by Syra Bond
Sappho opened her eyes. She looked down at her naked, mud-stained body. Her legs were apart, a beggar dressed in filthy rags lay with his rough, bearded face between them. His tongue was licking at her. She stared up at the ornate ceiling of the temple of Apollo. She did not know how she had got here. She squirmed onto the beggar's tongue. His slow licks were hypnotic. She drifted on the rhythm. It was as if she was rocking on the swell of a warm ocean. She thought of what she had seen and heard; the demon, the young girl, the portent of impending doom, the terrible fire, her humiliation. She looked again to the ceiling. The temple was still there. It had not been destroyed. A surge of relief ran through her. She reached down and pulled the beggar's face closer. The images of destruction, of her degradation by the satyr, faded as she gripped his hair tightly between her fingers. She tugged at it viciously, pulling him as close as she could, tightening herself onto his delving tongue. She opened her mouth, but did not cry out. She lay silent, gripped in an ever-tightening seizure as she rose on the beggar's tongue in a massive, jerking and ecstatic orgasm.
Chapter 10
The wooden horse
Master Wang held Praxis' arm and led him out between the beached ships into a clearing amongst the dunes. 'Lord Praxis, this is the mighty wooden horse which is being built by Epeius the Persian. It is so fine I can hardly describe it to you.'
'Try, Wang. I must know of this wonder.'
'It is huge, sire. As high as twenty men. It glistens like the sun itself. Shiny scales of metal hang as armour about its massive frame. Its wooden structure is brightly painted: red, blue, white, green. Its neck is decorated with garlands of fresh flowers. Naked girls stand high on ladders hanging them like pendants about its mane. They are so excited to be close to it, they press their groins against it and smear its body with their moisture. Colourful flags dangle on its bridle and reins. In its belly, a heavy trap door hangs open. Inside it is dark and empty.
'It is like the brazen bull, Wang. It has a hollow belly.'
'Yes, my lord. That is where the soldiers will lie in wait. And women too, I hear. When the great horse is inside the mighty gates of Troy, then they will spring their trap. The women will slip down the ropes which will fall like entrails from the beast's belly. They will slide the bolts back on the gates. Once the gates are open our troops will flood back across the plain and into the city. Master, victory will be in the hands of the Greeks at last. The city of Troy will be there for the taking.'
'How do you know all this, Wang?'
'I listened to the great lord Achilles as he hatched the plan with Menelaus and Ajax.'
Praxis scowled at the mention of his enemy's name. 'What part has Ajax in this?'
'He sails to Teredos with Agamemnon. It is Achilles who leads the raid from the horse. There will be many spoils from this enterprise, my lord. There will be slaves aplenty for anyone in a position to take them.'
Praxis understood what he meant. He was not going to miss this opportunity to increase his wealth and influence.
Eva stepped forward and stood alongside Praxis. Calliope crouched on all fours beside her, the collar around her neck. The lead attached to it pulled tautly in Eva's hand. Eva looked down disapprovingly at her. She snatched the lead quickly. Calliope straightened her arms, bent her back and raised her buttocks. The oval of her sex was squeezed between them. The slightest hint of moisture glinted on her luscious slit. As she moved her flesh opened. The faceted golden ring in her clitoris flashed as it caught the sun's bright rays.
'That's better, my little pet,' said Eva haughtily. She stepped towards the horse and pulled Calliope behind her.
A girl was holding a pot of paint for an artist working on the huge construction. She wore a cotton smock, torn and splashed with paint. One tear in the fabric exposed her left breast; small and pert with a pink nipple. A smudge of red paint was smeared across it. Another rip, just inside her left hip, revealed the shallow line of her stomach as it dipped down towards her pubic mound. Her head was shaved. The pot tipped in her hands as, tired and exhausted in the hot sun, her eyes closed and she lost concentration on her task. The red paint dribbled over the lip and ran onto her exposed thighs.
'What is this girl doing?' asked Eva arrogantly.
