Trojan Slaves Page 10

  'This should suit your little prize well. Should I fit it, my lord?'

  'Certainly, Ajax,' said Achilles, dropping onto a huge sofa and taking wine from a naked slave girl. She bent to serve him. Her firm breasts were conical and topped with pink nipples. The line of her buttocks were picked out in the soft yellow lamplight. She trembled, nervous at being so close to the god-like Achilles. 'I will be interested to see it in operation,' he said thoughtfully. 'And to see what pleasures it brings. Yes, fit it.'

  The girl backed away, still bowing, still trembling, her nipples even harder than when she first approached her terrifying master.

  Ajax lifted the cords attached to Sappho's nipples, stretched them up to the roof of the tent and bound them into a pole that spanned the sidewalls. As he tied them to the pole Sappho had to lift herself up on her toes. Even so, stretching up as much as she could, the cords still pulled tightly and her breasts were stretched by the tugging leads that ran from her nipples. She found it impossible to keep her balance for more than a few moments at a time. Whenever she lost her footing and fell sideways the cords pulled painfully and she had to fight quickly to get back into position and relieve the strain. Her heart fluttered with anxiety as she realised her predicament.

  'Now, my beauty,' said Ajax, squeezing Sappho's cheeks between thumb and forefinger. 'Let me and your lord see how you take to Praxis' little jewel.'

  He lifted the glinting contraption in front of her. Sappho's eyes widened. She tried to pull away but she could not. The pain in her nipples dug too deeply to be able to move from her precarious position on tiptoe. Her heart beat fast and she breathed heavily.

  Ajax released her and she dropped back. Her captured nipples injected searing pain into her body and she rose again on her toes. She was filled with anxiety and shivered, but even that caused the tension in the cords to heighten, and the pain in her breasts to increase. She did not know what was going to happen. Her fate was in another's hands and she felt overcome with despair.

  He poked his fingers into her mouth. She tried to resist, clamping her teeth together, fixing her jaw. But he was far too strong for her to resist. He probed and got her mouth open enough to get the tips of his fingers in. He pressed his thumb against her upper teeth and forced her jaw down. He held her mouth wide.

  She looked over to Achilles, sprawled on the heavy throws, smiling, amused, intrigued. For a moment she wondered if he would intercede, save her, but she could tell from his expectant gaze that he was only interested in her humiliation. She wanted to beg for mercy but she could not speak. She felt herself dropping back on the cords. She strained up onto her toes as much as she could in an effort to relieve the pain. Her legs quivered as she struggled to keep her balance.

  Ajax took the silver contraption, Praxis' jewel, and held it in front of her mouth. She could smell the sterile metal, sense the shininess, the coldness. She looked down at it, glinting in the lamplight, shining like the blade of a dagger. And she looked at Ajax's face as, quizzically, he turned the jewel this way and that until he had it the right way round. Satisfied, he pressed it to her mouth and again she backed away as much as she dared. This time she slipped off her toes completely and gasped with a deep shock of pain. The pole to which the cords were tied sagged under the strain. Her nipples stretched agonisingly, her breasts filled with pain. In desperation she struggled back up onto her toes.

  She felt the metal edges of the jewel touch her stretched lips. It was cold, smooth, unforgiving. For a moment she wanted to lick it. She moved the tip of her tongue towards it, but drew it back as she felt herself toppling again. Ajax pressed the jewel in and it stretched her mouth even wider. The rings on its sides pressed against her taut cheeks as the upper bent piece covered her upper teeth and the lower covered her bottom teeth. She breathed in deeply, gagging as she did, struggling to swallow, feeling her mouth drying, her throat constricting, her nostrils flaring.

  She fell back again and struggled frantically to get back up. Her nipples seared with pain, her breasts stretched. She fought desperately to get back onto her toes and flushed with fear as she thought she might not. Ajax stood back and leered at her. She laboured to stand, still breathing hard, wondering what was going to happen.

  'She likes it, my lord,' Ajax announced. 'See, she jumps for joy at the pleasure it brings.'

