Trojan Whores

by Syra Bond

  She lifted it to her lips. She drew it into her mouth; soft, salty, slippery, delectable. She tipped the bowl, emptying it, quenching her thirst yet still not having enough. She tipped the bowl right back until she had taken it all.

  She looked up at Polydorus. She opened her legs and exposed her wet slit.

  'Take her,' ordered Polydorus. 'Tie her. She can watch the beast chase. I have had enough of her. I will decide tomorrow what to do with her.'

  A rope was tied to Sappho's ankles and, with her wrists still bound with the leather thongs, and glistening with spent semen, she was dragged back along the covered walkways.

  She saw the pony girls eagerly setting off with the trap behind them. They looked so clean and bright, so eager and beautiful. Sappho felt the bonds around her wrists and the rope tugging at her ankles. She felt dirty, shamed and humiliated. She thought for a moment of her time as a priestess. She pictured her own splendid robe, of Chryseis beside her, of the worshippers of Apollo bending on their knees before her. She saw their faces, waiting for her instructions and, as she realised what she had sunk to, she felt a deep inner sense of self-disgust and worthlessness.

  She was dragged through the gardens and secured with ropes to a post. Girls draped in lion skins and wearing lion masks roamed on all fours amongst the bushes. They stopped and cocked their heads to the side if they thought they heard something. They dropped down if they thought they had been seen. Sappho saw men with the skins of male lions and masks with heavy manes. They stalked the lionesses, prowling around the garden, sniffing the air, growling and roaring and scratching at the earth with their hands. Suddenly one of them charged towards a lioness. He wrapped his arms around her waist and thrust his cock beneath her tail. She cried out, a screaming growl, and he howled as he thrust into her. Another came and he too fucked the lioness from behind. Another came, and another, until she was surrounded. They clawed at her menacingly and she cowered before them. Each one in turn clung to her waist and thrust into her from behind - sometimes into her cunt, sometimes into her anus. Even when they left her she continued to whimper, growling and panting rapidly.

  When the sun had set Sappho was untied from the post and flung back into the dark stall. The door was slammed behind her. She had not seen Chryseis since she'd been taken away. She felt around in the darkness and realised she was not there. Her stomach filled with fear. She felt desperately alone. She wondered what could have happened. She feared she might never see her friend again, and that she was doomed to a life of loneliness, captivity and suffering.

  She dropped down in one corner and stared blankly into the darkness. The image of Chryseis' beating flashed back into her mind, the sound of her cries in her ears. Her heart raced. She thought of the girls in the lion skins, and of the men chasing them as beasts. She saw their tails rising in the hot sun, and she heard their cries of pain and pleasure as the men-lions mounted their prey from behind. She gasped for breath, and with her hands busy between her thighs, she strained back in an unstoppable paroxysm of bliss.

  Chapter 6

  Calliope's humiliation - Eva's redemption

  Female slaves, wearing only light pleated tunics, opened the entrance to the tent as Praxis and Calliope arrived. Calliope looked haughtily at a nervous Weena, who held one of the flaps. As Calliope came closer Weena shrank back, aware of the temper her mistress had, and barely recovered from her last punishment at her hands. Calliope hesitated at the door, checking the anxious girl with her eyes, hoping to find something wrong that could warrant punishment.

  'Show me your teeth,' she ordered. 'Quickly. Quickly!'

  Weena dropped the tent flap and stepped forward uneasily. She opened her mouth and exposed her fine white teeth.

  'Wider.' Calliope peered into the girl's mouth. 'Push out your tongue. I cannot see for it.'

  Weena obeyed and Calliope poked her fingers into her mouth. The girl gagged, but Calliope just looked disapprovingly at her.

  'Why are you choking?' she demanded. 'Why do you gag? Can you not take a man in here? Have you not been trained to swallow the shaft of a man? Speak!'

  Weena's face reddened. 'Mistress, I...'

  'My lord, Praxis,' Calliope said disdainfully, 'this girl needs checking. I fear she may be unable to carry out her duties. I think the training Master Wang has given her has been inadequate. I shall have to correct it.'

