Innocent

by Aishling Morgan

  Listening, straining her ears for noises of pursuit, she waited, hearing nothing, seeing nothing. One moon swung into the sky, then another, both nearly full, bathing the rooftops in dull pewter and laying silver trails across the sea. Still there was nothing, and then, looking back along the shore, she saw the red flare of torchlight on the esplanade, moving her way. A lump rose in her throat as excited voices carried across to her, along with the urge to run blindly into the night. She fought it down, sure her only chance was to lie low instead of blundering through the dark.

  Presently the torches disappeared behind the bluff, still moving along the shore. Straining her ears, Cianna watched the point where she had ascended the cliff. Nothing happened, her hope rising slowly, only to collapse as she caught a movement in the old garden beneath her and Glaucum trotted casually out of the bushes.

  He came straight to the tree, looking up, his big eyes reflecting the moonlight. She looked down in dismay, realising he must simply have taken her scent on the air, not even troubling to attempt to follow the broken trail. He sat down, a shadow blacker than black, save for his eyes, and a pale shape that she realised was the tip of his cock emerging from his prepuce. She swallowed hard, knowing full well that he would wait until others came up, or possibly try and give the alarm.

  There was no escape. People would come up, dozens, maybe hundreds, with torches to light the scene. One way or another they would force her down from the tree, where she would be fucked, kneeling on the lawn, to the sound of their laughter and betting calls.

  A sudden realisation hit her, a way to defy Jelkrael, if not to avoid her fate. It was humiliating, agonisingly so, but less so than what was going to happen otherwise. She looked down in Glaucum’s eyes, and with a strong catch in her she spoke to him.

  ‘You want to fuck me, I suppose?’ she said quietly.

  He tilted his head to one side, another inch of cock emerging from his prepuce. He’d do it, she was sure, then and there, whatever she did. He was always playful, but his cock seemed permanently ready. With a sigh of utter resignation she began to climb down the tree. His interest increased, looking up at the view between her legs as she swung herself down.

  She reached the ground and Glaucum growled, staring at her, his teeth just visible.

  ‘There’s no need for that,’ Cianna chided. ‘You can do me. Now.’

  She got carefully to her knees, fighting down the agonising shame inside her. He move closer, sniffing, as she got onto all fours, her bottom lifted and her knees set apart, her sex on show. Glaucum hesitated. Cianna wiggled her bottom.

  ‘Come on, fuck me. I’m ready.’

  He moved close, pressing his face to hers, pulling back to trot round her. She closed her eyes, her bottom lifted high. She felt his skin, warm and hairy, the pressure of his nose, pushed into the hole of her sex, his tongue, lapping up her abundant juices. She sighed, unable to resist the pleasure, nearly coming as he licked at her sex.

  Suddenly he was on her, jumping up, his coat tickling her back as he mounted her. His cock prodded her sex, rubbing up her clitoris, and she gasped, burying her face in the grass in a mixture of ecstasy and shame. Again it prodded, and then it was in her, up her, invading her vagina, starting to move, fucking her with short, hard thrusts. Immediately she was whimpering and crying into the grass, her mind burning with shame, her pleasure too great to be denied.

  His legs closed on her body, his mouth took her gently by the neck, and she was being fucked, in full style, a mounted bitch, a bitch who had crawled to her mate, flaunted her sex for his cock. Hardly knowing what she was doing, she found she had reached back for her sex. Briefly she touched the swollen shaft in her hole, then began to masturbate. As she rubbed she concentrated on the feel of the cock in her hole, and of his long coat against her buttocks, tickling her. There was a constant image of how she must look in her mind, her pale curves, quite bare, with his black body on top of her, humping her in glee.

  She cried out as she came, so far gone that she was wishing the others had come up, to watch her fucked like a bitch on heat, on all fours with Glaucum pumping away into her sex. She was thinking of their laughter, and of how shocked Babalyn would have been, of how Yuilla would have relished the sight. At that her ecstasy broke, and she sank down, squashing her face and breasts to the grass in abject shame for her behaviour.

  For a moment there was nothing but burning humiliation, but Glaucum kept pumping merrily away, riding her bottom without the slightest thought for her emotions. She took it, knowing full well he’d only let her go once he’d finished, and before long she was masturbating again.