  Sappho's eyes filled with tears. She regained her balance and stood quaking with fright. She did not know what to expect. She was overcome with suffering and pain. She felt so alone, so abandoned, so misused. She could only stare as Ajax stretched his hand forward and reached his fingers inside her mouth. She heard her breath hissing against his hand. He grasped the tip of her tongue, squeezed it and pulled. She gagged again and the heaving movement caused her to drop again on the cords from which she hung. She tried to wriggle free, tried to scream, but her effort to move, constrained as she was in her precarious position, brought barely a movement of her head, and her attempt to cry out resulted in nothing more than a whimper.

  Ajax drew the tip of Sappho's tongue between the two straight pieces of silver that stretched across the centre of the upper and lower pieces which now covered her teeth. He turned first the screw on one side, and then the screw on the other. The clamp tightened down onto her tongue and held it firmly in place.

  Ajax laughed, leant forward and licked Sappho's face. She wanted to cry but could not.

  'And now, my lord,' he pronounced. 'The jewel's secret.'

  Achilles' eyes widened with increased interest as Ajax opened the three long metal pieces of the jewel. The one leading up from the piece that covered Sappho's upper teeth, he pulled up and back against the top of her head. The other two, leading from the rings pulled firmly against her cheeks, he took around the sides of her head. The slit in the one at the centre fitted around her nose, passed over her forehead before joining the other two at the back of her head. The three clipped together there with a special spring plate.

  Sappho stood motionless, the shiny silver jewel stretching her mouth, covering her teeth, clamping her tongue and encasing her head in its intricately worked metal.

  'There, my lord,' announced Ajax. 'That is the jewel fixed. Now I will show you how it works. Crios! Abas!'

  It was only a few seconds before both appeared at the entrance to the tent.

  'My lord?' enquired Crios. 'You need our service?'

  'I do indeed,' said Ajax. 'Look, we have a maiden waiting. And she is willing for your attentions.'

  'Shall I bring a cane, lord? Does she need the disciplining sting of a rod? Or the slap of a belt, perhaps? Or the deep bite of a whip? Maybe she needs to feel the flat of a hand? Or the slap of a hide...'

  'No, Crios. See, she has Praxis' jewel fitted. Her mouth is dry and needs wetting! Unhitch her from the tent pole. It is too kind. The jewel cannot operate unless we place her against something less forgiving.'

  Achilles pulled himself up on his elbows and looked on with inquisitive interest. The naked slave girl returned with more wine. She bent to serve him and he pressed her hips down across his lap. She draped his knees, hanging her head on the one side and widening her thighs slightly on the other. Her pert buttocks were a smooth curve and he rubbed a hand across them carelessly.

  Sappho felt relief as Crios and Abas undid the cords from the pole. She dropped to the floor, hitting it hard, taking her breath away. She dropped her head back against the ground and for some reason the tension on her tongue was relieved. She pressed her head back again, and again she felt the squeezing of the clamp across her tongue ease. She sighed with relief, and lay gasping heavily. But her relief was short-lived.

  Crios took one of the cords and Abas the other. They each pressed a foot against her shoulders to pin her down, then pulled the cord tight. She raised her stomach, trying to arch her back to relieve some of the tension, but they held her down too well.

  'Bring her here,' said Ajax. 'Against this post.' They pulled her up, teasing her forward with the cords, pulling her nippl
es. They placed her against a tent post so that the jewel's clasp at the back of her head was forced against it. As it was pressed she felt the pressure on her tongue decrease. She sighed with relief as her throat relaxed and some moisture gathered. Leaving her wrists bound they secured her to the post with leather thongs wrapped tightly around her ankles and knees.

  They pulled again on the cords attached to her nipples. She moved forward to ease the pain but, as she did, the clasp at the back of her head relaxed against the post and the pressure increased on her tongue. Surprised and confused she coughed, gasped for breath and pulled back. Even though the pain penetrated her nipples like fire, the pain in her tongue was so great she had to pull back to relieve the constriction the jewel caused.

