by Syra Bond
Achilles laughed. 'Ajax, it is over. You must let it go. Look, Praxis has something here for our entertainment. A little slave girl is bound within the "shrinking man". Come, feel the tightness of her bonds. Feel her heart pounding. Put your face against the leather straps and feel her panting breath.' He turned to Praxis. 'And what is the poor victim's name?'
'Weena,' said Praxis.
Ajax's face filled with anger. 'She is mine!' he shouted. 'I brought her from Troy! Now this weasel Praxis not only steals my slaves but dares to punish them as well! My lord, I appeal to you. He has already taken my sight. Now he deprives me of my possessions.'
Achilles stepped forward and restrained Ajax.
'It is a slave, my friend. You should not get so attached. I will replace her tenfold.'
Ajax allowed himself to be held back, but his wrath was not assuaged. He stared blindly towards Praxis and, under his breath, uttered a cursing revenge that he bound himself to fulfil.
After everyone had left Eva stayed. She crept up to the silent girl, still fixed inside the cruel contraption.
Weena could not speak, the constriction now too tight, but she could move her eyes. Eva looked into them; filled with fear, panic-stricken by her treatment, terrorised by the unknown.
'Are you in pain?' asked Eva. 'Is your new lover holding you tightly enough? Does he have you close enough in his loving arms?'
Weena's eyes flashed from side to side. She wanted so much to speak, but it was impossible.
Eva squatted down beside the captive girl. She reached forward and touched her. Weena did not flinch; she could not. Eva felt the tension in the girl's body. She opened her legs and exposed her slit to the imprisoned girl.
'Look, Weena. Can you see the glistening moisture here? Would you like to lick it? Would you like to run your tongue against it? See how it opens at your glance. It is expecting the tip of your tongue to caress it. It wants to feel its heat. It wants to feel its warm fleshiness lapping at it, slurping at it, drinking from it. Would you like to drink from my cunt, little Weena?'
She moved closer, pressing her knees against the bound girl. The leather touched her skin. A thrill ran through her. She imagined how Weena must feel - trapped, helpless, out of control. She ran her fingers around her slit. It opened at her touch. She looked down. Her silky moisture glistened. She parted the sparkling lips. The pink interior scintillated in the flickering lamplight. She prodded her fingertip against her throbbing clitoris. The contact made her gasp. She ran the finger inside her cunt. With her other hand she drove two fingers into her anus and rose in a heaving, long awaited orgasm.
Chapter 4
Captives of the cruel Polydorus
Sappho's wrists screamed with pain. The thongs had tightened in the sun and now bit into her skin. She and Chryseis were both squeezed into the small cage. The narrow iron bars, heated in the midday sun, pressed against them and held them fast. Neither of them could move. Two spears were pushed between the bars and four soldiers bore the cage high on their shoulders. It rocked from side to side as the soldiers wove their way between the jostling crowd that crammed the busy narrow streets of Troy.
Polydorus rode alongside them in his ornate pony trap. Several slaves cleared the way for him and his entourage. Everyone knew he was the king's son, that he was cruel, and that he was to be feared. He held the reins high in his right hand. In his left he brandished a long whip. Its tip curled in a snapping crack whenever he lashed it against his ponies' bare buttocks. He flicked the whip whenever he was dissatisfied with the performance of the two women who pulled him. Sometimes they pulled too fast, sometimes they were too slow, sometimes they were not quick enough to respond to his instructions.
Their colourful plumed headdresses nodded back and forth as they jogged. Both kept their heads up proudly. Both clasped their teeth hard onto the silver bits in their mouths. Their sweat-glistening bodies, taut and well defined, pulled in unison, their paces equal and in concert with each other. Their buttocks, muscular and perfectly shaped, were parted only slightly by the leather strap pulled tightly between them. Their shaved labia closed around the same strap. It rose across their lower stomach and was secured to a belt at their slender waists. Shiny leather chest collars were pulled tight beneath their breasts. Rings in the backs of the collars held traces which led back to attachments on the front of the cart. Two outriggers jutted from the shafts just behind the women. Leather pads were wound around them, acting as breaching when the trap slowed and pushed forward against its harnessed ponies' buttocks. Each shaft ended in a curved hook, the end of which pointed back towards the trap. Each hook was surmounted by a silver ball.