  In the half-hour it took Glaucum to fuck her properly, Cianna lost count of the number of times she came. He kept moving, his cock prodding deep into her body, but it was the way swollen base of his penis filled her vagina that made it impossible to stop masturbating. She was full of cock, being fucked on her knees, her bottom turned up to his beastly attention, and it would not stop. Again and again she found herself rubbing at her clitoris, to come with a gasp of rapture. Each time, the climax was followed by a great burst of shame, but within minutes she’d be doing it again, rubbing at her sex with her whole mind focused on what was up her hole, on what was on her back.

  When he finally lost interest, pulling back to leave her with his sperm dribbling from her open hole, she felt only regret that her half-hour of fucking was over. Exhausted, drained of both strength and emotion, she collapsed onto her side. He came round, taking her wrist very gently in his mouth and pulling. She responded, sitting up to stroke his neck, at which he let go.

  ‘Later,’ she said softly, ‘for now, I need to be very sure of something.’

  Moving her hands to his stomach, she eased him onto his back. He went, unresisting and she went down, kissing the firm, hairy flesh of his belly, then his cock. He gave a whimper of pleasure as she started to suck, swallowing down the salt and musk of his penis, along with the taste of her own juice. With one hand massaging his balls and the other gently masturbating him, she worked him into her mouth, sucking and swallowing what came out, until at last there was nothing to come.

  Cianna sat back, wiping her mouth, feeling dirty, satisfied, also proud. She had fought, defying Jelkrael, denying him his pleasure too, if not Glaucum. For a moment she wondered if escape might not still be possible. The pursuers appeared to have continued along the shore, while Glaucum seemed both somnolent and trusting, watching her, but with no malice. He would stay with her, she was sure, but whether he would prevent her going where she wanted was another matter.

  Then again, she considered, in Makea she stood out in a way that made concealment almost impossible. With her white skin, her red hair and her height, she was instantly recognisable, and would be all the more so with Glaucum beside her. She would be caught, and punished, probably in the way Jelkrael had described, tied for the amusement of an entire town.

  Yet if she simply returned to the wagons, she could explain that Glaucum had caught her and herded her back before she’d had a chance to hide. She might still get strapped to the saddle, but of one thing she was certain, which was that Glaucum would not be ready to play his part for some time. Alternatively, she could wait for other men to come up with her, but it was impossible to predict what they would do, except that it would almost certainly involve her sexual debasement. Realising that there was no sensible choice, Cianna got up and began to walk back into Ioto, Glaucum padding beside her.

  Chapter Five

  Cianna lay face down in the wagon, her chin in her hands, barely awake. For two days they had ridden the wagons, from Ajad, a small sea port at the mouth of a river, through dense jungle and lush water meadows, moving slowly across a narrow neck of land towards Kea, the capital. In Ajad there had been a resident champion at the local pit, and Cianna had beaten her in a fair fight, her twelfth victory in a row.

  Since the night she had run from Jelkrael her reputation had steadily grown, as had her ability to act as the savage th
e audiences wanted her to be. She now wore her body paint almost constantly, and did it herself, in the swirling patterns typical of Aeg art, to create a look that the earliest of those ancestors whose teeth she wore would have considered ancient and barbaric. The paint also seemed to protect her skin from the sun and made her feel marginally less naked, for which she was grateful.

  With twelve victories to her name, Jelkrael had decided that he would make the most money by letting her challenge Moloa, the champion. With Cianna’s reputation the gate was sure to be good, while Cianna had refused to lose on purpose, challenging Jelkrael to do his worst to her. He had tied her to the saddle and let Glaucum have her, but she had still refused. No threat he had been able to make had moved her, while it was plain that as strict as he might be he was not prepared to kill her. In the end he had given in, earning her grudging admiration even from Yuilla.

  It was hard not to feel proud, while the fact that she was technically a slave seldom entered her head. Perhaps once a week Jelkrael would tie her to the saddle and fuck her from the rear, but more for the sake of variety than any desire to stamp his authority on her. In the same way Yufal, when he was with the wagons, stuck largely with Klia and would only occasionally demand Cianna’s attention, or that the girls play together as he watched. Aside from that, she slept with Babalyn, curled together beneath a warm blanket, usually after licking each other to ecstasy.