Epeius moved forward. Used to the scrutiny of his Greek masters, the sculptor and former pugilist was always ready to cater to their demands. In keeping with his own training as a prize fighter he was strict and cruel and treated his slaves with sudden and vicious brutality. If they slacked he punished them with no mercy. If they were defiant he had them removed and they were never seen again. If they worked hard and showed the proper respect they were fed.
'My lord Praxis, it is an honour to have you visit.'
'What is that girl doing?' asked Eva again. 'She looks like a woman of leisure. Surely she sleeps. And she spills the paint she is supposed to be holding. Is that how slaves act who are in the service of the great Persian, Epeius?'
Epeius looked at the girl and scowled. 'Bring her to me!' he snapped.
A rope was wound around the girl's waist and she was dragged over to him. She pulled as hard as she could against the restraint, forcing the muscular guard who held her to brace against her effort.
'I shall be interested in how you punish her,' said Eva. 'Do you have some shade for me and my pet?'
A male Nubian slave was ordered to bring a large parasol of ostrich feathers. His loins were barely covered by a gold-coloured scarf, the outline of his genitals pressing against the soft material.
Eva beckoned him, and stood motionless as he brought her beneath the parasol's welcome shade. She tossed her head back disdainfully.
Master Wang led Praxis forward. He sneered at Eva. She ignored him. She considered herself immune from any threat.
Suddenly the girl took hold of the rope and snatched it out of the guard's hands. She placed her feet wide apart, bent her back and crouched ready to evade recapture.
'I really cannot believe how some of these slaves are out of control,' said Eva. She threw back her red hair. 'I could not tolerate such behaviour. See how my pet responds to my every wish.'
She slackened the tension on the leash and tapped her foot on the ground a little ahead of Calliope, who bent her elbows and dropped her face against Eva's sandaled foot. She licked it carefully, allowing her tongue to move slowly along the leather straps. She poked the tip between each of Eva's toes. The leather of the sandal glistened with her saliva.
Eva pulled the leash tight again. Calliope sat back on all fours. Her lips glistened.
Epeius lunged forward and grabbed the rope that hung from the girl's waist. She was shocked by the suddenness of his action. She clung to the rope as he pulled her over. She fell in a heap on the ground. Dust billowed up around her. She thrashed her feet in a frantic effort to pull against him and escape.
'She is indeed furious,' mocked Eva. 'But surely tameable?'
Epeius pulled the girl along the ground. She kicked her feet and twisted her body as she held firmly onto the rope with both hands. He dragged her to some heavy wooden stocks. A large hole in the centre was flanked by two smaller holes on either side. The top bar of the stocks was lifted and, with two male slaves helping, the girl was forced to kneel down before it. They held her neck over the large hole and forced her wrists into the holes on either side. She was still kicking and struggling as they dropped the bar and trapped her between its confining jaws.
Epeius bent down and squeezed her cheeks between thumb and fingers. 'You will not shame me again, girl. You will receive a lesson that will be impossible to forget.'
The girl twisted and kicked. She was frantic. She spat at him. It dribbled over his hand. He shook it off. She spat again. It splashed on his leg. He wiped it away, struggling to keep his temper under control for fear of more embarrassment in front of his visitors.
He grasped her cheeks again, pressing them in. She tried to spit again, but it just dribbled out over her lip onto her chin.
&nb
sp; 'Impossible to forget!'
The girl kicked in a frenzy. Some slaves fetched a wooden bar and lashed it between her ankles in an effort to stop her squirming. Still she twisted and turned. She lifted both feet and kicked back against the ground, more dust billowing up in clouds.
Eva laughed and bent to stroke Calliope on the back of the head. Praxis held his hands out, stretching his fingers as if they would somehow give him sight. Epeius kicked dust at the girl's face. She spat at him again and kicked all the more wildly.
'What is happening?' asked Praxis. 'It sounds as though a wild animal is loose.'
'A slave out of control, my lord,' said Wang. 'Completely out of control.'
Praxis edged forward and reached down to the spitting girl. He held his hand in front of her face. She bared her teeth. He moved his hand closer. She bit him viciously. He did not move. His face froze. He set his jaw. With his other hand he opened her mouth and drew out his fingers.