  'Now you see the magic of Praxis' jewel, my lord,' said Ajax. 'The tightness on her tongue can only be relieved by her pressing back against the clasp. But when there are so many good reasons to come forward - like relieving a little pain - it is so hard to stay back.' He laughed and reached out to snatch the cords himself. 'The jewel is both the bringer and the taker of pain. It is a miraculous invention. Worthy of the gods themselves, my lord.' He turned back to Sappho. 'Here, little prize. Let me see which pain you prefer: the pain that Ajax offers you, or the pain of Praxis' jewel.' He pulled the cords. Sappho fell forward, unable to do anything except try to reduce the pressure, but as soon as she did she felt the dreadful constriction of the clamp on her tongue. She did not know what to do, which way to go. Each pain opposed the other. It was an unsolvable dilemma. She moved forward again as Ajax once more snatched at the cords, but the constriction on her tongue was too much, she could not stand it. She stopped moving, stood against the pain the cords were inflicting on her nipples, and gradually, steeling herself, hoping she could stand it, moved back against the post. Bit by bit she edged back. Each small movement increased the pain in her nipples, each small step brought her closer to relief of the pain in her tongue. Finally she stood against the post. Her nipples were stretched on the cords. Her body was filled with the fiery pain in her breasts. At last she was able to gasp with some relief, the agony in her tongue at least held at bay.

  Time and again Ajax or the others pulled the cords. Each time she lurched forward, only to drag herself back again, fighting with the pain in her nipples in order to get relief from the clasp on her tongue. Despair welled up. She could only choose one pain against another. She could not stop her suffering. She could not escape. She could only suffer. She was suffocating in an overload of unresolvable conflict.

  Ajax tired of the game. He told Crios and Abas to amuse themselves as long as they wished. He sat with Achilles, who still petted the slave girl's buttocks. They both watched as Sappho struggled repeatedly to reduce her pain. Achilles opened the slave girl's thighs and exposed the delightful shape of her moist pink slit. He ran a finger around it and the silky flesh glistened in the lamplight.

  'Her mouth is dry,' chuckled Ajax. 'She needs something to wet it!'

  Crios and Abas pulled Sappho forward. This time they did not allow her to go back against the post. They held the cords low, encouraging her to bend. They kept her there, bowed before them, her mouth pinned open by the jewel.

  Crios was the first, easing his cock into her open mouth, pushing the swollen tip between the metal shields that covered her teeth and over the clamp that held her tongue.

  Sappho felt the throbbing glans against the back of her throat and gagged, involuntarily tightening her throat around it. She felt the throbbing tip expanding, and she felt the swell of semen flowing to it. Suddenly her throat was filled - creamy and wet, sticky and salty. She pulled back, but again she was pulled forward and Abas filled her mouth. His cock was throbbing and stiff, its tip pressed against the back of her throat. She coughed, but it was suppressed by a burst of semen. The flood filled her, inundated her, then leaked, overflowing, from her wide-stretched lips.

  When they had finished Ajax ordered her release. Crios cut the thongs from her wrists. Her arms fell to her sides and she dropped her head. Ajax unclipped the clasp at the back of the jewel and removed it from her mouth, and despite the pains that racked her body she sighed with pleasure at the alleviation the jewel's removal brought. She drew back her tongue and tasted the semen that lay upon it. She did not hesitate. She closed her mouth and swallowed. The semen ran down her throat like nectar, and she looked at Crios and Abas in the hope that they could provide her with more.

  Abas cut away the thongs at her ankles and knees. He clipped a heavy ring to one of her ankles, secured it, and fixed a chain to it. He led her outside and locked the chain to a heavy post driven into the ground as an anchor. Sappho crouched down on the sand and rested her hands between her thighs. She breathed heavily, recovering from her ordeal. She felt her heart calming, her breathing becoming regular again; she also felt her searching fingers slipping between her thighs. They probed her sex, searching out the delights that lay within its delectable darkness. The images of her suffering came back into her mind. She thought of herself pressed against the post, holding back the pain in her tongue as her nipples burned. She sensed again the moisture of her cunt, wetting her flesh and covering her fingers with silkiness. She thought of her mouth held wide, her tongue clamped and the men's semen flowing into her mouth and down her throat. She was overcome. She could do nothing except rise on her fingers and allow her ecstasy to take its irresistible course through her jerking body.

