who are addressed as “Cadet”. Does that answer 
you question?’ There was just a hint of sarcasm in the reply, but it was lost on 
Brenhya.
  ‘Yes, thank you. When do I get my uniform?’
  The Captain regarded her with surprised amusement, allowing the Lieutenant to 
reply.
  ‘You don’t’, she said, in a brusque but not unfriendly manner. ‘Not until you’ve 
completed your induction, and that won’t be ‘til you’re sixteen. We’re a corps of 
fighting women, Cadet, not girls’.
  ‘You will’, the Captain interrupted, ‘be issued with shoulder armour as needed, for 
training purposes, but you will not keep it. Now, go with Lieutenant Athlo. It’s time 
you were assessed’.
  Casually dismissed, Athlo led Brenhya to a large set of double doors. She pushed 
them open, and motioned the cadet to enter.
  The large and airy room was a gymnasium, although Brenhya did not yet know 
it’s name. A set of five climbing ropes hung from the high ceiling. Sets of wooden 
bars, arranged ladder fashion, were attached to one wall and a long, polished wood 
beam about four feet off the ground stood nearby. A vaulting horse, a high bar, and 
a pair of dangling rings completed the freestanding apparatus, and a thick, padded 
mat lay on the floor between each piece.
  A rack, containing weights cast from lead with a brass ring set into each, stood to 
one side. Starting at five pounds, they ascended in weight to the largest, at fifty. 
Just inside the door, a series of seven big, round boulders, each one bigger than the 
last, lay next to a four and a half foot high stone plinth. 
  Lieutenant Athlo removed her cloak, shoulder armour, and sandals and stood in 
her leather halter and skirt, revealing well muscled arms and abdomen. She 
instructed Brenhya to remove her shift. Being only ten the girl had no need, yet, of 
a halter, and so was naked except for her cotton underpants.
  ‘OK, Cadet’, Athlo said, as Brenhya unstrapped her sandals. ‘Let’s see what 
we’ve got to work with. Hmm. Plenty of muscle for a youngster, I see’. She 
indicated the boulders. ‘These are the Stones of Gloire. Gloire was one of our most 
famous Warriors, the only one ever to lift the big stone. The idea is, you start with 
the smallest, pick it up and put it on the plinth, and then replace it and move on to 
the next. The smallest one is a hundred pounds, the big one is two fifty. See how 
you get on.
  Brenhya walked to the smallest stone, lifted it a few inches as if testing the weight, 
and put it down again. She did the same with the next, and the next. The Lieutenant 
stopped her,
  ‘No, no’, she said. ‘You’re supposed to put them on the plinth’.
  ‘I know’, said Brenhya. ‘But I was taught always to know my own strength, and to 
save energy where I can. I’m looking for a stone to start with’. The Lieutenant 
snorted to hold back a laugh, and made “carry on” motions with her hands.
  The fourth stone, a hundred and fifty pounder, caused her some effort. She stood 
back from it, and remembered the training Deavon had given her; straight back, lift 
with the legs. She focussed her mind for a few seconds, before squatting down to 
position her hands under for a good grip.
  The large muscles of her thighs curved outwards as they powered her up to a 
standing position, the stone held high against her chest. Steady as a rock and 
breathing normally, she carried it over to the plinth and set it down on the top. She 
was about to lift it to replace it when she felt the Lieutenant’s hand on her arm.
  ‘Here’, the officer said handing her a leather apron the came high up the chest. 
“Put this on. I didn’t give you it before, because I didn’t think you could do it, but if 
you don’t wear it you’ll scratch your skin to hell and gone’.
  Brenhya slipped the apron over her head, and replaced the stone on the ground, 
next to the others. Athlo was about to lead her on to the next stage of the 
assessment, when she saw Brenhya crouch beside the next stone, a hundred and 
eighty pounds. Her mouth fell open with astonishment as the girl repeated her feat 
with apparently little more effort.
  Then she moved on to the sixth stone. Two hundred and twenty pounds of solid 
granite. Again, her amazing thighs pistoned her upright, the massive boulder 
clasped tight against her chest. But this time she staggered a little under the weight, 
and blew her reddened cheeks out with her breath. She managed to carry the stone 
to the plinth, but her arms were just not long enough to keep a good grip and she 
could not quite raise her burden high enough to get it on top. She dropped the stone 
as she stepped back, panting. Hands on knees, dripping sweat, she turned her head 
to look at her assessor.