  Praxis turned to her. Wang tugged urgently at his arm. Calliope looked annoyed at the man's intrusion.

  'Lord,' said Wang as he pulled more insistently. 'They have brought the "brazen bull". It has been set up outside the main tent. None will dare stand against you now, lord. All will fear the punishment of the "brazen bull". All will fear the wrath of the great Praxis.'

  Praxis held out his arms. Both his large biceps were banded with tight leather straps. He moved forward blindly. 'Take me to it. I need to feel its power. I need to run my fingers over its muscular form.'

  Wang took his arm and led him towards the entrance of the tent.

  Calliope rushed forward, seething with jealousy. 'But the girl, my lord. Are you not concerned about the girl? Her training?'

  'Later,' said Praxis dismissively. 'If you cannot deal with it. Master Wang will do so later.'

  Calliope scowled angrily, but followed nevertheless. She was not going to let Wang get the better of her. She grabbed hold of Weena. 'Be quiet, girl. Follow me.'

  Master Wang led Praxis outside. He stood him in front of a huge statue of a bull. Its prodigious shoulders and muscular hindquarters beautifully cast from shining bronze, shimmered in the scorching midday heat. Its curved horns dazzled in the sunlight. The effigy had been fixed to the ground with iron nails. A fire had been set beneath its belly. A door in its side, just big enough for a man to be squeezed through, testified to its use as a torture device.

  Master Wang held Praxis' hands against the bronze flank of the tremendous beast.

  'Feel its strength, my lord. Feel the line and curve of its mighty muscles. Master Epeius, the statue maker and pugilist, has built it exactly as he promised. It is truly an amazing invention. A punishment device to rival any other in the world. Everyone who sees it is in awe of its power. Epeius has installed the system of tubes and stops exactly as he pledged. They run from inside the body into outlets at its mouth and nostrils. When the victim begins to scream - and scream he surely will when the fire is lit beneath him - the screams will issue from the beast in tremendous bellows. Then, Epeius says, we will call the beast the "infuriated ox". When it announces its fury, he says, we will think it is enraged and angered because the gods themselves have torn out its innards.'

  Calliope shrugged and turned back to Weena, who was shivering at the sight of the terrifying 'brazen bull'.

  'Not me, mistress. Please, not me. I could not stand being shut in there. I could not stand the heat. The sound of its fury. Please, mistress. Not me.'

  She tugged harder, squirming to get away. Calliope grabbed her ear and pulled her forward. 'Follow me, you ridiculous girl,' she said. Weena scuttled behind. 'I will see if Master Wang has done his job with you,' Calliope said, with emphasis, so there was no mistaking her intention to embarrass Praxis' Chinese henchman.

  Achilles arrived. His princely bearing made Calliope drop back, regretting her announcement, wanting to return to the tent, to impress him.

  'Are you having trouble with one of your pretty maidens?' he asked.

  'No, sire... yes, sire. She is causing trouble, sire. But it is not of my making. It is caused by...'

  'But you will correct the problem, I am sure of that.'

  'Yes, yes, my lord, I will.'

  'Good. I could be very pleased by a well-trained maiden such as you have here. Pleased by the maiden and...' he lifted Calliope's chin, '...pleased by the trainer.'

  He marched into the tent. Calliope went out. She stared back at Wang, annoyed and brimming with anger. She tossed her head back and smiled at the promise in Achilles' words. She dug her fingers into Weena's
ear.

  'Master Praxis, what have you here for me today?'

  Praxis swung round at the sound of Achilles' booming voice.

  'Anything you please, my lord, anything you desire.'

  'I desire some distraction. I need some pleasure that will make me forget the worries of this war. Something that will put the misery of being stuck here year after year on the Trojan beach to the back of my mind.'

  'Then you are right to visit the tent of Praxis, my lord.' Praxis clapped his hands together.

  Eva came in. She was naked except for a leather belt around her waist. She was fragrant and bathed. Her body was oiled. Her long red hair had been combed up into a fiery mane. A line of male slaves followed her. In pairs they carried poles on their shoulders. On each pole was slung a net, and tightly held inside each net was a captive girl.

  'Who is that at the head of the line?' asked Achilles.