'Bring my whip, Wang. I will show you how to subdue a slave. Even a wild one like this. She has bitten my flesh. She will find out that was a mistake.'
He had two slaves kneel in front of the stocks. He gave them a thick piece of timber. He told them to hold it between them, in front of the girl's mouth but not touching her. Two more male slaves were made to kneel and hold her ankles, for even though they were pinned onto the wooden beam she still struggled and thrashed her legs.
'When she has been subdued she will take the wooden bar between her teeth. I promise you she will be gripping it soon. It will remind her of my hand. It will ensure she remembers this lesson. It will prove her obedience to Praxis.'
The girl spat at the bar. Her spit dribbled from it in strands. She gnashed her teeth and bared them like an animal.
Eva leant her knee against Calliope's shoulder. The warmth of Calliope's skin excited her. She watched the girl struggling against the stocks, the hands that held her down, the bar between her feet. She saw her anger and panic. She saw her pride and unwillingness to be subdued. She saw her fear, and she saw her willingness to tolerate suffering.
Eva saw herself in the girl. Already her plight had stirred excitement within her. As the girl faced her punishment Eva's anticipation was building. She pressed harder against Calliope, who leant back, returning the pressure, signalling her own excitement.
Praxis took the whip in his hand. Wang positioned him. 'Master, she is yours,' he said.
Praxis flicked the whip and let its end drift lazily onto the ground behind him. Its length curled slowly then settled easily. It lay still, his wrist cocked, his arm flexed and ready.
Eva breathed in deeply. She sensed the tension in the whip. She could see its power. She knew how much anger it had to release. She could already feel its sting.
She looked at the wooden bar in front of the girl's mouth. She saw the resistance in the girl's face; her refusal, her defiance. She imagined herself in the girl's place. She felt herself locked in the stocks, held down, tantalised by the bar of wood held so close to her mouth.
Eva heard nothing as the whip curled for the first time. It lifted off the ground in a long slow swirl. It tightened into a curl, the curving loop rubbing against itself as it gathered all its unleashed fury in one tight coil. As it crossed Praxis' shoulder it released its ferocity. The tip reached out eagerly for its target. It snapped as it coiled again at its fullest extremity, cutting into its target, precisely, perfectly, punishingly.
The girl howled. It was the cry of an animal in agony. The pain reached her whole body instantly. The small point of contact against her buttocks was the key to everything she was. What emanated from it suffused her in an instant. The level of pain did not diminish as it spread. The snap of torment delivered to the point of contact by the whip was the same when it reached her fingertips, her toes, her tongue, her mind.
Eva gasped with the shock of it. She could read the instant journey of sustained pain on the girl's terrified face. She felt her sex moistening. She needed contact against it. She needed something pressing against her swollen flesh. She needed pressure against her throbbing clitoris. She needed something to cool her heat. She lifted her leg and straddled Calliope. She felt the promise of satisfaction. She was anxious, but she did not rush. She dropped herself slowly, seeing the coming contact in her mind but keeping it in abeyance, stalling until the perfect moment.
Another slashing crack and the whip hit its target again. The girl shrieked. Spit sprayed from her mouth. Her body tightened as the wave of pain spread through her.
Eva dropped lower. She felt the warmth of Calliope's body beneath her. She tightened the lead, pulling on the collar, straining herself against its tension. She gripped the leather loop in her hand. She let it cut into her skin. She imagined it was the tip of the whip, the slashing scourge, the punishing messenger of delectable pain that Praxis was meting out to the agonised girl.
The whip cracked again and again. Each time it found its target precisely. The girl's buttocks were quickly covered in red blotches and streaks. The cracking tip left a red smudge, the lace-thin filament behind it, an angry stripe. Praxis knew where it landed by the sound of the crack and the feel it delivered through the leather handle. Sometimes he lowered it so that it slashed against the backs of the girl's thighs. Sometimes he let it drift higher onto the base of her back. Sometimes he brought it down time and again in the same place. When he did so the pain intensified until the girl could feel nothing more of her body than that one particular part. Her whole being was drained into the source of her suffering. The pain had overwhelmed her.