They approached a huge ornate gateway. Its doors slowly opened under the straining hands of fearful slaves. Polydorus snatched the reins back in his left hand. The two women halted. The padded breaching pressed against their rumps. They let their heads rock back and forward. Their headdresses inscribed a flashing curve in the bright midday sunlight. They welcomed the rest, but were already anxious to start again.
Polydorus clipped the whip into a brass ferrule attached to the side of the trap. He jumped down and handed the reins to a young male slave. The two women whinnied, disappointed that they could not continue to serve their master. Polydorus heard their sorrowful moan and walked up to them. He stroked their buttocks and they nodded more emphatically. He stroked them again. He ran his hands up their flat stomachs, over the chest collars and, one by one, circled their erect nipples with his fingers. They both thrust out their breasts, eager for his attention, stimulated by their master's touch, still hoping he would return to the trap and whip them back into action.
He turned and strode in through the gateway. 'Bring in the cage!' he ordered. 'Let us see how these priestesses take to the service of Polydorus.'
Sappho looked out fearfully through the imprisoning bars as the cage was carried on the two poles into Polydorus' palace. The high, embellished entrance gave way to a large gardened area surrounded by colonnaded walkways topped with terracotta pantiles. In the shade of the walkways were many doors, some ajar, some closed. Cypress trees and obelisks were placed around the gardens. At its centre, and raised above the height of everything else, stood a small temple with a statue of Polydorus at the entrance. Leading down from the front of the temple was a formal water garden fed from a spring which emerged near the entrance. Pools descended in steps and waterfalls flowed down from one pool into the next.
The cage was carried to the lowest pool and dropped to the ground. Sappho gasped as the breath was knocked from her.
Female faces stared down at her and Chryseis. Some of them poked fingers into the cage, some giggled. One knelt down and started licking Sappho's breasts, squashed and unmoveable against the cage's bars. Another dribbled saliva onto Sappho's face, pressed as it was against Chryseis' breasts.
Polydorus brushed them all aside. They dropped back. Some fell to their knees and clasped their hands together in prayer. Others clung to each other in fear of their cruel master.
Polydorus poked a finger at Sappho, pressing it between her buttocks. She felt its tip against her anus. She could not move. She gasped as he drove it in to the knuckle. She felt filled by it. She wanted to open her mouth and cry out, to expel the shock of it, but she could not. She felt the warmth of Chryseis' breasts against her face. They rose and fell quickly. Sappho could feel her panting desperation. Polydorus pushed his finger deeper, probing her rectum. She felt her anus contracting against the base of his finger, grasping it, tightening on it in passion. She could not help it. She knew her body was reacting to him, clamping onto him, holding him, showing him that she needed more. She wanted to be free from her captivity in the cage. She wanted to be able to drop down onto it, to squirm on his penetrating finger, to open herself up fully, to allow it to control her. She gasped with frustration and swallowed hard.
She could do nothing to keep it there. He pulled his finger out. She felt the keenness of exposure as her anus was left op
en and dilated, still needing, still wanting. She could not bear the abandonment. She pictured herself on her hands and knees, begging him to fill her again, pleading for his finger, opening her buttocks, spreading her thighs, entreating him in every way. She thought of herself dropping back, still on all fours, lapping the ground with her tongue, being obedient to his wishes. She imagined herself waiting as long as he made her, staying on the edge of fulfilment for as long as he decided. She could only see herself under his control, his slave, his victim, his toy, letting him control everything she was.
'Release them!' he shouted.
The slaves who had carried them in unlocked the cage door. It swung open. For a moment the two stayed in place, locked together, pressed against each other and the cage bars. Sappho was afraid to move. She felt strangely protected in the cage. Even surrounded by the taunting voices and the mocking slaves she felt safe, embracing Chryseis, feeling the warmth of her body, the sanctuary of her closeness, the soft warmth of her breasts.
