Trojan Whores Page 3

  Eva let it flow. It relieved the aching in her tummy. She saw it mixing with the water that flowed down, its golden hue tinting the torrent that filled Calliope's mouth. And she saw Calliope taste it. She saw the moment she recognised its salty tang. She saw Calliope's eagerness increase as she knew she was filling her mouth with Eva's urine. Eva watched Calliope drinking, swallowing as much as she could. She watched her rise up on her toes as, when urine flowed down her arms, her hands and into her cunt, she lifted herself in a sudden, gasping, and uncontrollable orgasm.

  Eva reared back further. With no more urine to flow she was seized with a sudden spasm of pleasure. Her eyes blurred. The spray enveloped her. She fixed the image of Calliope's gaping mouth in her mind. She saw nothing else. She let her own orgasm flow.

  Calliope stared up, letting go of the tension as she was relieved by her orgasm. Eva could see they were sharing their pleasure. Their joy was happening at the same time. They were in tune, in sympathy with each other's ecstasy.

  The water stopped. Eva was lowered from the ropes and dropped to the ground.

  Calliope sprawled forward across Praxis's knees, her buttocks held high and exposed. Praxis ran his hands across the two delightfully curved domes of smooth skin. He pressed down on them. They sprang back when he withdrew the pressure. Calliope drew her face close to his ear. She whispered to him, as a lover would. He smiled and nodded.

  Eva watched them, Calliope licking the bronze armour that adorned his torso, Praxis smoothing his hands across her buttocks. She watched as Calliope responded to his touch, raising and lowering her buttocks, opening her legs, displaying the oval of flesh that lay between them. She saw the glistening ring emerging from the fleshy surrounds, and the glistening moisture that ran in the slit of softness at its centre. She wanted to take Calliope's place. She wanted to lie across his knees. She wanted to feel his hands against her skin. She wanted to feel the weight of them. She wanted to taste the metallic tang on her tongue as she licked the armour. She wanted to seek his cock, to feel its hardness in her hand. She wanted to grip its throbbing length, its lusting thickness. And she wanted him to bring her relief. She wanted him to bring his hand down on her buttocks in punishing smacks. She wanted him to spank her. She wanted to take his cock between her lips, and as she tensed with every blow of his hand she wanted to suck it until his semen filled her mouth.

  Calliope bent down to her. She grabbed her long red hair in a sodden bundle.

  'I think poor Eva has been our victim long enough. Perhaps it is time to show her some mercy, my lord.'

  Praxis settled back in his chair and smiled. 'You are so merciful, my angel,' he said. 'How could I possibly resist any request my angel makes?'

  'Then I would like Eva to become my attendant. She could help bathe me and oil my body. She would be free, of course, and no longer under threat of torture and humiliation.' She let go of Eva's hair and bent on one knee beside her. 'Would you like that, Eva? Could you be my friend? Would you like to bathe me? Would you like to oil my body? Would you like to shave my cunt?'

  Eva thought it was a trick. She looked from side to side suspiciously. She had still not forgotten how she had been deceived by Sappho and Chryseis - their tormenting jeers still rang in her ears. She did not know what to do.

  'Mistress?' she said, as if someone else was speaking for her.

  'Yes?' said Calliope, helping Eva to her feet.

  'Is this true? Can it possibly be true?'

  'Yes, my dear. You have suffered enough. It is true. Come, we have things to do.'

  Chapter 3

  The 'shrinking man'

  Eva was taken to Calliope's tent, a high-roofed octagonal structure made from heavy drapes of white and pink. Young girls attended her. Some had been taken from the Temple of Apollo in raids on Troy, some had been brought from Persia, some from Thebes in Egypt, and some from further south in Africa. Some belonged to Praxis, some had come as gifts, some had been left temporarily by guests, and some tended as payment for debt. All had their heads shorn, their pubic hair shaved, and all were forbidden to wear any clothing. Their bodies were slim and oiled. They were trained in suppleness and athletics each day. Some wore crowns of flowers, some garlands of leaves around their necks. They fussed around Eva inquisitively. They touched her tangled red hair, and ran their hands across her pale northern skin.

