Trojan Whores Read online

  Chapter 11

  A gift from the Greeks

  At sunrise the immense horse was hauled by the naked women out across the plain of Troy. Flinching beneath the vicious whips of the harsh slave masters, they toiled for hours in the building heat. None of them escaped the wrath of the leather lashes. All bore the red lines inflicted by the flails on their sweating bodies. In the midday sun some fell exhausted to the ground, unable to go any further. The progress was halted. The unconscious women were hauled up on ropes into the body of the beast. There they were thrown down, consumed by their efforts. Others, kept in reserve to take their place, were unchained, let down and secured to the ropes. At a signal from one of the slave masters the women bent forward and began their task again. The relentless whips kept them at their labour until, again, too many dropped to continue the terrible journey without others being brought to toil in their place.

  The sun dipped onto the western horizon. It dropped behind the island of Teredos, outlined as a dark shadow by the crimson glow that now lay behind its rocky form. At last, as daylight disappeared, the wheels at the horse's feet finally ground to a halt at the mighty gates of Troy.

  Some of the women collapsed. Even the whips could not bring them back to their feet. Some knelt and drew sand up to their mouths, so confused by delirium they drank it as though it were water to quench their thirst. Others stood, bemused, gasping for breath, staring into a distance they could not see, a future they could not foretell.

  Sinon marched forward. He stood beneath the towering walls and spoke.

  'Citizens of Troy. I bear a gift for you all. Agamemnon has led his army back to sea. Your shores are empty. The Greeks have returned home. They have had enough of this terrible war; now they seek only peace. To mark their respect for you they leave you this mighty wooden horse. They wish you to accept it as an offering. Present it to your gods as a favour. I beg you to receive it, take it into your city. There it can remain, forever an emblem of the peace between our nations. Citizens of Troy, the war is over.'

  Guards ran frantically along the walls of the city. Messages were passed, orders received. As dusk turned to darkness all fell silent.

  It was stifling inside the beast. Exhausted slave women were packed in tightly, their naked bodies crammed together in a smothering heap. Eva crouched nearby. She held Calliope tightly on her lead. Calliope, on all fours, looked up at her, waiting for instructions. Eva bit her lip anxiously. She had been sent by Praxis to find suitable women for slavery. He said her future depended on her success. He had spent a great deal on bribes to get her into the horse, and he would not tolerate failure. If she was successful, however, her reward would be beyond her wildest dreams.

  Achilles and his men crouched amongst the wood and iron scaffolding that was the framework of the mighty beast. Huge timber uprights were clamped with iron bolts to cross members upon which an internal floor was laid. Soldiers stooped in the confined space, weighed down with their armour, anxious to see battle. Pensively they ran their fingers along the edges of their sword blades. They tested the sharpness with their nails, satisfying themselves that they had done everything possible to prepare for what lay ahead. Achilles rested on one knee, waiting for the moment to break free from the innards of the horse. His piercing dark eyes reflected his single-minded preoccupation with victory and destruction. He was a warrior created for action. He had no other purpose. Two oil lamps burned in the horse's eyes. The light from them reflected back into the beast and cast a greasy yellow glow onto its silent occupants.

  Some soldiers, restless for action, moved about silently in the belly of the beast. They appeared like wraiths in the half light cast from the lamps. They prowled amongst the sleeping women, stepping between their sprawled legs, lifting their feet over the women's entangled arms. One of the men bent and circled one erect nipple with his fingers. She lay exhausted, unconscious, stifled in the heat, unaware of his touch. He circled her nipple again, this time offering more pressure. Still she did not respond. She lay on her back, sleeping deeply, her legs apart, her arms up above her head. The slit of her cunt could just be seen in the half light, the dark indentation between its lips a delightful invitation to what lay within. The soldier looked at his comrades. They came closer. One of them bent and ran his hand down the woman's flat stomach. He felt the curve of her thighs and followed the delicious line along her slender waist. Still she did not move, completely unconscious. Another let his hand fall between her legs, near the top of one thigh. He felt the soft skin, its tension and smoothness. He moved his hand up until it touched the exquisite flesh of her cunt. He pressed the palm against it. It was firm, but gave under the pressure. Still she did not move. He let a finger press against her flesh. It opened to reveal a glistening line of moisture. He traced it with his fingertip. The lips opened more.