  'She is the German noble, Eva. I have offered her some of my favour. She is splendid, do you not think? Wang tells me she is the most beautiful woman he has ever seen. He says her head is ablaze with fire. Is he right, my lord?'

  Achilles nodded, and Praxis listened for his reply.

  The captives were paraded once around the tent. Achilles was invited to choose one. He pointed at the one closest to him. Two slaves ran forward brandishing knives. They slit the net and the girl fell out.

  She struggled to get up. Her mouth was filled by a leather ball. It was drawn tightly into her mouth by thongs tied behind her head. Her wrists were bound with leather straps. A leather collar encircled her neck. A leash led from a ring bound into the collar. A slave grabbed it and tugged.

  'Now, my lord, you may choose her punishment.'

  'Ah, but what is her crime?'

  'She has stolen drink from the kitchen, my lord.'

  'Then bring a bowl, and a whip,' ordered Achilles.

  The gag was removed and the girl was forced onto all fours in front of the bowl. Two slaves were made to urinate in it. They filled it to overflowing. The girl's head was pushed down to the bowl. The slave holding the leash placed his foot on the back of her neck to keep her there. Achilles took the whip; a stout leather flail with six tails.

  'Make her drink,' he ordered.

  The slave forced the girl's face into the bowl. She spluttered as she tried to lap hopelessly at the urine.

  'Aha!' mocked Achilles. 'Look, Praxis, one of your slaves is stealing drink. I think she needs punishing.'

  'You are right, my lord. And there is no better hand to take on the task than my lord.'

  Achilles brought the flail down sharply onto the girl's buttocks. She reared back. Her face lifted from the bowl and she yelped with shock. The slave pressed his foot harder against the back of her neck and forced her face down again. She choked and coughed. Urine overflowed from the bowl. Achilles whipped the leather flail down again. It struck her buttocks and laced them with red stripes. Again she pulled up and again she was forced back down.

  Eva watched the punishment. She ran her fingers around her leather belt, feeling its smoothness, its tightness against her skin. Every time the flail slashed across the girl's buttocks Eva felt a shock of excitement in her tummy. Every time Achilles lifted the flail she held her breath as she anticipated the moment of contact - the slap of leather against skin. Every time she saw the girl's face dipped into the bowl she moved her fingers further down from her belt towards her moistening sex.

  The girl spluttered as the beating continued. Her face was red and, when she lifted herself up urine and spit ran freely from her mouth. Her buttocks were an angry smudge of red; the lines inflicted by the flail melded into one. Eva closed her eyes and let the girl's sobs fill her head, letting her fingers probe into her sex. It opened easily and, within its moist folds, she found the tip of her throbbing clitoris.

  But Achilles was dissatisfied. Suddenly he ordered the girl thrown into the latrines. 'She can feast there all she wishes,' he said as, tired of the punishment, he tossed the flail to the floor. He threw himself into a grand chair.

  Eva gasped, massaging her clitoris, yearning for the sound of pain, her eyes searching for the vision of servitude and punishment. She wanted to rush forward and plead with Achilles to continue. She wanted to throw herself at his feet, and beg him to take up the whip and thrash her instead. Anything that would fill her with the torment of punishment. Anything that would allow her own pleasure to flow.

  Suddenly Calliope strutted back into the tent. She held Weena by the ear and pulled her along on her knees.

  'Praxis, what is this?' asked Achilles, pleased with the diversion. 'Has your beautiful assistant been planning something for us? And I thought when she rushed out of the door with her little slave she was hiding from me.'

  'My lord, she has trouble with that slave.'

  'You surprise me, Praxis. That a young slave like that should be trouble to your beautiful assistant.'

  'Some of these slaves are wilful, my lord, and difficult to control.'

  'Then, I think, if the slave is stronger than the master, the master, or as in this case, the mistress, should be the slave.'

  Calliope scowled at Praxis. Achilles saw her anger and smiled.

  Master Wang ran forward, preening at Calliope's discomfort.

  'There, sire, you have it. A trial of strength. That's what it is. Perhaps Calliope can show you how she has taught the girl the lesson she accused her own master of not providing?'