  ‘Will that do, Lieutenant?’, she gasped. Athlo gave a snorting laugh of 
amazement.
  ‘Will that do? She asks me, will that do? Hell, Cadet, most girls your age can’t 
even move the little one! I told you that only Gloire had lifted the big one, well 
here’s a secret. Not many people have lifted the sixth one, either, and only five have 
ever managed to put in on the plinth. Will that do, indeed!’
  ‘Can you lift it?’ Brenhya asked innocently. Athlo chose not to answer.
  ‘I’ve seen enough’, she said. ‘You’ve already proved your ability to me, sufficient 
for an assessment, anyway. You can go.’ Brenhya was disappointed.
  ‘Oh’, she said. ‘But I want to finish it. If I’ve got nothing to prove to you, I need 
to prove it to myself. Please, Lieutenant?’ The officer looked at her for a long 
moment.
  ‘OK’, she said finally. ‘If that’s what you want. Get your breath back, first’.
  Like a trained athlete, Brenhya’s body did not take long to recover and she was 
ready in a few minutes. The lieutenant pointed out the various apparatus, arranged 
in a rough circle.
  ‘This’, Athlo explained, ‘is what we call “The Loop”. It will test your strength, 
agility, and stamina to the limit. If you have one’. The last was muttered under her 
breath. ‘Come, and I’ll walk you through it. The idea is that your feet should never 
touch the floor, so you keep to the mats and the apparatus at all times. You’ll see 
that there’s a six foot gap between some of the mats, so you’ll have to jump. Now, 
you start on this mat here with ten press-ups. You know how to do press-ups, don’t 
you?’ Brenhya nodded.
  ‘Right. Then you climb the first rope, cross to the second, down to the mat, over to 
what we call the squirrel bars, climb along to the beam, walk along it, down to the 
mat again, over the vaulting horse, five chin-ups on the bar, jump up, grab the rings 
and do five straight leg raises, and then lastly to the weight rack. Press the smallest 
weight, the smallest weight, the five pounder, over your head, and then back here. 
Got that?’ Brenhya nodded again.
 ‘Good. Then you go round again. But each time you go round, it gets harder. You 
add two press-ups, one chin, one leg raise, and move up a weight each time. OK?’
  ‘Yes’, agreed Brenhya. “What do I do when I get to the end of the weight rack?’
  ‘Ha! If you get to the end of the weight rack, Cadet, you can do it twice. Now, I’ll 
be right behind you. Ready? Go!’
  Brenhya pumped out the ten press-ups in fewer seconds and attacked the Loop 
with enthusiasm. She leapt on to the rope and began to swarm up it hand over hand, 
legs held at right angles to her body as she had seen the aerialists do. She was 
almost to the top when the Lieutenant called out from below. She stopped and 
looked down to see the woman clinging to the rope about six feet beneath.
  ‘You’re supposed to use your feet to help you, Cadet’.
  ‘Sorry. I don’t know how’.
  ‘Well, you ...oh, never mind. Your way suits you. Carry on’.
  Brenhya finished the climb and shinned down the next rope easily. She sprang 
onto the squirrel bars and swarmed along them with great agility. She all but ran 
along the beam, to drop onto the mat and spring across to the next.
  Athlo, who was now only a third of the way along the bars, gave up any idea of 
keeping up, and went to stand in the centre of the gymnasium to shout 
encouragement. Brenhya’s next obstacle was the vaulting horse, except nobody had 
showed her how to vault.
  She hurdled it.
  The five chins gave her no problem; in fact, she let go with her left hand to scratch 
her nose, and completed the exercise with her right hand only. The leg raises were 
no effort, and she sprinted to the weight rack to hoist the five pound weight like it 
was not there at all. Then back to the beginning for twelve press-ups. 
  Athlo was quite literally astounded by the girl’s athleticism. By the end of the 
tenth Loop, she was openly cheering and applauding her young charge’s strength 
and stamina. By the fifteenth, she was getting dizzy from watching her go round 
and around. By the twentieth, Brenhya was doing fifty press-ups, twenty five chins 
and leg raises, and pressing the fifty pound weight three times above her head. By 
the twenty-fifth circuit, the lieutenant was tired of being amazed and had had 
enough.
  ‘Stop!’. she called ‘Cadet! Stop!.