Her arm was grabbed roughly. They were both dragged from the cage. The soldiers tried to make them stand, but they both dropped to the ground. They pressed against each other, still fearful of letting go, fearful of the world outside their prison.
Polydorus kicked at them. They shrank back. He kicked at them again.
'Get up, my priestesses. Do not be afraid of Polydorus. I will look after you better than your god, Apollo. See what he has let happen to you! Oh, and your wrists are so tightly bound. You must be freed. But it will be impossible to release you without first giving you a wetting.'
Sappho glanced at her wrists. She had almost forgotten how tightly she was bound by the dried thongs. She lifted her arms and talons of pain dug into her pain-racked body. She looked at Chryseis as she struggled to pick herself up off the ground. Her face was covered in mud and dust. Her short dark hair was dirty and unkempt. Tears welled from her reddened eyes. Sappho reached out her hands. Chryseis took them. They entwined their fingers.
'Collar them!' shouted Polydorus. 'Come, my priestesses. You can see what the house of Polydorus has to offer.'
Tight leather collars with rings were buckled around their necks. Leads were clipped into the rings. Slaves holding the leads tugged them sharply. Sappho fell to the side, surprised by the sudden yank. The slave pulled it again and this time she followed. Chryseis did not respond so quickly and Polydorus snatched the leash from the slave's hands.
'You will have to learn not to be so slow in the service of Polydorus, my little priestess. Here, let me show you.'
He yanked the lead viciously. Chryseis fell to the ground choking and gasping for breath. He tugged again. She squirmed on the ground, fighting to get up. He tugged again and still fighting for air she struggled onto her knees. She tried to get to her feet, but still she was not quick enough. He pushed her over, allowing the lead to tighten before pulling heavily again. He kicked her backwards, just to make sure she was unable to fulfil his order. She fell again.
Sappho could not bear to witness the humiliating punishment. She threw herself in front of her friend, trying to protect her, hoping to save her any more punishment.
'Ah!' Polydorus exclaimed. 'What faithful friends you are. This one prepared to suffer for the sake of the other. How sweet. How charming my little priestesses are.' He grabbed Sappho's face, gripping her cheeks with his thumb on one side, his fingers on the other. 'But, my little priestess, I am the master here. You do not act unless I command it. You protect your friend only if I order it.' He pushed her down again. 'I think my little priestesses like being on the ground. And so I will be kind to them. I will keep them on all fours. They can follow me like dogs.'
Buckets were brought and Sappho and Chryseis' wrists were plunged into the water. Slaves held them there, on their knees, afraid, degraded. A table was brought and set out nearby. Polydorus had wine and olives served while he waited. Sappho and Chryseis were kept with their wrists in the buckets of water. Slowly the leather moistened and stretched enough to be cut away.
Sappho gasped as the knife cut the thongs and she felt the relief of release. She rubbed her wrists, trying to relieve the pain that encircled them. But neither she nor Chryseis had time to recover. Polydorus threw down a napkin on the empty table before him. He jumped up and, without a word, they were manhandled forward on the leashes held by the obedient slaves.
Polydorus strutted ahead. Sappho and Chryseis were led behind him on all fours. If they went too slow their leads were pulled sharply. If they went too fast they were tugged back with a jerk. Sappho felt ashamed. How quickly they had fallen. Like angels expelled from heaven they had descended from the priesthood of Apollo. In the temple, surrounded by the worshippers, they had been looked up to by all. Now they were pitiful slaves in the hands of a cruel master, led on all fours, reviled, mocked and dragged along like animals.
Polydorus walked haughtily through the pleasure gardens. Some slave girls were bathing in one of the pools. They stopped frolicking as he walked by. They giggled at Sappho and Chryseis as they crawled past on their leads. Sappho did not look up; she felt too ashamed.
The lowest pool was the largest. A fountain, assembled from a tower of crescent-shaped marble bowls, stood at its centre. Women stood on each tier, their feet at the points of the crescents, urinating into each other's mouths. Sappho watched them, their mouths wide, their tongues out, drinking each other's fluid. Polydorus watched them for a while, then ordered them down. They scrambled to the ground and stood before him, glistening with water and urine, panting with excitement, eager for whatever he had planned for them.
