Trojan Slaves Page 12

  Calliope tried to move against her bonds, but it was pointless. Sappho thought of Calliope's exposure, bent forward, naked in front of the eyes of thousands of expectant men. She found herself panting with expectation.

  Wang stood back and again took Praxis' arm. Calchas motioned to one of the men who stood in the square around the naked girls. The man stepped forward and swished the stranded flogger at shoulder height. The strands curled in unison, slipping through the air with ease, then flexing in a biting snap when he stopped the downward action.

  Sappho breathed faster.

  Calchas chanted, holding his hands high, imploring Apollo to release the Greeks from the terrible plague he had placed upon them. He dropped his arms and immediately the man with the flogger stepped behind Calliope. The silence was intense.

  Sappho's heart pounded in her chest.

  The naked girls, still on their knees, slowly leant back. They placed their hands behind them on the ground, widening their legs and exposing their slits. They lifted their hips, rising on bent legs until they held their groins as high as they could. The flogger was raised and dropped in practise.

  Sappho panted, her eyes wide, her mouth gaping.

  The flogger was raised again and this time it was brought down forcefully onto Calliope's buttocks. It hit with a thud. The only signs of its inflicted pain were the slight sign of increased muscular tension in Calliope's buttocks, and the spray of oil driven off her skin by the impact. It came down again, another thud, another twinge of increased tightness, another spray of oil. And again, and again.

  The next man was ordered forward. He flexed the double-tailed quirt. Wang smoothed his hand across Calliope's buttocks, wiping the oil around them, ensuring they were covered completely. He nodded, and without any preparation, the man brought the crop down fiercely. Its two tails snatched through the air and, hard and unbending, they fell on Calliope's buttocks with two quickly snapping smacks. Calliope tightened all over. Sappho could see her agony. She could tell the pain was great, was hard to bear, was filling her with fear of more. The quirt swept down repeatedly. The spray of oil this time sharper, penetrating the air in a fine fan of golden glitter.

  The naked girls pushed their hips high, gyrating. They balanced back on one hand, using the other to massage themselves. With stretched fingers they opened their soft flesh, exposing themselves, giving themselves to the eyes of all those that watched, absorbing the men's stares, feeding on their delight.

  The man with the quirt stepped back and was replaced by the one with the cane. He lifted his knee and flexed the cane over it, showing how it bent, how it would snap against its victim, how it would deliver its pain. Again Master Wang came forward and ran his hand across Calliope's buttocks. This time he called for more oil and a full jug had to be emptied until he was satisfied. It poured between her reddened buttocks, down the insides of her legs and settled in golden pools around her feet.

  The crowd was still silent but now Calliope's panting could be heard, shallow and repetitive. The cane came down for the first time in a long slash. It cut across Calliope's buttocks and she screamed out loudly; a piercing scream. It cut the silence. Then as suddenly as it had begun it stopped, and her panting continued. The cane came down again and she screamed again. The thrashing continued, each cutting blow accompanied by an increasingly shrill screech of pain.

  Sappho opened her knees some more. She looked around and saw the mass of faces staring down at the spectacle before them. She imagined all those eyes on her and her alone, and opened her knees wider. A draught of cool air spread across her. She stretched her knees as wide as she could.

  The man with the single-tailed whip stepped forward and took the other's place. Sappho looked up as he swept it around in a slow circle above his head. Her stomach filled with anxiety at the sight of it, but she could not take her eyes from it. It threatened so much pain and the fear it generated fed her increasing excitement. She struggled to free her arms but still it was impossible, and the frustration fed her desires even more. She tightened her buttocks, and could feel the wetness of her sex around her throbbing clitoris.