  Brenhya stopped and came over, breathing heavy but easily, glowing with 
exertion and sweating freely. 
  ‘That’ll do, Cadet’, Athlo told her. ‘I’ve had enough, even if you haven’t. I’m 
getting tired just watching. We’ll take a break, now, and this afternoon we’ll look at 
your motor skills and hand-eye coordination. Not that I think you’ll have any 
problem, but it’ll be less exhausting’.
  ‘I’m not exhausted’, Brenhya grinned.
  ‘No. I meant for me!’
  The two ate a light lunch, and the afternoon was spent on tests such as the 
lieutenant had mentioned. 
  That evening, Brenhya was sitting at a table in the refectory when Jaliza came to 
join her.
  ‘Goddess, you look bushed’, she said.
  ‘I am. I’ve never worked so hard in my life’, Brenhya said. ‘Never sweated so 
much, either.’
  ‘Tell me about it’, quipped Jaliza, holding her nose. The pair shared a laugh.
  At another table Drucia sat, looking daggers at Brenhya’s back.
 *     *     *     *     *
 
    Time passed. Brenhya’s days were consumed with training in hand to hand 
combat and weapons skills, tactics and strategy. She very quickly mastered these 
martial arts, her strength, agility, and lightning reflexes lending her an advantage, 
and proved to be one of the quickest studies the training officer had ever known, 
particularly adept with the bow and broadsword.
   She was not so quick with the literacy, however, and it took Jaliza a long time to 
get her to grasp the fundamentals of grammar and syntax. She kept at it, though, 
because she realised that, not only was it a necessary skill, but through it her 
relationship with Jaliza deepened, and they soon became fast friends. 
   Eventually, it sank in, so that by the time she was fourteen, Brenhya was not only 
a consummate martial artist, but was also able to read and write as well as she 
needed. Neither did she forget the strength and flexibility exercises taught to her by 
Deavon, and worked at them nearly every day with almost religious fervour. She 
was now able to place the sixth Gloire Stone on the Plinth, although the seventh 
still defeated her.
   Brenhya at fourteen was beginning to blossom in all ways. To begin with, she had 
grown so that she was able to look the tall captain directly in the eye. Her chestnut 
hair had lost it’s curl, and tumbled in glossy waves past her shoulders. Her freckles 
had gone, leaving her with a flawless complexion, and her skin had a golden, 
healthy glow. Her body was developing womanly curves, and her burgeoning 
breasts were the envy of most of the girls in the dormitory.
   Her muscular development had filled out, too. Still covered by a thin layer of 
puppy fat, nonetheless her body was developing the strong, feminine lines that 
would make her totally stunning in later years. “Brenhya Make a Muscle” was still 
a favourite game in the common room and she usually obliged, only now her biceps 
were large as well as hard and round. Her belly and back were like slabs of sheet 
steel, and her tireless legs were columns of pure strength, despite the fact that she 
had not reached her peak by several years.
   During this time, she had little contact with Drucia. That person was now a full 
corporal with a squad of her own. When they did meet, Drucia gave Brenhya some 
harsh looks and harboured dark thoughts of revenge; Brenhya was still unforgiven 
for the incident in the common room on her second night at the Hall.
   Drucia herself had developed well and, though carrying more fat, was still a very 
strong young woman. She was still a bully, especially to the Warriors in her own 
squad, but aside from the occasional sarcastic comment tended to leave Brenhya 
alone.
   One day in the winter of her fourteenth year, it was Brenhya’s turn to go down the 
mountain on a provisioning expedition. The usual compliment made up the party; 
four Servitors, two Warriors, two Priests, and an acolyte, Brenhya. One of the 
Priests was Jaliza, fully ordained in her white robes.
   The company were lowered down the mountain in the big wicker basket, the 
complicated system of levers and pulleys meaning that Sister Doorkeeper could 
operate the mechanism single-handedly. On their return, they would pull the brass 
handle that rang a bell in the vestibule in a coded sequence. No-one who did not 
know the code could use the elevator.
   They set out before full daylight, and reached Brandwick about midmorning. 
Upon arrival, they split up. Only two of the Servitors had business purchasing 
provisions. The rest were enjoying a holiday, but were to rendezvous two hours 
before dark, for the return trip. Brenhya grabbed Jaliza’s hand.
   ‘Come with me’, she said. Jaliza thought her friend was full of unaccustomed 
excitement, and wondered why.