  They led her to a large bath, shaped from bronze and set in the centre of the tent. Garlands of white flowers draped its sides, aromatic steam rose from its surface. The giggling girls removed her dirty smock, took her hands and encouraged her up small steps set at the side of the bath. As she entered the warm mist her head was filled with the delightful aroma of oils and fragrances; cedarwood, bergamot, tolu, frankincense and nutmeg. She could hardly believe what was happening.

  One of the girls stood in the bath and took both of her hands.

  'I am Weena, mistress,' she said. 'Come, I will bathe you.' She drew Eva into the warm water. It rose over her body, soft and gentle, cleansing and caressing. She sank into it.

  Weena entwined her arms around Eva. She pressed her own slim body closely against Eva's. She drew her legs up and moved her thighs against Eva's hips.

  'I will cleanse you with my body,' said Weena. 'I have been trained to please.'

  Eva lay back in the water. Weena rubbed her all over with her own body. She coiled around her like a snake. She pressed her stomach against Eva's. She urged her shoulders beneath Eva's armpits. She opened her legs and massaged Eva's breasts with her delightful sex. She raised her buttocks, drew Eva's face between them, and rubbed them against Eva's cheeks. She opened her legs more, bringing Eva's lips against her anus, allowing her to kiss it, lick it, insert her tongue inside it.

  Eva could not stop herself. She had been mistreated for so long. The relief from torture and pain, the sensuality of the warm fragrant water, and the attention of the delectable Weena were overpowering. She wrapped her arms around Weena's hips and lifted her delightful buttocks.

  Weena did not hold back. She opened herself completely. She clung to the side of the bronze bath and pushed herself back against Eva. Her slit, in a soft wet oval of flesh, came against Eva's mouth. Her anus, tight, dark and perfectly formed, pressed against Eva's flaring nostrils.

  Eva inhaled the scent of Weena's body. She pressed her nose against her anus. She slipped the tip of her hungry tongue into Weena's vagina. Weena gripped the edge of the bath tightly, tensing her body, pressing back, wanting to be filled. The curve of her buttocks glistened with the gloss of the sweetly scented water. Steam rose in a mist around them both. Eva's red hair floated in the water. It clung to Weena's thighs in drawn out scarlet tangles. It was as though the water was on fire, as though their passion had set it alight.

  The other girls leant against the bath sides. Some dangled their hands in the water, some stroked Weena's buttocks or touched Eva's hair. One held her fingers tightly in her vagina and sucked the erect nipple of another. One licked between another's thighs. She lapped at it eagerly, her face wet with moisture from the girl. Her cheeks dripped with beads of sweat caused by the steamy heat that rose from the fragrant bath.

  Weena screeched. She thrashed in the water. She set the surface of the bath into a foaming turmoil. Eva would not let her go. She strained her tongue out as far as she could. She delved it into Weena's juicy channel. She licked the soft inner surface, tasting the blend of scented water and Weena's delicious fragrance. She gulped, drinking it in. She lifted Weena higher, delighting in her anus, claiming satisfaction for her appetite. Her inflamed passion was hungry and she fed it eagerly.

  Weena squealed. Bubbles mixed with her cries. Chokes blended with her breathless gasps. She wriggled in Eva's grip, sometimes pulling herself away from Eva's tongue and enjoying the exposure of loss. Sometimes she pressed hard against it and sucked it in as deep as it would go.

  Two of the girls draped themselves over the edge of the bath, their hands between each other's thighs, their fingers
delving into each other. One of the girls sucked the handle of a hairbrush. She dribbled her spit across it in strands before opening her legs and pressing it deep into her naked crack. Another stood above her and urinated on her face. The girl opened her mouth and drank keenly.

  Suddenly the flaps of the tent were flung open. Calliope marched in. As soon as she saw what was happening her face filled with fury.

  She grabbed Weena and pulled her out of the bath. The frightened girl fell to the ground. Her body ran with steaming water as she writhed and clawed for something to bear against. She twisted onto her back and dropped her legs wide open. Her slit glistened with moisture, her anus dilated.