  The two men knelt beside the woman, both aware of Achilles nearby, both conscious of the need to remain quiet inside the horse. Eva watched them. She saw their furtive eyes, their surreptitious movements. She saw the closed eyes of the woman, her mouth half open, her chest rising and falling with slow breaths. She listened to the rhythm of her breathing. She stroked Calliope, picking up the tempo of the soldier's hand as he began massaging the woman's glimmering cunt. Calliope responded to Eva's touch. She rested her head against Eva's leg and purred.

  The man pressed his finger against the woman's clitoris. Eva saw it raised between the fleshy lips. She watched it throbbing against the man's probing finger. She saw the woman's hips lifting against his touch. When she looked at her eyes they were still closed; testimony to her sleepy unawareness.

  The man was emboldened by her lack of response. He let his finger inside her channel. Still she lay silent, exposed, unmoving. He moved it up and down, as if it were a cock. She parted her lips slightly. He stopped for a moment, checking to see if she would rouse. But she did not. She remained quiet and still. The other soldier took his sword from its scabbard. He held the blade in his gloved hand. He offered the butt end of the handle, the pommel, against the woman's cunt, just beneath where the other man's finger was inserted. She squirmed against it. The one with his finger in her sex pulled it out and presented its tip to her anus. He pressed it against the tight circular muscle. Eva watched it dilating under the pressure. It opened up for what was being offered, welcoming it in. Still the woman did not awaken.

  Calliope tugged on her lead. Eva held her back. The strain on the lead sent a quiver of excitement through Eva. She wanted it tighter. She pulled Calliope back, just to sense the excitement of the increased tension. Calliope eased herself against the lead's restraint, but slowly, not allowing the tension to decrease, keeping the pressure on her collar and on the loop of the leash in Eva's hand.

  Eva watched the handle of the sword entering the woman. The leatherwork glistened at the fleshy entrance. It soaked up the moisture that ran from it. It picked up the orange light from the oil lamps in the horse's eyes. The man forced the handle in slowly. It entered to the hilt. Still the woman remained motionless, completely at rest, her sleep undisturbed, her dreams uninterrupted. The other man pressed his finger into her anus. He kept the pressure up until his knuckle stopped it from entering any more. The moisture from the woman's sex ran down the palm of his hand. It shone with wetness as he pressed his finger harder, just to test that it could go no deeper, just to be sure it was at the limit.

  Calliope pulled against the lead. Eva held her back. This time the pressure was greater. Calliope's enthusiasm to pull against the restraining collar was increased. Eva let Calliope have some slack. Calliope pulled forward, moving first her one hand then the other. Eva tugged, but only teasingly, not with any true purpose or intention to restrain.

  A third man crouched above the woman's face. He held his cock and pressed the swollen end against the woman's parted lips. She opened her mouth more as it touched. He waited and watched. She did not wake. He pressed. She reared up a little, opening her mouth wide, allowing it fully inside. Sti
ll she was asleep.

  Calliope pulled more. Eva let her, enjoying the movement as well as the tension. Calliope moved one knee then the other. Slowly she crawled. She stopped behind the man with the sword. Eva held her there, pulling the lead tight, waiting, expectant, filled with the excitement of anticipation.

  Calliope pressed the side of her face against the man's thigh. He turned and saw her. He looked at Eva, unsure what to do. Did he have her approval? Should he speak? Eva looked down at the woman and opened her mouth. She licked her tongue out and drew it back slowly. Calliope pressed harder and moved her head up and down against the man. She curled against him, bending her body so that her waist squeezed against his thigh. He removed the handle of his sword from the sleeping woman. He realised he did not have to ask for approval.