   Brenhya guided Jaliza through unfamiliar lanes and alleyways, until they came to 
the winter quarters of the Travelling Show. She went straight to the stables and 
went in without knocking, holding a finger to her lips. Caught up in the adventure, 
Jaliza crept stealthily beside her.
   Tiptoeing between the horses, Brenhya caught sight of a familiar ginger headed 
figure, industriously currying a horse’s mane. She silently crept up behind, and the 
man, concentrating on his task, never noticed until she spoke.
   ‘Prithee, sirrah’, she announced in a loud voice. ‘And marry, nuncle, and 
suchlike’.
   The Fool stood up with such a start that he almost gave himself a whiplash. 
Whirling, his face lit up in a huge grin as he recognised the visitor.
   ‘Muss!’ He yelled, as he threw his arms about her. ‘So great to see you’. He held 
her at arm’s length. “Gods, you’ve grown. I always said you’d be a stunner, and 
look at you!’
   ‘Hello, Fool. Good to see you, too. You haven’t changed a bit’.
   ‘No? But you have. Gods! Hang on. I’ll go get everybody’. He darted out a small 
door.
   ‘Why does he call you Muss?’ Jaliza asked. Brenhya looked a little 
uncomfortable.
   ‘Short for m’s’l’g’l’’, she mumbled.
   ‘What?’
   ‘Short for Musclegirl, OK?’ She caught the mischievous glint in Jaliza’s eye. 
‘Don’t you dare, Jal! You keep that to yourself, OK?’ Jaliza held up both hands 
placatingly.
   ‘OK. OK. I never heard it’. But she still had a cheeky grin.
   Uproar ensued as the Show company poured into the stables to greet Brenhya. 
There were huge welcomes and big hugs all round. The dwarf, Brannagh Ironheart, 
was particularly delighted but, because of his stature, contented himself with 
hugging her leg. Deavon shouldered her way through the press, picked Brenhya up 
around the waist, and twirled her round planting a big kiss on her cheek. 
   ‘Oof’, she said. ‘You got heavier’. To the strongwoman’s delight, Brenhya then 
picked her up and twirled her round.
   ‘You didn’t’, she said. She looked around. ‘Where’s Zendos?’ The Fool’s face 
fell.
   ‘Dead’, he told her. ‘Lung fever, two winters ago’. Brenhya was obviously upset, 
but no tears fell. ‘Now’, Fool went on, ‘it’s a cooperative. He left it to all of us. It’s 
still Zendos’ Magnificent Travelling Show, though’.
   Brenhya felt Jaliza tug at her jerkin. She introduced her, and she was warmly 
welcomed.
   ‘Hey, Brenhya’ called one of the performers. ‘Remember this?’. 
   He threw three brightly coloured balls to the girl, and she caught them and began 
to juggle.
   ‘I didn’t know you were in the Show’, said Jaliza, once again impressed by her 
friend.
   ‘I wasn’t’, replied Brenhya. ‘But I learned a lot’. 
   ‘Best horse wrangler we ever had’, proclaimed Fool, and everybody nodded 
agreement. Brenhya blushed.
   Brannagh had climbed on to a barrier between two horse stalls, and now he threw 
himself off it, into Brenhya’s arms. She caught him easily.
   ‘’Er coulds ‘ave bin greats, if’n ‘er’d stayed. Bloody greats tart, goin’ off up’n a 
mountain’.
   ‘I had to, Brannagh’, she said, transferring his weight to one arm and stroking his 
beard. ‘You know that’.
   ‘Yup’, he replied wistfully. ‘I knows. Buts still ...’
   Her attention was distracted by Deavon, who handed her a thick iron bar, about 
three feet long and one and a half inches in diameter. She put down the dwarf and 
took the bar.
   ‘Now this’, she grinned, ‘I couldn’t forget. Deavon, you must have showed me the 
technique a hundred times, but I could never quite get it started’.
   ‘Bet you could now’, Jaliza said. Brenhya shrugged noncommittally.
   ‘Bets yer coulds’, the dwarf joined in.
   ‘Yeah, go on, Muss. Give it a try’.
   ‘Go on, Bren’.
   As often of old, Brenhya looked to the strongwoman for reassurance. She nodded 
approvingly.
   ‘Try’, she said quietly.