Eva licked her lips. She let her free hand drift down her stomach. Her fingers reached and found her sex lips. She parted them and touched her clitoris. It throbbed at her touch. She massaged it. She felt its swelling and the excitement it was delivering.
She closed her eyes for a moment and listened only to the slashing cracks of the vicious whip. Her head was filled with its anger. When she opened her eyes and looked at the girl she saw she still had her mouth tight shut. She was still resisting the sanctuary of the bar held before her. Her refusal to accept its comfort only fanned the flames that licked within Eva's smouldering body.
Praxis threw the whip down. It had done its job.
The girl bit her lip. She absorbed the pain. Eva could not believe she had resisted taking the bar between her teeth. She could not imagine how she had held out against the pain. She could not understand how she had stopped herself from biting the bar, how she had resisted dissipating the agony by clenching her teeth around its unforgiving thickness.
Praxis stood behind the girl. She panted and gasped through flaring nostrils. She squeezed her eyelids together and clenched her teeth again. She knew her suffering was not over.
A slave rushed forward with a long rod, at its end a large black cock, perfectly shaped, its shaft ribbed, its tip bulbous.
Praxis took the rod on his hands. Wang held the cock and placed it against the oval of flesh between the girl's upturned buttocks. The red streaks and blotched marks on her skin contorted as she tightened herself against it. Praxis pressed the bulbous leather tip against the slit at the centre of her cunt. She opened at its touch. He felt the moist softness as he pressed. He held it there for a moment, then slid it in. He did not hold back or wait; he pushed it into her in one long thrust.
Eva increased the tension on Calliope's lead. She tightened her knees around Calliope's waist and lowered her buttocks until at last they touched. Calliope's back pressed upwards. Eva felt its warmth against her squirming sex lips. Her moisture spread against Calliope's skin.
Wang produced another rod. It also had a large leather cock attached. Praxis knew he was there. He leant his weight against the rod inserted into the girl. He nodded. Wang smiled with relish. He placed the bulbous tip of the second phallus against the girl's exposed anus. She tightened her buttocks as much as she could as she felt the threatening contact.
Wang pressed against her anus. She kicked the ground, a last dem
onstration of resistance, a final display of hopeless opposition.
The second artificial penis was pushed deep into the girl's rear passage. A squeal seeped from her as her teeth unclenched, as she admitted defeat. She gripped the bar between them and held it while the intruder was drawn back, before being thrust deep again.
Eva tightened her knees against Calliope. The tension increased between her thighs. She held herself there, watching the girl biting deeper into the bar of wood. She watched the girl relinquishing her defiance, giving in to her master's control, as finally Eva's own orgasm was ignited and a raging inferno burned through her every nerve.
Epeius stood back proudly. The wooden horse was finally ready.
Naked women had leather belts tightened around their slender waists. Metal rings at the back were clipped into more rings on long ropes that extended from a trailer of wheels beneath the mighty horse's feet. The women stood in lines waiting for the command to move. Their naked bodies shone in the heat of the midday sun. The air shimmered around them and dust rose in small whirlwinds around their feet.
Agamemnon organised the withdrawal of the army. The men clambered into their ships and rowed back out to sea. Within the hour they rounded the island of Teredos and anchored in its lee. From the beach at Troy they could not be seen. Anyone watching from the shore would conclude they had returned to Greece.
Sinon, chosen for his rhetorical gift, stood at the head of the long lines of women. He waved them forward. Slowly, with slave masters wielding their whips on the backs of the naked women, the mighty wooden horse began to move. The whips rained down in terrifying cracks, burning into the captives' backs as they were forced to muster all their strength and pull the horse forward. The huge wheels rumbled and groaned. Gasping for breath and sweating with the effort, the lines of naked women hauled the great horse out over the dunes and onto the plain of Troy, where so many brave warriors had died.