  On the bad side, Yuilla was still resentful, although after being repeatedly beaten and fucked in front of hundreds upon hundreds of gleeful spectators, she seldom did more than taunt. Worse than that, there was not so much as a hint of Sulitea and Aeisla, making Cianna wonder if they had in fact died in the mountains and that she might be truly alone. Despite these fears, she had continued to keep her ears open for information about the black powder, but had learnt nothing.

  There was a river beside the road, a broad expanse of brown water, moving sluggishly through thick reed beds. Cianna had been watching it, idly considering the splashes made by jumping fish and the evil looking black-green reptiles that lurked at the water’s edge. Beyond was jungle, and to their left, which again bore watching, with the occasional small ape appearing among the branches or the flash of plumage from some brightly coloured bird.

  Abruptly the jungle on the far side of the river gave way, to a broad meadow, from which a great sluice emptied water into the stream. Beyond, set well back and well apart from each other, stood four high buildings of grey stone. Two also showed towering chimneys, and each was surrounded by a high walled coumpound.

  ‘Julac Powdermills, Cianna,’ Klia said suddenly from the edge of the wagon, where she was sitting. ‘Your pet terror.’

  Cianna lifted her head higher in sudden interest. A rank scent caught her nose, with notes of both dung and rotten eggs. She made a face.

  ‘Smelly, aren’t they?’ Klia said. ‘Imagine being one of the girls there, with that pong to wake up to everyday.’

  ‘Revolting,’ Cianna agreed. ‘What is it? Dung, and it smells like bad eggs, or those magic sticks Jelkrael uses to light his cigars.’

  ‘Magic sticks!’ Yuilla taunted. ‘What a barbarian! They are only splints tipped with brimstone, which burns when rubbed over coarse rock, or a badly shaved cunt. When Moloa has beaten you, she will do that, you know, and smoke her cigar with your tongue up her arsehole!’

  ‘Don’t be a beast, Yuilla,’ Klia chided.

  ‘What is brimstone then?’ Cianna demanded, ignoring Yuilla.

  ‘The yellow stuff on the end of fire splints, like I said, stupid,’ Yuilla responded.

  ‘And it is used in the powdermills, to make black powder?’ Cianna asked.

  Klia shrugged.

  ‘There was a girl I knew in Ketawa,’ Yuilla said. ‘Who could smoke a cigar with her cunt.’

  ‘I think we have all had Jelkrael’s cigar up our holes,’ Klia replied.

  ‘No,’ Yuilla said, ‘I don’t mean just stick it up and let a little puff of smoke out later. She could draw the smoke in, even blow out smoke rings. I always thought it would make a great signature, but you’d have to teach the girls to do it before the fights.’

  ‘True,’ Klia agreed. ‘You’ve got a great signature anyway. I wish I had. Mine’s boring. I want something ruder.’

  ‘Change it,’ Cianna suggested.

  ‘Jelkrael won’t let me,’ Klia protested. ‘He says it’s bad showmanship for a girl to change her signature. Moloa’s is best. Imagine how it would feel, having to lick her fat arse while she has a cigar, and with your cunt shaved!’

  ‘Haven’t you fought her?’

  ‘No. I’ve seen her though. They don’t call her the She Troll for nothing! She looks like one anyway, huge and fat, with no waist and this great square arse. She makes a real show of her signature too. With the girl I saw beaten, Moloa sat on her face while she did the shaving and had the cigar. It took ages, and the poor girl had to lick her arsehole all the time.’

  ‘That’s what you’re going to get, Cianna!’ Yuilla laughed. ‘I can’t wait to see!’

  Cianna shrugged, pretending an indifference she didn’t feel. Everybody seemed to assume that Moloa would beat her easily, so it seemed likely that the woman was simply too huge and too experienced to be overcome. If that was the case she would be beaten, and used in the way that gave Yuilla such delight. Yet to run, or do anything but try her best, seemed a greater dishonour than losing. Ignoring Yuilla’s continued taunts, she pushed Moloa from her mind and watched as the powdermills gradually faded from site. There were four main buildings, each in a separate compound, so if the powder was made in the same way as in Aprinia, one would be for mixing, which left three, presumably for one ingredient each. One came from dung, the other from brimstone.

