Silvana's Quest

by Caroline Swift

  It was well past the setting of the moon when she awoke. Thanon lay dozing beside her, his hand motionless between her thighs. How right he had been to have chosen this cream of the crop rather than the equally gifted Odile, whom had been sent to the prisons.

  After being sodomized towards morning, Silvana was returned to her work, obliged to wear a long silk cloak to conceal her behind, welted purple and slick with unguents.

  The days and nights passed agreeably enough, an increasing number of courtiers gracing the refurbished brothel. But still there was no sign of those females she awaited. Each time she stripped and put on her chains to cross over the cooling sands in the direction of Thanon's retreat, she scrutinized the upward path, only to be frustrated. Was it possible her master's request, he being now retired, no longer carried the same weight with the Elders?

  Then, one evening at nightfall, thunderclouds gathering over the Mestrian hills, the cook let out a shrill cry, pointing to the crest. About to present herself to her owner again, Silvana stopped in her tracks and stared. Although still distant, the straggling line of bodies came clearly into view, stumbling behind Fahdel's stallion, borrowed from his master. Silvana held her breath as she counted the slaves. As far as she could discern there were three figures, stark-naked, their wrists outstretched towards the croup of the guard's mount.

  Almost immediately, she recognized the first two - she would have known Odile and Carmela even had they been shrouded in sacking - and then her heart raced. For, bringing up the rear, was Mila. Silvana would not have mistaken that vixen even in the fires of hell. She rushed to Thanon to announce her triumph. The illustrious one nodded, exempted her from her bout of thrashing and sex, and returned, by the light of the lantern, to penning his reminiscences. He was beginning to regret the comfort and extravagancies of the palace.

  His mistress hastened back to the brothel in excitement to harness herself and display her new authority - not so much to the two who had shared her enslavement but to the repulsive slattern who had made her life a misery. She thought ahead.

  Already she had ensured the brothel table was equipped with chains and she felt Mila would look almost tempting, stretched out upon it. But that would come later...

  When the coffle arrived and Silvana had thanked the guard, she fell into the arms of her two colleagues. Tears of pleasure flowed in plenty before they were swabbed down by Ilka, who had been promoted to the position of a slave handler, and shown their palliasses, leaving them to meet the others. Everyone noticed the newcomers' brand burns - the price of exodus - and which, Silvana realized, probably explained the time it had taken for the transport to arrive.

  No sooner abed than the couple of new arrivals fell asleep. Not so Mila.

  She was given no breathing space or a chance to recover from the march, Silvana ordering the sweating, grime-encrusted body towards the two palm trees. "You can rest there, Mila dear, until we're ready for you." The voice was soft as steel, the look kind as a knife.

  Hauled over to the palms, Mila glared at the beautiful face above the jewelled neck and arms dusted with down. She knew her time had come.

  Exhausted, the slag put up no resistance as Haroun chained her four limbs outspread to the iron links. Relishing the naked X of befouled flesh, chained tight, Silvana enjoyed a moment of pure pleasure, sweet subtleties of revenge playing with the bestial creature's feelings and despair. Noticing with bliss the purple scorching on the lower belly, the slave mistress sauntered round the extended length of nudity, slapping the breasts which, although drawn up by the deltoids, presented ample meat for the quirt - never having had the bitch in the position she was, Silvana had not imagined how tempting they were. She also realized that Mila was the key that would unlock the deepest vaults of vengeance in her; now a dominatrix herself, she would retaliate, stroke by stroke, until she got even with the bitch. If that raised erotic pulsions in Mila, they would remain unrequited. There was to be no joy for the slag.

  The summer night's storm was gathering over Mestria, which she considered most appropriate, Mila being a Mestrian, as well as a monster. The dark clouds were rolling west along the coastal range. So much the better. It would provide a good scenario for a flogging.

  "At least, Mila, my love," - the irony seemed lost on the wretch, "I see you're not going to start fawning and asking for sympathy..."