   Brenhya shrugged off her jerkin. As Deavon had taught her, Brenhya wrapped the 
centre of the bar in thick wadding to protect her skin, and placed it across the back 
of her neck. Even through the sleeves and bodice of her shift, the expansion of the 
powerful muscles of her shoulders and arms as she put pressure on the ends of the 
bar was obvious to the onlookers. She piled on more pressure, and the bar began to 
give a little. Shouts of “Brenhya! Brenhya!”, came from her small audience. She 
gritted her teeth and the sinews of her neck stood out like steel cables as the bar 
gradually bent inwards. The, she lifted it from about her neck, held it in front of her 
and with the power of her arms and pectoral muscles alone, completed the feat. She 
held up the bar, now bent into a perfect “U”, for the approval of the audience, as 
she had seen Deavon do, and took a small bow. The Showfolk cheered and 
applauded, but none more than her friend, Jaliza.
  Only Deavon was not clapping, regarding Brenhya with folded arms and a 
challenging stare. Brenhya looked a question, wondering if she had done it wrong.
   ‘Now the other way’, Deavon said levelly.
   ‘What? Straighten it?’ Brenhya was aghast. ‘No. I couldn’t’. She was as tall as her 
mentor, now, and could look her straight in the eye. ‘Even you couldn’t, with a bar 
this thick’. Deavon held her gaze.
   ‘You can’, she said quietly.
   There was silence for a moment, then cheering erupted again, and the chant 
“Brenhya! Brenhya!”, began once more. The girl found Jaliza’s hand on her 
shoulder, and the Priest nodded her encouragement. Brenhya held up her hands.
   ‘OK, OK,’ she said. ‘I’ll try’.
   A hush fell on the gathering as Brenhya placed one end of the metal “U” under her 
right foot and laid hold of the other end with her right hand. With a sharp intake of 
breath she began to pull upwards.
   Nothing happened. She looked at Deavon, who nodded.
   ‘Again’, the strongwoman said.
   Brenhya adjusted her grip and tried again, this time putting her whole strength 
behind the effort. As she strained, the bar began to unbend, gradually at first, then 
with increasing speed, until it was like a wide “V”. Then she picked it up, and 
pulled it apart the rest of the way with her bare hands until it was almost exactly 
straight once again. There was wild applause and, this time, Deavon joined in as 
enthusiastically as the rest.
   ‘Whoa, Vonnie!’, laughed Fool. There goes your claim to be “Thee Stro-o-ongest 
Woma-a-an in the Wor-r-rld!’
   Deavon seized Brenhya’s face between her two hands and placed a big kiss on her 
forehead.
   ‘I couldn’t wish for a better successor. But don’t tell the punters!’
*     *     *     *     *

  Two years had made a gorgeous difference to Brenhya.  She was now sixteen, and 
a fully trained Warrior, although with no rank as yet, uniformed and presented with 
her soldier’s brass wrist protectors on her graduation. Now taller than the white 
haired captain, and almost the tallest woman at the Hall, she was without doubt the 
strongest. Having lost the last remnants of puppy fat, her glorious body was hard, 
chiselled and lean, with well defined, full muscles, close to their peak of perfection.
  She had recently taken to wearing a brass circlet around her head, to keep her 
luxuriant tawny hair out of her eyes, and in her shoulder armour, short skirt, and 
long crimson cape she made an entirely feminine but imposing figure. Her high 
cheekbones, piercing grey eyes, full lips and perfect skin gave her a beauty that 
men would die for and women would kill to possess. Any man would have given 
anything to have her long, long, powerful legs wrapped around him. She was, by 
now, absolutely stunning to look at, although when this was suggested to her she 
dismissed the idea with a shrug.
  Jaliza, too, had blossomed. She was only about shoulder high to Brenhya, but 
possessed a lovely, if petite, body of her own. She still had the shaggy blond hair 
and elfin features, but where these were simply cute as a teenager, she had become 
a very pretty young woman. In return for teaching her to read, Brenhya had been 
showing her some fitness and strengthening exercises, with the result that Jaliza 
was very strong for a girl and had developed small, hard muscles. 
  Brenhya and Jaliza remained almost inseparable best friends, but when Brenhya 
went into Brandwick that summer, on a provisioning trip, on this occasion Jaliza 
did not come with her. Of late the newly fledged Warrior had taken, on such 
excursions, to spending her time at the local livery stables among the horses, and 
had struck up something of a friendship with a youth called Ped, the son of the 
stable owner.