  The man with the whip paraded around Calliope, spread on the boulder. He pulled the whip back slowly to shoulder height then threw his hand forward. The long leather tail curled lazily in pursuit, stretching forward as the motion quickened. When it reached the end it cracked with an alarming snap. A coil of smoke rose from its tip as it settled to the ground. Each time he snapped it, each time it cracked, each time the coil of smoke rose from its burning tip Sappho grew more impatient, more in need. She did not know how to contain her craving to release her pent-up desire. She was desperate to feel her fingers between her thighs, desperate to feel her clitoris pinched between her finger and thumb.

  Calliope screeched when the whip cracked across her buttocks. It caught her precisely at the moment the looping curl unfolded. The suddenly released energy snapped the final shredded tassel of leather so ferociously that it burned. It cut Calliope's taut skin, inflicting a pain so deeply into her that when she opened her mouth to scream no sound came out. The only sound to be heard was her rapid panting. The rhythm was broken by a second snap of the whip. Again she could not scream; she was too filled with pain. Her panting became louder and when a third cut into her blended into one long hiss.

  Sappho was transfixed. She twisted from side to side, struggling to get her hands free, struggling to relieve the desires that centred deep in her core. Battling to squeeze her shoulders so that her arms might come free, the tension of her captivity only increased her need. She stretched her fingers pointlessly, flexing them rhythmically, mirroring the throbs that pulsated in her sex. She fell sideways, her legs wide apart. Everything felt confused. She struggled to get herself up, but with her arms bound across her chest it was impossible. She kicked at the sand, trying to find a foothold. She closed her eyes tight and rolled onto her back. She listened for the sound of the whip, but it had stopped. Its absence exposed the total silence. All Sappho could hear was her own panting breath. She froze, afraid to move, then as though she had been commanded, she opened her eyes. Wang was standing over her.

  She looked around. Everyone was staring at her. She was completely exposed. The whipping had stopped. She had become the centre of everybody's attention. A wave of joy spread over her, but before she had taken another hurried breath it was joined by fear.

  'Bring her here!' screamed Calchas. 'She will be the reason Apollo forgives us!'

  She was grabbed and dragged to the boulder. They flung her down on the sand. Her mouth was filled with it and she choked. They released Calliope from the altar. They undid her wrists and ankles and she fell to the side. Sappho looked into her face, tearstained and dirty. They hauled her to her feet and Sappho stared at the red stripes on her buttocks. The sight of them inflamed her passion. She looked around. Within the square described by the boats, on the four boats themselves, and beyond them in the dunes, men were packed. They all stared at only her. She opened her legs slightly, testing out the feeling. She was rewarded with a surge of delight.

  They dragged her to her feet. They released her arms and straight away she drove her hands between her legs. They tried to pull them away, but she would not let them. She spat and screamed and felt the rising tide of her ecstasy brimming nearer to the surface. She was on the brink of her rapture, holding her breath, waiting to release it with a scream of joy, but they would not let her.

  They dragged her hands away and flung her down across the boulder. They held her pressed against it. She was shocked by the coolness of it. The pressure they used to force her down took her breath away. They tied her by the wrists in the same way as Calliope. When they pulled the rope tight at her wrists she felt the heavy pressure on her chest. When they secured her ankles and pulled them she felt the exposure of her buttocks and her sex to all that were gathered around to watch.

  She lifted her buttocks as much as she could. She was making herself ready. She had watched the thr
ashing of Calliope and expected the same. She knew the first touch of the cane, or the whip or the flogger, would release her tension, would allow the ecstasy her body was craving. She opened her mouth and felt herself panting like Calliope. She stopped and listened. There was absolute silence, just like before. She let herself pant again, and squirmed her buttocks. She felt the tension squeezing the moist flesh of her cunt. She did not know how much she would have to suffer. She tensed and lay still, gasping quickly. The beating of her heart quickened as the silence filled her mind.

  The naked girls lifted their hips higher as Calchas moved close behind her. Their cunts glistened in the flickering light, their smooth stomachs forming a flat platform between their nubile hips. Their breasts flattened against their chests as they bowed back their bodies. Their smooth-shaven heads, ringed with crowns of yellow flowers, glittered in the shimmering light of the surrounding torches and lanterns. The look of yearning on their faces revealed their ecstasy.