  "I'm damned if I will, you upstart of a whore..." The reply truly startled the blonde.

  "Well, just let me tell you, sweetheart, that a dark messenger from the gods handed me this whip," she ran the strands over her glove, "and that's what you're going to get, quite apart from other things. As you used to do so generously, before you went too far, I'm going to start on those foul dugs you made me suck, time and time again, until you spewed out your slimy juices down here," she gave the groin a slap. "And you were always one for the breasts, weren't you, Mila, love? As long as they were somebody else's and not yours."

  The six-stranded camel leather flashed in the candlelight and fell, flattening both breasts and pectoral muscles at once, the sweat splattering. And yet, apart from the schlacks resounding from the soft flesh, barely a sound came from the chained nude. Recalling Mila's own habits and despite the palace regulations governing the flaying of udders, Silvana laid on some thirty lashes in unhurried succession until the bulges blazed with livid welts. Astonished by the drab's resistance, she paused, Haroun admiring the blonde's dazzling beauty in the fury of the onslaught. Having brought the twin mounds and teats to the point of shedding blood, she descended to the sunken crater of the belly and branded pubis. Concentrating on the crotch, Silvana saw to it that the tip of the leathers buried into the cunt cleft. Suddenly a strangled yell, held back so long, rent the air, echoing along the beach.

  Haroun came forward with the throat gag and handed it to his mistress, hoping to spare the ears of his master writing on the stoop of his residence. It was odd, he thought, that he was not present to feast on the sight and monitor the flagellation.

  Silvana grabbed Mila's chin, "Open those coral lips, my little pet, and those pearly teeth. Remember doing this to me?" The eunuch smiled as the stopple was jammed into the throat. At least it reduced the yelling. He wondered how much more punishment the mean whore - he knew Mila well - could take as the scourge began to mark the buttocks that quivered like jelly after each stroke. Silvana worked up from the underhang of meat to the stretch curving from the coccyx and then, after dozens of lashes, slammed down directly into the anal crack. Haroun could not take his eyes off the vivacious flogger's own rear as it tensed when her arm descended with the full weight of her body behind each stroke. As to the blubbering victim, he noticed most of the sand and dirt had been whipped off. Little pleased Haroun more than the sight of a pair of slave buttocks squelching under leather - and these belonged to a vicious, conceited, brutal slag.

  Perspiring equally freely, the Mistress of Zahra abruptly stayed her hand, a little disconcerted by the trollop's high pain threshold. Then, grieving and seething, the body slumped with a muffled groan and hung, vanquished.

  "She will hang there for the night, Haroun," Silvana announced, breathless.

  "Yes, mistress. But she hasn't eaten..."

  "She will remain and fast where she is. I want to see how she looks in daylight, before feeding. Then I'll cane her, as she used to cane us before meals were served."

  "As you wish, mistress."

  About to walk away to strip and report to her master, she halted. "Tomorrow, Haroun, after I've given her another thrashing, between the thighs this time, take her down and attach her to that stump over there, on a good length of chain." Recalling her own ordeal at the hand of Menthif's whores, she motioned with a jerk of her chin towards the firmly-planted post on the other side of the house. "There she can be watered and fed - and whipped. Make sure, trusty Haroun, her neck's firmly strapped and clamped, her wrists trussed behind
her. I want her totally at my mercy from now on. I'm going to whittle her down."

  Surprised at the beauty's command of terms, the turbaned one bowed. The new overseer of Zahra was something to be reckoned with, having learnt the hard way herself.

  Before the long retaliatory punishment had finished, the menacing storm had broken over the hills and the deluge descended. The blessed downpour, sent by Bracon, the deity of waters, bent the palm fronds and soaked the brothel roofing. Wishing she had never been a slave handler, Mila was left to marinate, rain splashing over her welts. At least, under the rain, the flies no longer plagued her.