He pointed to the smallest, a girl with pale skin, her head shaved and with no pubic hair. She stepped forward and dropped to her knees. She looked up at him with dark, doe-eyes.
'Master?' she asked, showing him in that one word that her whole life was directed towards serving only his needs.
'You may drink my seed,' he said, opening the front of his robe and exposing his cock. The shaft was hard and veined, the tip swollen and throbbing. 'Yes, you may drink my essence. Here, take it deep. I do not want to see any spilt.'
Without a second thought the girl, still on her knees, turned her back to her master. She dropped her head back, craning her neck as far as possible, resting back on her outstretched arms. She opened her mouth. He stepped forward and placed his cock above her face. She encircled its tip with eager lips. She held herself there for a moment, feeling its swollen tip filling her mouth, absorbing its heat, accommodating its bulk.
Sappho watched the girl's cheeks indenting as she began sucking. She watched the shaft slowly entering her mouth. It did not stop. It did not pause. The stout shank went in, further and further, relentlessly penetrating the submitting girl, who did not alter her position. As Polydorus' cock sank deeper Sappho saw her throat thicken, swollen by the intrusion of the invasive shaft. The girl sucked hard, swallowing it, not gagging, not resisting in any way.
Sappho felt her cunt moistening at the sight. She looked from side to side, wary of the slave who held her leash, frightened by the possible wrath of her new master, Polydorus. But no one was watching her. She moved a hand between her legs and slipped her fingers into the wetness of her vagina. She gasped with pleasure as she felt the intrusion. She felt moisture on her fingers as she watched the girl's lips pressing further along the prodigious cock.
Finally Polydorus' testicles rested against the girl's face. Still she did not move. He and the girl stayed there for a moment, locked together, like statues.
Sappho rose up on her fingers. She pressed her thumb against her clitoris. But it was not enough. She wanted her mouth filled like the girl. She wanted to feel the bulk of Polydorus' pulsating cock filling her throat, plugging her, delving deep into her.
She looked at the girl's cheeks, still sucking on the cock. She saw her throat, swollen and full. The girl gulped a long swallowing gulp. It pulled the cock even deeper. It drew his scrotum tight against the girl's stretched lips. He reared his hea
d back in ecstasy but did not pull away. His face tightened as he released his copious flow of fluid deep inside her. Sappho clawed at her cunt, squeezing her clitoris, the soft flesh that surrounded it. She watched the girl sucking every drop of semen from the throbbing cock. She watched her gulping it hungrily, unable to satisfy her appetite until it was all drawn out and swallowed.
Polydorus let his cock empty into the girl, then finally pulled away. Sappho could not believe the length of the stalk as it emerged, glistening with saliva and sperm. She could not believe it had all been inside the girl.
Polydorus wrapped his robe around his muscular body and strode on. Sappho was pulled alongside the girl, still resting back on her hands, her mouth open. Sappho stopped, resisting a yank on her lead. She rose on her arms and leant across the girl. She looked into her mouth; pink, soft and fleshy. She saw the glint of semen on her tongue. Aware of Sappho's closeness the girl poked her tongue out. Sappho licked with her own tongue inside the girl's mouth. She tasted the semen - salty and sharp. She sucked it back into her mouth. It was still warm. She inhaled Polydorus' fragrance. She swallowed it keenly.
The male slave who had her on the leash turned and saw what she was doing. He smirked, and yanked so hard on the leash she choked.
Polydorus swaggered ahead. He pushed doors open along the walkway, peering inside, sometimes exclaiming, sometimes shouting orders. Sappho and Chryseis were dragged behind him. Sappho looked across to Chryseis. She tried to smile at her friend, to show her that she was keeping up hope, but the tears in Chryseis' eyes only filled her with more fear and desperation.
A painful yank of the lead on her neck told her to pay attention to what Polydorus was showing them.
'Look, my priestesses. See the sorts of pleasure available at Polydorus' house. The aristocrats of Troy are my clients. They know there is nowhere else in the world where their desires can be met. Even my sole surviving brother, Paris, patronises my house. And he has the most beautiful and obliging woman in the world, Helen, as his companion.'