  Calliope pulled and Eva allowed her some slack. Calliope crawled until she was by the side of the sleeping woman. She dropped her head and took an erect nipple in her mouth. She raised her buttocks and allowed them to part enough to display the shape of her fleshy sex. Its centre glistened in the dim light. Moisture coated it. It parted more as she dipped her back. Eva pulled the lead until it was tight, but she had no expectation, no desire, that Calliope would do anything other than brace herself against its tension,

  She felt Calliope's panting breaths through the taut lead, telling her of Calliope's growing excitement. She moved the loop of the lead against her own sex. The man with the sword held the pommel of the handle against Calliope's anus. It shone with the moisture from the sleeping woman. Calliope lifted herself to it. Her panting increased, sending shivering shocks through the taut lead, passing directly into Eva's hungry sex.

  Calliope's anus welcomed the handle of the sword. The rounded butt entered, opening the anal muscle, pressing past its elasticity, allowing it to close tightly behind its bulbous shape. Calliope's breathing quickened. The pulses in the lead increased. Eva's cunt tingled with excitement. The ribbed handle sank deeper. Bound with leather and wire and covered with sharkskin for a better grip, it tugged against the silky flesh. Calliope started gasping. Eva tightened the shiny leather against her own moist softness. The handle went deeper, the shagreen tugging at the fleshy channel it penetrated. Eva watched the sword enter to the ornate cross guard, the whole of the hilt inside Calliope's anus.

  She looked at the men with the sleeping woman, one with his heavy cock in her mouth, another with his finger deep inside her anus. Everything was silent except for Calliope's gasping breaths. Eva dropped to her knees. She wanted the handle of the sword penetrating her cunt. She wanted the man's finger deep in her anus. She wanted the throbbing cock in her mouth. She wanted to be in Calliope's place. She wanted to feel the collar tight around her throat. She wanted to feel her mistress pulling at the lead, controlling her movements, taking away her will. She wanted to feel the restraining hand of another. She wanted to sleep while she was violated. She wanted to wake and find herself sore with the penetration of which she knew nothing. She wanted everything that was before her. She wanted every image in her mind to become reality.

  Suddenly she felt the powerful hand of Achilles on her shoulder. She jumped, startled. He held his hand across her mouth, ensuring she did not cry out, making sure she knew she must be silent. She did not move. He let his hand drop. She remained still, overcome by the sensation of his powerful body, his closeness, his strength. He nodded slowly. She took his nod as an order to remain silent, to keep still until he told her otherwise. She thrilled at being in his control. She kept the strap of the leash between her thighs. Shivers of joy ran through her body in a surging tide.

  Achilles looked at the man who held his sword handle in Calliope's anus. The man pulled it out. Calliope gasped and dropped forward. Achilles knelt behind her. He lifted his leather tunic and took out his weighty cock. He held it in his hand as it stiffened and grew. Eva stared down at it, unable to move, hardly able to breathe. Achilles held the swollen globe between Calliope's buttocks, just touching them, just allowing them to feel the heat of his shaft. Calliope, still panting, raised up on her arms and strained her head back. She tightened her throat, squeezing the exit for her breaths, making them even louder. Achilles held the throbbing tip against her open anus. Eva saw it widen as it sensed the approach. The tip pressed against it. The glans of Achilles' cock penetrated. Calliope gasped.

  Achilles picked up a rag and held it in both hands. He pulled it across her mouth. She let it between her teeth and grasped it tightly. He pulled back and as he tightened it against her bite he thrust his hips forward and buried his cock deep into her anus. She inhaled suddenly and heavily through flared nostrils. She bit on the rag. Achilles forced his cock in as deep as it would go. Calliope held her breath. Eva saw it was fully embedded, its length penetrating Calliope. She had it all.

  Eva watched the sleeping woman, the unconscious plaything of the men. She watched the rigid stem in her mouth as the man massaged its length and coaxed his semen to flow. Achilles thrust again into Calliope's welcoming anus. He held the rag tight. Calliope inhaled and exhaled like a wild animal, brought to the ground, tied to a stake and defiled by her ruthless captors.