  Silvana felt deliciously satisfied, feeling her inner thighs wet with warm discharge. Stripping off, she crossed the beach towards her master's residence. She was absolutely ready for something similar, if less nerve-shattering, to be inflicted on her by Thanon. Only there, the orgasms she had denied Mila would be hers. She could barely wait to surrender herself to her owner's tawse and cock. She hoped he would blindfold her and spread her really wide.

  By the time the next moon was born, the courtiers' frequentation of Zahra had grown and few of the visits were solely for reasons of repose and health; particularly, Silvana noticed, more and more women came to assuage their unrequited lust, and many were highly proficient with the whip. She wished she had more well-membered youths - like Pervez, unfortunately retained by the palace - to meet the demand. However, one of her two male slaves she had inherited, who answered to the name of Bastian, was a lithe, well-knit lad with a splendid penis and hefty balls. A promising object, he erected promptly, fucked competently and never complained at the tightness of his chains. But he required, in Silvana's opinion, further rigorous training and, when she had a moment, she would attend to him, at the same time giving Ilka some useful hints. As to the depraved Crassos, he responded tolerably well.

  At times, almost all the lodgings along the beach were occupied and she found herself hard put, particularly after sundown, to provide ready flesh. Frequently, the entire complement of inmates, now eight in number with the overworked Odile, Carmela and Ilka, had to labour late into the night in the main room, the windowless cells or outside, some being taken to the guest houses for private sessions. Mila alone was reserved for Silvana and declared unavailable for normal service.

  As the visitors brought with them their own servants, the two kitchen serfs, when not at the stoves, were more or less available to assist Silvana and Haroun with preparing and chaining the slaves in accordance with guests' requirements, some of the bondage positions even surprising the mistress herself. Then there was also the visitors' lust to be contended with but despite the continual coaxings - for some remembered her from her slave days - the blonde mistress of ceremonies remained aloof, although at times sorely tempted by a guest who was young, muscular and equipped with a fine, circumcised cock, a refinement she appreciated. In any event, such enticements were out of the question, Thanon reserving her for himself.

  The slaves' physical condition had improved to a degree that rendered some of them almost attractive, Ilka for one and a well-breasted slut by the name of Lithysia, together with the two males whose shafts, after Silvana's attentions and massages, stiffened into cudgels and spurted to order. Above all, Odile, with the debauched nights she spent in Silvana's bunk, had regained her former beauty, the effects of her being chained and continually raped in the prisons and the sudden branding dwindling daily. Moreover, unlike the sluggish Carmela, she was more in love than ever with her gorgeous rescuer, whom she herself had in the past nurtured so assiduously in the Slave Quarters. Fortune's wheel had turned full circle.

  With Carmela, it was different. The tawny-skinned peasant girl remained silent and stoical. She had lost considerable weight under the whip and sex tortures at the palace, yet her body remained agreeably plump but more manageable and sensitive to Silvana's caresses and tonguing. The breasts and broad hips still matched the volume of the buttocks but, when she walked, the opulences swayed far more enticingly than before. The beatings had clearly invigorated her and, when Silvana brought her off in her bunk, the girl orgasmed irresistibly, her outflow tasting of the village bowers and milking sheds.

  Overworked, Silvana found herself torn between, on the one hand, organizing sessions of sex, whipping and erotic torture for the guests, and on the other, her allegiance to the Master of Zahra, which entailed similar moments - except that it was she who was hung by the wrists or ankles, crouched over the Arab saddle or splayed out on the bed, climaxing as if her last moment had come. Without those sessions, she felt she would waste away. Yet, she managed to separate the two ecstasies without too much difficulty. In fact, she could not say which she enjoyed more - exercising her prerogatives in the busy brothel or being used by Thanon. It was the veteran Haroun who told her what she was, as they sat one evening on the beach, the sea breeze lifting and playing among her golden locks.

  "I admire you, mistress. Not only are you one of the most beautiful and sexually endowed women" - she thought he was about to mention Gerda as another - "I have ever had the pleasure to serve and I have had dealings with many, but you are both a zealous dominatrice and a perfect submissive. This is rare."