  An hour later they reached a wide lake, from which the river seemed to spring. The jungle gave back, leaving rich farmland to either side of the water. Beyond the lake was a low ridge, and as they crossed it Cianna found the city of Kea spread out beneath them. It lay on a gentle slope around a bay, a sea of stone buildings set with trees, larger by far than any of the towns she had passed through, and richer.

  ‘Kea,’ Jelkrael declared, turning back from the lead wagon where Babalyn had been giving him his morning suck. ‘You may safely gape in awe, Cianna. There is nothing like it in your homeland, is there?’

  ‘Not that I have seen,’ Cianna answered cautiously, not wishing to admit any hint of inferiority to the Makeans.

  ‘And you, Babalyn?’ Jelkrael continued. ‘Now can you say our civilisation is backward?’

  Babalyn lifted her head, glancing at the city, still with his cock held in her hand.

  ‘How many people live there?’ she asked.

  ‘Over a hundred thousand, so I believe,’ Jelkrael answered.

  Babalyn nodded before speaking. ‘In Opina, our capital, live some nine hundred thousand citizens, but then we have proper sewers.’

  She sniffed the air and quite casually returned to sucking his cock, earning a gentle cuff from Jelkrael. He was smoking, his cigar in one hand, the other going back to rest on Babalyn’s head, just firmly enough to keep her in place. Cianna watched, knowing the gesture from experience.

  Drawing deeply on his cigar, Jelkrael closed his eyes. He blew a smoke ring, his mouth came slowly open, he swallowed hard, grunted and the expression on Babalyn’s face turned briefly from resigned obedience to disgust. She too swallowed, and opened her eyes, still with his cock in her mouth and her cheeks sucked in, looking at Cianna, who giggled.

  ‘Pull in,’ Jelkrael puffed, gently pulling Babalyn off his cock. ‘It is time Yufal went into the city, and we have much to discuss.’

  The two male slaves obeyed the order, steering the oxen to the side of the road, where a stand of high palms provided shade. Cianna jumped down, Glaucum bouncing up to lick her face and rub his cock on her leg. She pushed him away, giggling, and hastily sat down. A rug was spread for Jelkrael and Yufal, who were served wine and a tray of swee
tmeats. The girls gathered round them, sitting cross legged, Cianna with Glaucum’s huge head in her lap, feeding him the sweet biscuits he loved.

  ‘As you see,’ Jelkrael declared, gesturing with his cigar, ‘Kea lies ahead of us. In Kea there is more opportunity for accumulation than in the rest of our land put together. The question, as always, is how to maximise our profits.’

  He drew on his cigar, took a swallow of wine, and continued.

  ‘As you know, I had planned to have built up Yuilla as a prospective challenger by this stage, with a series of thrown fights, then to allow her to be bought, winning on both gate, bribes and betting. Matters have gone somewhat differently, with Cianna’s twelve victories and bizarre appearance providing a reputation that no amount of bought matches could obtain.’

  He grinned at Cianna, who found herself smiling and blushing, only to catch a dirty look from Yuilla.

  ‘In Kea,’ Jelkrael went on, ‘are three pits, these being Faerdahl’s Pit, the Dock Pit, where Moloa is resident, and the Great Pit itself, where the grand spectacles are put on for the Elite and the Exquisites. Now, as Cianna still refuses to throw a contest, the situation is not normal, yet somewhere there is money to be made.’

  ‘There are good wrestlers in Kea,’ Yufal suggested. ‘Against Lia-Gau, or perhaps Ruamana, she might lose anyway, yet with enough rumourmongering I could probably get the odds well in her favour.’

  ‘A possibility,’ Jelkrael answered, ‘but risky. What if Cianna wins? We take one-third of a big gate, yes, and a sixth of what might be a truly magnificent one when she fights Moloa, yet we lose our stake. No, there must be a better way. Cianna, stop playing with Glaucum, you are making him excited.’