  Achilles thrust deeper. Through the lead Eva felt the tension in Calliope's body. She felt the thrusting of Achilles. Her head filled with the gasping of the ecstatic Calliope. She desperately wanted to get down in Calliope's place. She wanted to kneel before the great Achilles. She wanted to feel his prodigious cock buried deep inside her anus. She wanted him to gag her with a rag and pull it back against her locked jaws. She wanted to feel her chest rising and falling as she struggled to breathe through flaring nostrils. But she did nothing. She kept silent. It was his command. She watched and did nothing.

  But the scene continued to feed her passion. Her lack of physical involvement infected her mania. She could not hold herself back. She felt it boiling inside her, sending her into delirium. She drew the leash loop close into her flesh. She pulled it around her clitoris. She tightened it. She pulled at it. She felt the pain it delivered, the anguish it wrought. She rose on it. She tightened her jaw. She clenched her teeth. She fixed her stare.

  It started to flow. She was drowned by an orgasm so overcoming that were she able to move she would have collapsed at Achilles' feet. It exploded within her. She was giddy. Her head spun. Her skin tingled. She felt hot and she felt cold at the same time. She could see only Calliope and the sleeping woman, and what was happening to them. Everything was caught in a whirlwind of confusion. Achilles reared back and let his semen spew into Calliope's rectum. Eva imagined its flow, like lava. She watched the sleeping woman, still unaware of her violation. The man's cock flooded semen into her mouth. It flowed over her lips. It dribbled on her chin and seeped down her neck.

  The horse's nostrils boomed with the gasping breaths of Calliope. Its eyes glowed with the yellow oil lamps in their sockets. The plain of Troy echoed with the noise of Calliope's ecstasy. The citizens, safe inside their walls, peered out over their ramparts and listened to the bellowing beast that lay before them. Its magic infected them. They were beguiled by it. The order was given to bring it into the city.

  The mighty gates creaked back on their huge hinges. It took a hundred men to haul them open. The women, some lying on the ground, some asleep in each other's arms, were brought back to their feet by the slave masters. They leant against the rings in the backs of their belts, tensing the ropes, urging the heavy wheels to turn. Slowly, as the whips cracked against their naked backs, the huge horse began the last part of its terrible journey.

  The women dragged it to the centre of the city's main square. There it sat silently, its eyes glowing in the dawn light. The women were unclipped from the ropes and carried away by citizens eager to taste the delights of Greek slaves. The slave masters were themselves driven back outside the gates, the inhabitants of Troy fearful that they might be impossible to control, or that they might bring disorder to their wonderful city. The slave masters gathered outside the walls, refusing to leave
until spears finally drove them back onto the great plain.

  The sun rose. The heat burned down on the horse's expansive carcass. Shimmering swirls curled up from its back as it baked in the relentless heat of the day. Citizens of Troy came out to view the great statue. Some poked at it, some hung back fearful of its size and overbearing majesty. Some discussed what to do with it. Some even said it was a trick and should be taken back outside the city. Polydorus rode up to it on his ornate trap. His pony-girls reared back and whined as they approached, and even though he lashed their buttocks with his whip he could not get them to go any closer.

  As dusk came the horse was surrounded by a large crowd, but as darkness encroached they left it silent and unwatched in the middle of the empty square.

  Chapter 12

  The trap is sprung

  Guards stood on the walls looking down onto the silent wooden horse.

  Polydorus drove his trap into the square. He had been with his brother, Paris, who had criticised him for being too soft with his pony-girls so he'd driven them in a fury. He galloped them through the streets and tight alleys. He thrashed them relentlessly with his whip. He yanked their reins, brutally pulling back the silver bits in their clenched teeth.

  The beautiful pony-girls were covered in sweat and gasping for breath. They reared back and whinnied when they saw the mighty wooden horse. Polydorus pulled back on the reins and brought them abruptly to a halt. They slipped on the dusty ground, barely managing to keep their balance. The trap pushed forward and the breachings pressed against their buttocks. Their plumed headdresses glittered in the light from the torches placed in the ground around the great horse. Their sweating bodies glistened, their leather bridles and chest harnesses flashed. The thongs attached to their waistbands pulled tightly between their thighs.