  She put her arm round the man's bare shoulder, watching the sun merge with the sea.

  "I am what I am, Haroun. I cannot do without sex - in whatever form. Do you think I'm right to punish that harlot Mila? My hatred is so great, you see..."

  "Why not? You are mistress here and she is a slave. You are right to take revenge on her and your great master has no objection. But she is accustomed to the straight whippings you give her." He paused as the last rind of the orange globe sank over the horizon. "My humble opinion is that you and your two companions - for they too deserve revenge - should discipline her differently tonight, and tomorrow organize a full session in the house, inviting the resident nobles. There you and your colleagues could use the flesh implements."

  Silvana looked at the man a moment, her eye agleam. "You're right, dear Haroun. Only, I've never used such instruments. I'm not Damiana or Saroya."

  "But, maybe, you should learn. What more could you want than a slave who deserves them and, also, who hates you? It would also offer your two colleagues a chance to get even with her. If I were you, I would seize the chance and I'd be pleased to instruct you and your friends in, say, a preliminary session tonight. It would go a long way to recompensing all three of you." He paused again. "However, tomorrow you should not stretch her between the palms but chain her to the Table of Penance within." The turban motioned towards the brothel. "Thus, the courtiers can be seated to watch while making use of the slaves." With that, he rose, leaving the girl to deal with her swollen clitoris and take her decision. To the rear of the beach the bats flittered in the warm air of the gloaming.

  Her mind made up, Silvana summoned her trusted pair of colleagues to tell them they had two evenings of pure pleasure before them, evenings that would serve as reparation.

  Barely awake, the two emerged into the glow of the lantern, followed by the eunuch carrying the tools. Informed of what was about to take place, both females came to life, Carmela even offering a smile.

  It took only an instant to release the dormant Mila from the stake and another to have the sleek body stretched out between the palm trunks. Her struggles proved ineffectual, three pairs of hands subduing her. In silence, the three women stared at their victim until Haroun handed to the two newcomers a rigid double-ended dildo and helped each to strap the device into place. Odile thrilled as the near portion of the phallic artifice slid smoothly up her vagina, the raised knurl kneading the clitoris when the gold-filigreed leather triangle tightened over the sex. The eunuch buckled the thongs, Carmela working her thick fist comically up and down the second length of the shaft embedded in her, as if she had worn one all her life.

  Both slaves seemed to relish the chance offered them and were impatient to begin. At a
sign from his mistress, the man passed to Carmela a pair of flat-nosed tongs, not unlike those she used when castrating bullocks at the farm. The sturdy one looked at the instrument and then at Mila's breasts and neat labial folds. In turn, Odile shivered with excitement, a sweet thrill of erotic pleasure gathering in her entrails, as she was provided with a handful of flesh needles, Silvana quite aware the sable-haired beauty, now restored to health, needed no guidance as to their use; Odile had certainly received more jabs from courtiers, overseers and probably from Mila than the number of days of her captivity.

  "Would you wish to have the breasts throttled, mistress?" the eunuch asked Silvana, at which Odile nodded eagerly, aware how smoothly a bodkin entered tight, braided flesh. Carmela, however, frowned, wanting the bubs flaccid when her turn came; for when up at the palace she was summoned for punishment, hers had always been limp and malleable for torture and piercing. But sensing she would be given a free hand to do what she wished with the minx's sex labia, she looked on resigned as Haroun grabbed each bulge in turn and wound the catgut several times round the root. Mila let out a long, miserable moan as he tied it off.

  "Shouldn't she be flogged first, Haroun?" Silvana asked, her beloved six-thong burning in her grasp.

  "It's as you wish, mistress. Indeed it would help to fan the fire in the slut and bring up the blood to just below the surface. But in that case and considering what you have in mind for her tonight - as well as tomorrow, I suggest you gag her first. As this is by way of being a rather private session, we don't want her yells to disturb the guests and, above all, our gracious master in his dwelling over there."