  Achilles walked amongst his men on the beach; it was his way, asking about their lives, showing his knowledge of them, encouraging them. He leant on his spear, his golden skin glowing in the flickering light of the fire, as he listened to a soldier's story of battle and bravery. His attention was caught by a whimpering groan and he looked behind a nearby tent.

  Sappho was crouched there, naked, her fingers deep inside her. She panted, breathing harder as they went deeper, sighing as they emerged. She was thinking of Chryseis. She was imagining her watching, imagining the worshippers at the temple staring at her. She was imagining herself crying out as she was filled with pleasure. She was imagining being thrown on her back as she was discovered. She was imagining being whipped, caned, and thrashed until she could no longer stand it. And as she thought of these things she thought of having them again, and again, and she moaned with the ecstasy of pleasure and the anticipation of more to come.

  Achilles stared down at her. She saw him and came with an overpowering convulsion of pleasure.

  'Take her away and chain her with the others,' he said. 'I will keep her. She is my prize. But she needs more restraint. Yes, chain her with the others.'

  Soldiers dragged her away. She was still shivering with her ecstasy when they strung her up, her arms and legs spread wide, bound in chains to the side of one of the boats.

  They left her there and she hung in despair, now hopeless and alone. Another captive hung beside her, her head bent forward, her flame-red hair falling in a tousled mass, her naked body, taut and athletic, stretched tight in the imprisoning chains.

  Sappho was unable to speak. The female lifted her head.

  'My name is Eva,' she said. 'I have been here since the Greeks pulled their ships up on this accursed shore. I do not think I will ever be free. I will never tread on the soil of my homeland again. Surely, it is over for us both.'

  Chapter 12

  An escape plan

  Agamemnon strutted through the Greek encampment. Chryseis was led by a heavy chain locked into an iron collar clamped tightly around her neck. She had been hard to control, and Agamemnon had her whipped every night. Still she remained disobedient, resentful and hard to subdue. The collar had been fitted so that at any time, day or night, she could be taken easily to her lord Agamemnon for further punishment or discipline. When he went somewhere he took her with him, having her led behind him on her chain, stopping sometimes to have her whipped or thrashed with a cane.

  Chryseis spent her nights thinking of Troy, the temple, the naked girls and the young men.
She lay on the ground which was her bed, her eyes filled with tears, and a hand between her thighs, as she imagined her old home and all she had been forced to leave.

  Everyone went silent as Agamemnon entered Achilles' tent. Achilles stood to greet him. They clasped hands and stared unyieldingly into each other's eyes. Agamemnon needed Achilles and his army of Myrmidons if he was to be victorious at Troy. Achilles needed the cause, the war which Agamemnon provided, to show his great skills and live the life of an indomitable warrior. The two great men were mutually dependant, mutually fearless.

  Sappho and Eva had been put to work as serving girls. They had been dressed in light silk smocks which reached below their knees and were open at each side. As they bent to pour wine for the guests their robes opened wide and their nakedness was revealed. Some of the high-ranking chieftains who were Achilles' company grabbed at them as they leant over with the wine jugs. Eva pulled away from them, but they easily dragged her back. Sappho had more guile. She slipped their grasp and, pretending to be needed by someone else, ran to another guest, her jug held high. This allowed her to escape more often than Eva but still, sometimes, she was caught.

  Sappho stopped, wide-eyed and shocked, as Chryseis came in. She could not believe it. She smiled nervously, and without thinking went to towards her. She was stopped by Agamemnon's brother, Menelaus. He ran a powerful hand up inside her smock and drove it between her thighs. She tried to turn away, lifting her wine jug as if someone had ordered her over, but Menelaus would not let her go. He pushed his hand up the insides of her thighs and rubbed his fingers around the soft flesh of her cunt. It was moist and warm and, as he applied pressure to it, the lips opened and the silkiness folded around his fingertips. He smiled and thrust. She rose to reduce the depth of penetration, but as she did she also tightened herself around them. She bit her lip and looked around anxiously.