  Calliope angrily took hold of one of her ankles. She dragged her roughly across the tent. Weena's head bounced in the sand, her flowered crown already lost, her safety now in tatters.

  'You are here to give pleasure, not to take it!' shrieked Calliope. 'I will teach you your place. And you will never forget the lesson!'

  Still holding her by the ankles she hauled Weena out of the tent.

  The other girls quickly helped Eva out of the bath. They dabbed her with towels and fussed anxiously with her hair. They were unhappy not to be accompanying their mistress, fearful that inadvertently they might be doing something to inflame her anger.

  'We must follow our mistress,' said one nervously. 'We dare not anger the Lady Calliope more.'

  Eva followed Calliope as she dragged Weena along the covered walkways between the tents. Weena writhed and sobbed but Calliope took no notice.

  Small open stalls lined the walkways. Here soldiers were entertained by slaves in Praxis' thrall. Some of them looked up as Calliope went past dragging Weena. Some could not disguise their surprise at seeing Eva, free and attended by the fussing girls. Some did not notice anything, too involved in the entertainments laid on by Praxis, the blind provider of all perversions.

  One burly soldier, his waist tightly strapped by a broad leather belt, caned a naked woman tied over a saddle. Her buttocks were striped with red lines. Tears poured from her eyes. The man looked around as Eva passed, but turned back straight away to the vicious thrashing. Another, wearing a leather hood with eyeholes, had a slave tied up in a tangle of knotted ropes. She hung on her back, suspended on the ropes, her mouth gagged with a ball, her vagina stuffed with an ebony cudgel. The man held a tallow candle above her breasts. No sound came from her, but her eyes conveyed her silent screams as he dribbled the melting wax onto her nipples. Six soldiers stood around a naked woman. She knelt before them, a bowl in her hand as if begging. They filled it with their copious semen and, when full, she drank it under threats of punishment if she did not.

  Calliope pulled Weena into a circular tent. For a few moments Eva could see nothing; the contrast between the bright light outside and the semi-darkness inside blinding. Slowly her eyes became used to the dimness and she saw the bulk of Praxis forming in the darkness. The spider-like Master Wang hung onto his arm. In front of them, in the centre of the tent, a latticework contraption made of leather and metal. By its side a bath of water and several leather buckets.

  Calliope dragged Weena up to the contraption. 'Meet the "shrinking man",' she said mockingly. 'I think you will come to feel very close to him.' She threw her head back and laughed.

  Praxis stepped forward, holding his hands out, reaching for Calliope.

  'You are angry, my little angel? What has caused this?'

  'This girl, this slave, Weena. She forgot her place. She thought she was allowed to live so she could have pleasure for herself. She forgot she is here only to give pleasure to those she serves. I found her squirming with joy and writhing with pleasure, my lord. Now I want her to taste the joy of constriction. I want her to couple with the shrinking man.'

  Weena tried to pull away, but immediately fell into Praxis' outstretched arms. He grabbed her, enclosing her forearms in his hands.

  'Ah, little Weena, you want a closer look at your new lover, I think.'

  He pushed her forward so that she was forced to stare at the framework of wet leather and metal.

  'I cannot see, but my wayward slave, I can feel.'

  He let go of one of her arms but still held her fast by the other. He ran his free hand across her pert breasts. He felt her hard nipples and pinched them between his finger and thumb.

  'Do you like the feeling of tightness, my little slave?' He reached out to the contraption. He ran his hand across the complex framework. He smiled, pleased by what he felt under his touch.

  'Look, the shrinking man awaits you, little Weena. See how he is shaped to fit your body. See how he has been constructed to lie close against every limb. See how he is wet and ready to clasp his arms around you in the most passionate embrace. Here are the leather bands that will come across your face. And here the metal framework to hold your head in place. Look how he is perfectly shaped to fit your shoulders and back, your breasts and your stomach. Look how his framework is carefully arranged to clamp around your hips and thighs. See how his leather straps are formed in such a way as to tighten into your delicate slit. Think of that, little Weena; imagine the drying leather pulling into your youthful crack, parting it, opening it, cutting into its centre. Yes, little Weena, when the "shrinking man" dries he will clasp you tighter than any lover. He will hold you so tight you will not remember what it is to move your body. You will experience complete stillness. He will have perfect control over you. Then, locked into complete submission, you will know why you are being punished.'