  Sappho waited for the first blow, but it did not come. She felt the presence of Calchas behind her. A darkness passed before her face. She opened her eyes. Something was being passed over her. It was a sheep's fleece. They carried it above her head then laid it over her back. The soft suede of the inside made her shiver as it fell against her skin. Its length covered her buttocks and came up over her back as far as her shoulders. Immediately, she felt its warmth and tasted its animal smell on her wet lips.

  Still she waited for the first blow to fall, but still it did not come. She felt someone pressing between her thighs. She could not see him, but she knew it was Calchas. She felt the long fleece against the insides of her thighs. He pressed closer and she felt the warmth of his cock against her wet slit. There was no need for any pressure, the throbbing mass of his glans simply slipped between the petals of her labia. He held it there for a moment, raising his hands and turning his ram's head mask up towards the starlit sky. Sappho clenched her teeth, feeling her own joy at last untethered. He pressed his cock deep. Thick and throbbing it drove inside her, penetrating. She felt its pulsating surface and the pulsing glans, but that was all. Her orgasm flooded over her, her eyes rolled and she started convulsing with a release of all that had been too long held in. Her head reeled giddily and everything around her spun out of control.

  The silence was broken. A great roar went up as the soldiers joined in a noisy chant. The beach throbbed with it. They beat their fists on their chests, or swords against shields. It was a monstrous cacophony. Sappho's head whirled with it and her body convulsed in time with Calchas' thrusting and the oscillating cry from all who were gathered there.

  She felt the burst of Calchas' hot semen inside her and felt it dribbling away as he drew his cock out. She grimaced with joy as he drove it straight into her anus. She could not stop a fresh wave of jerking ecstasy overtaking her as again he filled her with semen. She felt him again in her cunt, or again in her anus, she was not sure. As it continued she realised less. The noise filled her head, but drifted away as though she was dreaming. In the end she did not know how many took her, how many filled her, how many drenched her with their semen.

  The soldiers dispersed. They climbed down from the boats and walked away from the dunes. The captive women were led away. Calliope had her ankles bound by leather straps with a long lead attached. She was dragged away, her buttocks reddened, her flesh covered in sand which stuck to her sweat. The naked girls left hand in hand, bending to pick up coins. Sappho was left tied to the altar, the ram's fleece still covering her back, her buttocks upturned, semen running from her and down the insides of her thighs. Praxis bent to smooth his hand across her buttocks before Master Wang led him away. Calchas was the last to leave, walking silently between the boats. He nodded slowly as he assured himself that everything had been done to bring an end to the terrible pestilence bestowed on them by Apollo.

  Chapter 14

  Agamemnon claims Sappho

  All the efforts of the Greeks came to nothing. The plague continued; pangs of hunger turned to pains of starvation, apprehension turned to raw fear, confusion turned to desperation. Some of the soldiers banded together and sailed home, some deserted into the hills. Fourteen deserters were captured and hanged from ropes dangled from a ship's oars. One of them survived for two days before he finally died, still calling out for his home. The army of Agamemnon had lost its will to fight. The Greek expedition against Troy seemed doomed to failure.

  A meeting of the chieftains was called. A space was cleared and heavy chairs laid out in the shadow of one of the great boats on the beach.

  Agamemnon arrived with his retinue. Chryseis was still wearing the iron collar and was led on a chain pulled by a large-nosed dwarf. She hung her head low. She was fearful of incurring Agamemnon's displeasure, falling foul of which had already led to regular beating and humiliation. The day before, when she had glanced at him in a way he thought insolent, she had been made to suck the dwarf's cock and drink his semen. She stopped too soon and Agamemnon flew into a rage. She was beaten with a thin cane and forced to drink the last drops.