  Ped was almost a year older than Brenhya and just a shade shorter, supple and 
muscular, swarthy and good looking with thick black hair. Their relationship had 
always been on a casual, chummy basis, and on Brenhya’s infrequent visits they 
had spent their time in friendly conversation, usually about horses. This summer, 
though, in her new Warrior’s garb and her new womanly body, he began to view 
her in a different light. He had never seen her as a woman before, and as he gazed 
upon her fabulous face and wonderful body, he felt an unfamiliar stirring in his 
loins.
  The livery stable was a high, open building, with stalls along each side and a 
hayloft above. There were not many horses in residence today, and the two stood in 
an empty stall, idly chatting and passing the time. Without warning, Ped leant 
forward and kissed Brenhya full on the lips. Taken aback, she pushed him away.
  ‘What’re you doing?’, she asked.
  ‘Don’t you like it?’
  ‘No. Well ...yes. I just didn’t expect it’.
  Ped leaned toward her. This time she kissed him, tentatively at first, but with 
greater urgency as they were stimulated by the contact. He pulled her close and ran 
his hands over her wide back as their tongues explored the depths of each other’s 
mouths. Not knowing exactly why, she found herself grinding her hips against his, 
and was further excited by the growing tumescence she felt there. She slipped her 
arms under his and up around his shoulders, pulling him even closer, as he ran his 
hands over her arms, handling her full, hard biceps.
  His fingers found the buckle at the back over her shoulder armour, and she helped 
him pull it off revealing her splendid breasts, still encased in her halter. He fondled 
them through the soft leather and marvelled at their firm fullness. He broke their 
embrace for a second.
  ‘Have you ever ...?’, he said.
  ‘No. You?’
  ‘No. You want to ...?’
  ‘Mm hmm’. She kissed him again, sliding her hand to his crotch to feel the 
hardness there. ‘What about your father?’
  ‘Away all day. We can go up to the hayloft’.
  She pulled away from him and ran lightly to where a rope hung down from the 
loft. She turned to look at him expectantly and, as he started forward, climbed the 
rope using only her arms as she was used to do on the Loop. He shook his head as 
he watched. “Whew!’, he thought.
  As Brenhya disappeared into the loft, Ped began climbing the rope. He had 
ascended about three feet, when he felt himself rising with no effort on his part. He 
looked up to see Brenhya, smiling, superb legs straddling the opening, pulling up 
the rope hand over hand, hauling him up into the loft. His mouth fell agape as he 
watched her glorious muscles rippling while she heaved. She appeared not to be 
exerting herself unduly, yet he rose swiftly and smoothly until he was in the hayloft 
at her side. 
  Ped took her in his arms and began kissing her again. As long as he had known 
her, he had admired her muscles and obvious strength. He had never suspected, 
however, that she would actually be stronger, much stronger, than he was, and was 
surprised to find that this excited him even more. 
  They separated briefly and removed their clothing. Ped feasted his eyes on 
Brenhya, revealed in all her naked glory, her full, thrusting breasts standing proud 
without need for support. He fell to his knees before her, sliding his hands across 
her hard, ridged belly and marvelous flared thighs. He cupped a round, steel buttock 
in each hand and pulled her to him, nuzzling her burnished copper curls with his 
lips and tongue, breathing in the musky perfume of her sex. He felt her strong hand 
on the back of his head as a shudder ran through her muscular body and she pushed 
his face into her groin.
  Brenhya placed a hand under each of Ped’s arms, and lifted him to his feet. She 
kissed him long and deep, her tongue probing the recesses of his mouth. He 
responded in kind as her hot mouth crushed against his, running his hands over the 
deltoids capping her fantastic shoulders. She began to flex and pose [as she had 
learned from the Show], instinctively knowing that he would appreciate it. She 
raised a big, solid bicep and he ran his hands over it’s full curves, before she treated 
him to a display of her thick trapezoids and deltoids. She made her amazing 
stomach roll and ripple under his hand, eliciting little sighs of pleasure, and showed 
him the full-bellied muscles of her thighs and diamond shaped calves.
  Taking his hand, she lay down in the hay and pulled him down beside her. On his 
knees now, he gazed at the sleek lines of her body, lying there like a big, powerful, 
languorous cat.
 Ped was not unimpressive himself, and Brenhya licked her lips at the sight of his 
long, thick, iron-hard penis. 