  Weena struggled in his powerful grip, but it was pointless. Her eyes were wide with fear, her face pale with anticipation of what lay ahead. She kicked her feet out and squirmed, but Praxis only laughed.

  'Wang!' he shouted. 'Give the shrinking man a final dousing. We want him to find every curve of his new lover. We want him to fit closely to every part of her nubile body.'

  Wang ordered two soldiers to douse the framework with water from the buckets. He made sure that all the leather was wet. He rubbed his hands gleefully along every length of its complex structure to ensure no part was missed. Water dripped from it as he stood back, satisfied.

  Eva hung back in the shadows. She stood behind a sturdy tent pole, unsure of her place. Seeing the terrible device had suddenly reminded her of the precarious position inhabited by those in thrall to the Greeks. She looked over to Calliope, who looked back and smiled. She relaxed a little. Her naked body was still wet, her red hair hanging loosely around her shoulders. Soldiers moved some torches and their flickering light shimmered across her glistening body.

  She stared at the 'shrinking man' and shivered. She could see its purpose. She could see how its doused and slackened leather would soon dry and tighten around its victim. She could only imagine the pain, the fear, the horror of not being able to move. She shivered at the totality of its irresistible bondage. She licked her lips. A sudden realisation filled her. She felt a wave of relief that no longer was she a slave, no longer was she subject to the will of others, victim of the caprice of her masters. Yet this sense of freedom somehow weakened her. Where servitude had strengthened her, her new feeling of freedom took away her resolve to suffer. She knew that now, even though she had tolerated much as a captive to the Greeks, she could not bear the horror of the 'shrinking man'. She looked again at Calliope, her tall form, her beauty, her smooth skin. Calliope nodded and smiled. Eva felt assured of her new freedom and blessed with the loss of suffering that came with it.

  Weena fought but she could not prevent herself being incarcerated in the 'shrinking man'. The metal frame was opened up and she was forced onto her hands and knees inside it. The leather straps were pulled up tight and the frame closed around her. Her arms and legs were held fast. She could no longer move her slightly bent back. A leather strap pulled up tightly between the lips of her sex and between her buttocks. Her face was laced with the strapping and her head was held firmly in place by the framework. The soldiers doused her with water from the buckets. The heavy splash
es made her gasp. They tightened the wet leather straps as much as they could.

  Weena's mouth gaped, her jaw held firmly. She tried to cry out but could only make a monotone gurgling groan. Her eyes were wide with fear.

  Torches were set in the ground around her. The glistening leather straps and her wet skin shimmered in their light. Slowly the leather began to dry and tighten. Eva saw it pulling against Weena's skin. She saw the strapping digging in, pulling against the frame, binding Weena ever tighter within its bonds.

  Eva pulled herself against the wooden tent pole. The touch of it against her thighs instantly inflamed her. She opened her legs and squirmed against it, opening her flesh, exposing it to the smooth surface. She felt her clitoris hardening at the touch of the unforgiving pole. She pressed, rubbing herself up and down, exposing her clit, hurting it, forcing it with uncomfortable pressure to engorge and throb. Her flesh was wet, it slipped readily against the wood. She did not put her hand down; she wanted to feel the contact directly. She wanted nothing between her squirming wet flesh and the hard smooth timber.

  She could not take her eyes off Weena. She was not moving in any way, held fast by the terrible device of metal and leather. And all the time it was tightening, the leather shrinking. Weena's eyes widened. A trickle of urine dribbled down the insides of her thighs, then in a sparkling shower as it bubbled over the tightening leather strap between her legs.

  Suddenly the flaps of the tent opened. Achilles and Agamemnon strode in. The blinded Ajax, attended by two young girls, followed behind. He sniffed the air. He sensed his enemy, Praxis, the one responsible for his blinding when Calliope had tripped him onto the waiting spears. He turned around sharply. The girls hanging onto his arms were knocked over.

  'My lords,' he said angrily, 'have you brought me into the company of the one who blinded me in order to further my punishment?'