  Achilles followed with Ajax. Sappho, wearing only a short skimpy vest, with her hands bound behind her back, was made to kneel at Achilles’ feet. Praxis was led in by Master Wang and stood behind his protector, Ajax. Praxis brought a small group of slaves including Calliope and Eva. Calliope stood close to him and pawed at his cock as he stood looking blindly around.

  Agamemnon settled into a chair and spread his hands wide on the claw-shaped arms.

  'Achilles, there has been never-ending trouble for us since your last raid on Troy. What is to be done?' he asked with a heavy sigh.

  'I cannot control the work of the gods, my lord,' said Achilles sternly. 'It is the evil hand of Pelador, the Trojan priest of Apollo, that has brought this scourge upon us.'

  'I grant that is at the root of it,' said Agamemnon, sitting forward. 'But there is more. You have not been attentive to the rumours that fill the camp, Achilles. Some say that the ritual performed by Calchas was a mockery. That it was thwarted by the presence of the Trojan woman you captured. Some even say it is this woman herself who brought the plague.'

  'Which woman is this, my lord?' asked Achilles tersely.

  'The woman you call your "prize". It is said she has the better of you. It is said she carries the plague with her. It is said she works with the gods against us all, and that you cannot control her. It is said she plots behind your back, and you are powerless to defend yourself against her treachery. It is said you harbour the very evil which threatens to destroy us. What do you say, lord Achilles? Do you protect a viper?'

  Sappho was filled with fear. She could not believe she was being talked about like this. That the great king, Agamemnon himself, was accusing her of such things. And as she saw Achilles' anger boiling inside him she could not believe her lord's rage was because of her. She shivered, seized with anxiety and apprehension.

  Achilles stood and looked around angrily at all those gathered. He could barely contain his fury.

  'Who is it that says these things? Who speaks against Achilles like this? Let him show himself!'

  He peered accusingly at everyone. No one spoke.

  'Lord Achilles,' said Agamemnon, still sprawling back in his seat. 'The answer is simple. You should show us that your prize is none of these things. That she is under your control. Even as I look at her now I see the curse of betrayal in her eyes.'

  Sappho dropped her head and stared at the ground. She knew all eyes were on her. She flushed with fear and shuffled her feet pointlessly as the dread of what was happening took hold of her.

  Achilles furrowed his brow, unused to being challenged even by the king. He resented being put to the test like this. His natural conviction was to challenge and fight but, even consumed with rage, he steered the sensible course. He turned to his trusted comrade.

  'Ajax!' he barked. 'Have you heard these rumours? Let our king know he has been misinformed!'

  Ajax looked to th
e king and nodded slowly. He turned back to Achilles.

  'I have, my lord. I have heard these things spoken. They are worth heeding.'

  'So even you, my friend Ajax, turn against me. Very well. I will show you all that this is nothing but the gossip of old women.'

  Sappho shrank back as he approached. She had never seen such anger. His teeth were set tightly together, his broad mouth snarled, his muscular frame was tense, his long hair flowed behind as if he faced a terrible storm.

  He grabbed her bound wrists and dragged her into the open forum at the centre of the cleared space. She stood just beyond the shadow of the ship. She squinted against the bright sun.

  'I will show you who commands my prize!' Achilles shouted. He looked skywards. 'And I will show the gods that not even they can better the mighty Achilles!'

  He pushed Sappho to the ground. She rolled several times, unable to stop herself because of her bound hands.

  'Look!' mocked Agamemnon. 'Already, she escapes your grasp! Achilles, this "prize" has you by the nose!'

  Achilles flushed with fury.

  He took a knife from his belt and held it above Sappho. He paused, then slashed the leather strap that held her wrists. He pulled her up by her hair and lifted her off the ground. He dangled her in front of Agamemnon and the chieftains.

  'I will show you that my prize is nothing unless Achilles commands her!' he ranted.