  He began to kiss and lick at her long, strong feet, his long tongue exploring the 
crevasses between her toes. Brenhya let out a little moan as his mouth encircled and 
sucked hard at her big toe. Very slowly, letting his mouth and hands investigate her 
body, he began to work his way upwards, paying attention to every incredible 
muscle  on the way. 
  Brenhya sighed as Ped licked at the backs of her knees and kneaded the hard 
roundness of her calves and magnificent thighs. He kissed his way up her inner 
thigh and paused to pass an enquiring tongue around her labia. She bit her lip to 
stifle a cry when he found the hard nubbin of her clitoris. He lapped at the joy 
button gently but enthusiastically and occasionally slipped his tongue inside her 
opening vagina. As she rose to meet him, he began to encircle the inner lips of her 
wet vulva with his tongue, causing a thrill to run through her belly each time he 
touched her clitoris. He sucked and lapped thirstily as her juices began to flow, 
filling his mouth with the honey-sweet taste of her.
  Brenhya felt her belly spasm as the first waves of orgasm, her first proper orgasm, 
caused her to moan and cry out loud.
  ‘Oh, Goddesssssss! Oh! Oh! Agh!’.
  She clamped her mighty thighs around Ped’s head and used her hands to push his 
face deep into her crotch as her power packed body convulsed again and again. Ped 
struggled and pushed desperately at her thighs as the incredible pressure built up 
about his head. He might as well have tried to move a mountain.
  He was beginning to fear for his life, convinced his head was about to be crunched 
and he would die, when the waves began to subside. Brenhya relaxed back into the 
hay with a sigh. Ped shook his head to clear it, awed by the display of sheer power 
to which he had been subjected. Strangely, he found that it only aroused him even 
more, and had almost climaxed himself during the experience.
  He resumed his oral exploration of her body by tracing the outline of her defined 
stomach muscles with a finger and licking his way in and around her neat navel, but 
Brenhya wanted him where she could see him. He was powerless to resist as she 
pulled him up her body, lubricated by a film of sweat between their two torsos, and 
kissed his mouth long and deep. She opened her legs to admit him to her privacy, 
and he nudged the open vulva with the bulbous head of his engorged manhood. 
  Brenhya’s steely fingers dug deep into the muscles of his back, leaving eight small 
circular bruises, as he plunged his big  phallus into her tight, warm moistness. 
There was a brief moment of resistance and pain as her hymen broke, unsealing the 
depths of her tunnel, and then he was root-deep in her.
  Brenhya climaxed again, almost immediately. Her back arched and Ped was 
almost bucked clear as her spasm lifted his heavy body high. For a long moment, 
they stayed like that while the orgasm wracked her body, every muscle etched in 
relief.
  Finally, she relaxed with a groan, and Ped began slow piston-like movements, 
thrusting his penis deep inside and withdrawing right to the tip before plunging in 
again. But Ped was also inexperienced, and it was not long before the urge came 
upon him. His strokes became shorter and faster, and his breath came in gasps 
through his clenched teeth. Brenhya thrust her hips to meet his, and they achieved a 
matching rhythm as Ped neared his orgasm.
  Ped let out a roar of ecstasy, and plunged even deeper, his body rigid as he came. 
She felt his hot semen spurting inside her, and this brought her to the point of 
another climax of her own. She wrapped her long legs around him, and used them 
to pull him even deeper, her orgasm matching his wave for wave. Ped thought he 
was in a heaven far beyond the usual seventh; he could never have imagined it 
would be like this, he thought he was coming forever.
  In time, they relaxed, and Ped collapsed on top of Brenhya, sweating and 
breathing hard. The young woman was also sweating, although not breathing quite 
as heavily due to her innate athleticism. She enjoyed the warm feel of his weight 
upon her, his slowly slackening penis still inside her as they lay in silence. He made 
to roll off her, but she restrained him.
  ‘No’, she said in a low voice. ‘Stay there. It’s nice’. Ped nestled into her shoulder.
  ‘Brenhya’, he whispered. ‘That was ...if I never ...you’re so strong, I ...’ She 
stroked his hair.
  ‘Shh’.
  ‘If I never have another woman ever again, I ...’
  ‘Shh. Just relax. It was great for me, too’.
  His regular breathing told her he had fallen asleep. She lay there in the hay, his 
weight comfortable on her body, staring up into the rafters with a dreamy 
expression.

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