  Calliope scowled again. She dragged Weena forward, released her ear with a final yank and kicked her down onto the floor. Weena shrank back, nursing her ear, terrified.

  'She has been no trouble to me, my lord Achilles,' Calliope said, barely able to disguise her anger. 'I quickly cured her. She is a puny maiden, easily subdued. I do not know why Master Wang had difficulty with her. It was such a simple matter. Perhaps my lord would allow me to demonstrate. I'm sure my training will not be found wanting.'

  'As you will. Show your chieftain how you have subdued this terrible foe.'

  Achilles laughed heartily as Calliope pursed her lips. 'Here, girl! On your knees!'

  Weena scuttled forward and knelt where Calliope indicated.

  'Ah, yes, you have trained her to be a dog,' mocked Achilles. 'She kneels at your command. I am impressed. But I have lots of dogs. And they are cheaper to keep than slaves.'

  'Yes she kneels, lord, but now I will show you what I have taught her. You will soon see she is worth more than any dog. Look up, girl! Attend to your mistress's orders.'

  'I hope your promises can be fulfilled, my lady. I have no more patience for disappointment.'

  'They can, sire. They can.'

  A strongly built male slave was brought in and stripped. He stood naked before Calliope. She ordered him to stretch his arms out wide. Weena was lifted up and placed with her back against the slave's. Her arms were stretched wide and her wrists bound with leather straps to his muscular forearms. Her ankles were tied to his calves with thin thongs.

  She hung on her bonds, panting with trepidation, glowing with the sweat of fear. Her hard nipples gleamed.

  The male slave was told to bend forward. As he did Weena was bent backwards against him. Her body arched tautly against the naked man. Her breasts flattened against her ribs. Her hips were forced out prominently, her stomach flat and hollowed. Her delectable pink slit, shaved and naked, was stretched and vulnerable. She lay against the back of the athletic man, unable to move, stretched as though on a crucifix.

  'She is ready for you, sire. She will take everything you have. Yes, even the mighty Achilles. I have ensured she will swallow it to the hilt.'

  Achilles smiled and walked close. Weena lay bent back over the slave's back, her face upside down at the height of Achilles' groin. He opened his tunic and lifted his meaty cock. It swung heavily against her open mouth. Her eyes widened as she saw its size. She felt its heat. Her smooth cheeks flushed.

  Achilles pressed the tip against her lips. She opened them as m
uch as possible. It entered. Her cheeks filled as the globe ran across her tongue. Her eyes widened more. The slave brought his arms forward so she was stretched even tighter. She tried to express the pain of the tension in her body with a scream, but her mouth was plugged completely.

  Eva, her fingers teasing the tip of her clitoris, stared at Weena. She watched Achilles' cock thickening and filling her mouth. The veined surface slid between her stretched lips. Weena's eyes widened as it entered. Eva watched it going in further. She strummed her clitoris, squeezing it, sending joy into her body. She rose up as she felt the pent-up pressure beginning to release.

  Weena's body tightened as the cock continued to slide into her mouth. Its tip reached the back of her throat. Her face reddened more. Still it continued to enter. Weena gagged and tightened against the shaft but she did not stop it. She swallowed it down.

  Eva watched Weena's throat thicken as the tip of the cock entered it. Weena tightened more against the slave's back and pulled against the bonds which held her wrists and ankles. Eva opened her legs then tightened them again. Her head filled with the picture before her. In her mind she could see nothing else.

  Weena strained and squirmed. Her eyes bulged, her chest rose, and Achilles pulled out. Eva gasped and bit her lip, seized with the unreleased tension of her ecstasy. She shivered with frustration.

  Achilles stood back and stared at Calliope. 'I think that you have lost control of your little empire, my dear Praxis. Perhaps it is time to start looking elsewhere for my entertainment.'

  Praxis looked around blindly, filled with anger and worry. He could not afford to lose Achilles' patronage. Without it, and with Ajax as a sworn enemy, he knew he could not survive. He sensed Achilles' anger brewing, and like countless others, he had learned to fear it. He did not know what to do. Beads of sweat ran on his forehead. He dropped his arms to his sides, somehow admitting there was nowhere to turn.